Jun 10, 2020
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Ease The Dawn Pt.2 Ch.17
A/N - Will get the final chapter up this week. Previous Chapter 16 . Before starting this story, I read that the real Aethelswith was so little, that when she passed away in Italy, they used a child’s coffin as she was well under 5 feet tall. She was described as being built like a sparrow. I always picture them with this massive height/size difference as the stories say the real Ivar was over 7 feet.
Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith Words - 1,500
Warnings - Angst, human sacrifice, death, sorrow, mentions of rape, true love.
Standing in the hall, Aethelswith clung to Ivar's arm; Hvitserk, on her far side, stood with his hand subtly outstretched as if she might, at any moment, lose her balance and tip over. Back straight against the wall, Brana waited near the entrance to the corridor, her expression was rigid, and her cold eyes stayed fixed on the hall doors.
Angling down, Ivar pressed a kiss to the top of Aethelswith's loosely braided hair, murmuring quiet praise and soft encouragement. Letting go of his arm, she adjusted the ties of her green dressing gown around her spare waist. The way the fabric draped from her weak posture gave her the appearance of a starved child; evidence that restored health was still a ways away.
At the sound of approaching voices, she squared her shoulders, lifting her chin, as Loni and Ruud shoved Freydis through the doors. Still wearing her beige dress, her hands were shackled in front and at the sight of Ivar, her eyes bulged with fear. Pushing her onward, they stopped a few meters back and she lowered her face in a futile attempt to avoid his scrutiny. Instinctively, Aethelswith reached back to Ivar and squeezed his arm, feeling his body tense and sensing his desire to drive his blade into the top of her skull.
Opening his mouth to speak, Aethelswith tightened her grip and glanced up to him, wordlessly conveying her insistence.
"You do not need to see any of this," he spoke quietly.
"But I do."
Looking back to a cowering Freydis, Aethelswith squinted, her sensitive eyes still adjusting to the return of her sight. Even with the glare of the sun streaming through the open doors, she could see the filth on Freydis' dress and hands and caked under her nails. Her skin looked grimy and her previously shiny hair was dull. Aethelswith wanted to laugh, cackle like a witch, noticing Freydis' dry, chapped lips, perhaps even offer her a damp cloth to suck water or poisoned milk from. She should take mercy, attempt to understand and possibly forgive but none of that felt brutal enough for a girl who had been working her nocuous plan from the start.
And yet, nothing about Freydis rotting in a dingy cell for weeks while Aethelswith recovered enough to attend her hearing, pleased her. She felt no satisfaction or sense of peace, only rage so rich, at times, it took her breath. The image of Ivar sitting on his throne moments from giving his life plagued her sleep. Even awake, it seemed burned into her mind, visible still when she closed her eyes.
And Freydis had done that; spoon-fed sadness and devastation to all those Aethelswith loved and as a result, forced Ivar to place a blade to his throat. Blinking away the image, she steadied her thoughts, hoping her voice sounded stronger than she felt.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Letting go of Ivar's arm, she straightened, clasping her hands in front, her face entirely void of emotion.
"Please, my lady," Freydis whined, "I could not explain this to anyone but you. I did not want to do this; any of this. I was forced. I had no choice."
Air shot out of Ivar's nostrils and his body vibrated, holding back by only a thread. Frowning, Aethelswith stepped closer, uncertain of her meaning.
"He forced me!" Freydis squawked. "He made me do it."
"Who?" Aethelswith narrowed her eyes.
"Burgred!" Freydis cried.
"That's it!" Ivar roared, reaching for the ax on his belt.
Eyes flashing, Aethelswith's hand flew out to stop him, latching onto his wrist and pulling him closer to calm him. Grunting with both frustration and resignation, he stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Nodding, she squeezed his hand giving assurance that she was not phased.
"My lady," Freydis pleaded, lifting her shackled hands as if in prayer. "He threatened the life of my child sister. Keeps her like a whore...his carnal slave. Does all sorts of depraved things to her. Promised to release her if I did this, otherwise, he would kill her. She is only fifteen-years-old!" Freydis cried again. "You would do the same for your own flesh and blood, I know you would. You would poison anyone if it meant saving the life of someone you love. She is only a child!"
Horrified, Aethelswith covered her mouth, "I have known the brutality of that man," she nodded, lowering her hand, "I do understand the lengths a person would go to to escape it, I do," she nodded again.
Closing her eyes, Freydis shoulders settled with relief.
"Freydis, look at me?" Aethelswith called in a gentle tone. "Do I look stupid to you, though?" she lifted her brows. "Hmm?"
Frowning, Freydis shook her head, panic creeping back into her eyes.
"There is no question in my mind that you conspired with Burgred, and that you are, in fact, Saxon but I do not believe he has your sister." Lowering her chin, Aethelswith's expression hardened. "You are a power-hungry liar."
Disgusted, Ivar let out a threatening growl, the sound rumbling through Aethelswith's back. Stepping forward, Freydis lifted her hands like a beggar making Loni yank her back with a tug of the chain fastened to her cuffs.
"It was your husband's doing!" Freydis shouted, lifting her face in defiance.
"He is not my husband!" Aethelswith screamed. "You are standing in front of my husband. In fact," she pointed at the floor. "Kneel! Get onto your knees before the king."
Grabbing her shoulders, Loni shoved her down, Freydis squealing as she landed hard on the floor.
"Please," Freydis whimpered, looking back up.
"Further, Burgred does not care for little girls," Aethelswith sneered. "Does not care for girls at all," her eyes bore into Freydis, "As I learned on my wedding night when he took me like a man would take another man."
Freydis' eyes flashed at the revelation and every person in the room shifted on their feet. Hugging Aethelswith tighter to his front, Ivar leaned in pressing another kiss behind her ear, whispering how strong she was.
"Your stories fool no one." Aethelswith continued, her voice growing steadier. "Burgred wanted me dead and you wanted to be a queen, you stupid, stupid girl," she shook her head. "Did you truly believe you could take Ivar from me?" Raising her hand, she touched the faint scar across the top of her temple. "This will remind me, each day, how close I came to losing everything."
Turning her head, she pressed her face back against Ivar's chest.
"You are certain?" he asked in a low voice, his lips still touching her hair. At her nodded reply, he reached to his belt and withdrew the gold and ruby dagger from his scabbard, offering it for her to take.
"Hold her," Aethelswith ordered the men, taking the knife and stepping forward out from the security of Ivar's arms.
Panic struck and Freydis jolted forward, thrashing against Loni and Ruud's grip. Fighting, she spat and shrieked like a frenzied animal being pulled under water. Cinching up the chain, Ruud and Loni grabbed her under her arms, bracing her in place.
"Last words?" Aethelswith's asked staring down into her wild eyes.
"I ask our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ to receive me," Freydis spat, out of breath from her struggle.
Reaching down, Ruud grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her head back so she could not look away.
Pressing the edge of the blade to the skin of her taut throat, Aethelswith leaned closer.
"You have no god," she whispered, "and now you will bleed like the sheep that you are."
In one swift sweep, Aethelswith cut the width of her pale throat; Freydis' eyes flashing wide as dark blood spewed out, streaming down her front, the faintest sound of air rushing from the slit in her skin. Silently, Freydis' body sagged as her blood drained and her round blue eyes lost focus.
Grabbing Aethelswith from behind, Ivar spun her away, wrapping his arms around her, and hugged her to his chest. Collapsing against him, she let out a choked sob with the dagger still dangling in her hand.
Thick blood began to pool on the floor and Ivar led her away back to the base of the thrones. Without a word, Aethelswith stopped and turned to face him, peering up into his worried eyes. Clutching her arms, he leaned in, studying her shocked face, the colour now entirely drained from her cheeks. His eyes flitted down to the dagger she held in the palm of her bloodied hands.
"I used this knife in the way my grandfather intended, defending what is mine," she too glanced down at the blade. "I think he would be proud of me today. Are you proud of me?" she looked back up, searching his face, his bright eyes marveling down at her.
"Always."
Lifting the knife higher, she cleared her throat, "I give you this family knife...my grandfather's knife as a martial offering, stained with the blood of our enemies. I pledge my life and heart to you and promise that I will allow nothing to part us. Ever."
Leaning closer, he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes alive with adoration.
"Ivar Ragnarsson, will you marry me?"
.
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Yay! We are so close! The Last Kingdom Season 4
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Vikings (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Sigurd (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Harald Finehair/Original Female Character(s), Hvitserk (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character/Harald Finehair (Vikings), Aethelwulf/Judith (Vikings), Hvitserk (Vikings)/Original Female Character/ Ivar (Vikings), Blaeja/Sigurd (Vikings), Heluna (Blaeja)/Sigurd (Vkings) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Ivar (Vikings), Harald Finehair, Halfdan the Black, Sigurd (Vikings), Hvitserk (Vikings), Aethelwulf (Vikings), Aethelred (Vikings), Judith (Vikings), Ragnar Lothbrok, King Ecbert (Vikings), Alfred (Vikings), Bjorn (Vikings) Additional Tags: Sigurd lives, Possibly Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Flashbacks, maybe smut?, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies attract, some canon divergence, Roman Catholicism, Angst Summary:
Aethelswith, the Princess of Wessex, will face difficult choices as the pagans and the Great Heathen Army enter England. Answering the tough questions of her own biases and contradicting thoughts of their leaders, will she be able to save any part of Wessex?
- This is a rewrite of my old series "Cure for A King"
Ease The Dawn Pt.2 Ch.15
A/N - Sorry to those whose tag didn't work last chapter. Previous Chapter 14 here incase. This was a tricky chapter to write. Thanks for reading.
Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith Words - 2,100
Warnings - Angst, human sacrifice, death, sorrow, mentions of rape.
"That girl," Brana clucked her tongue, "I am afraid that I am siding with Ivar on this."
Murmuring, Aethelswith's face flinched, her eyelids fluttering open, attempting but unable to focus. Reaching forward, Brana touched her thin arm, letting her know she was near.
"You must always take care of him," Aethelswith whispered, her voice raspy from lack of use.
"Ivar?"
She did not reply.
"I have seen nothing but improvement in you over the last few days. You, my friend, can care for him yourself."
The slightest shift of Aethelswith's features, a sliver of brightness told Brana that she was amused.
Leaning closer, Brana studied her gaunt face, her skin still a pale shade of yellow, "I will admit, only to you, that I questioned what you saw in him. I feared for you even." Straightening her back, she gazed down, her thumb rubbing circles on Aethelswith's tiny wrists. "What was it, in the end, that made you run through a field of swinging swords for him?"
Sighing, Aethelswith shifted her head, letting her eyelids close. "Different things..," she breathed. "I suppose I had felt too much of his heart to be able to return to my life." Flicking open her eyes, she stared up as if looking at the ceiling. "He had become a part of me."
"There is not a person in all of Kattegat who does not know the bond you two share."
"Hmm," she hummed quietly.
"Were you afraid to leave your family?"
"Yes," she replied clearly. "But not as afraid of never seeing him again." Laying still for a moment, she tried with difficulty to clear her throat. "Will you marry Loni?"
"At some point, yes," Brana smiled.
"You love each other very much too."
"We do," Brana nodded. "He is a good man. He eats anything I cook, brings wood in without asking, holds me at night. Easy on the eyes," she lifted her dark brows, laughing lightly. "It's a quiet love, not what you are used to. No impassioned fights followed by wild love-making and bleeding-heart ultimatums but..."
"So, it is a healthy union," Aethelswith whispered, her dry lips pulling back into a smile.
"Aethelswith, is that wit I detect? You are feeling better. It is so good to talk with you. Ivar rarely gives me the chance."
"Where is Ivar?" she looked in the direction of Brana's voice.
"In the hall, alone. Hopefully eating. He has barely left your side. He wants so badly to protect you."
"Hmm," she hummed again, "Before me, his mother was the only person he felt ever cared for him and he left her after she begged him not to. He returned to find that she had been shot in the back and he felt it was because he had not been there. He may not think of it when he is being demanding and unreasonable, but it has shaped his entire way of being. It is fear and under it all, he just loves me," her eyes closed again and she sighed, visibly tiring. "He may not move in a straight line but he always comes back to center...my Ivar," her voice drifted off.
"Aethelswith? Aethelswith?" Frowning, Brana swallowed back the tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Staring down, she watched Aethelswith slip back into sleep, unable to shake the memory of her mother's words, describing the burst of clarity that often came to those in their final days. Picking up Aethelswith's slight hand, Brana kissed the back, "Please sweet one, wake up."
Eyelashes fluttering again, Aethelswith fought her way up from rest, her eyes straining to open.
"That's it. Let us try and get something into your tummy before all this conversation knocks you out."
----
Sitting on the floor, Ivar's unbound legs stretched out in front, his back and head rested against the side of the bed and in his hand, he held a stack of envelopes bundled with twine. Not bothering to dress, he sat in his sleeping clothes, the early morning air biting at his skin through the light linen. He needed to feel the chill, the cool air on his flesh, temper the burn he felt scorching his mind.
Daybreak was approaching and all was quiet; no steps could be heard in the corridor or commotion from the kitchen. No loud voices or wagons passing outside in the streets. Closing his eyes, he listened to her shallow, steady breathing as she lay behind him, tucked in under the covers. The hours had passed, and he had watched the darkness evaporate, slits of light beginning to illuminate the cracks in the closed shutters. Tomorrow would be the same and the day after that, the sun would rise, with one less pair of eyes as its witness.
So many lives he had taken and pain inflicted, so many families left behind broken. All in the name of victory and glory, and here he sat on the hard floor, on the last day of his life, resigned to his fate. Too small and too powerless to force death into retreat.
Shuddering, his stomach tightened, making him feel sick. Unable to find the words, he would stay there, on the cold ground, until he knew how to say goodbye to his beautiful Aethelswith. The agony of such a charge, at least, quelling any fear of his own end.
"Ivar?" her weak voice, rasped.
"I am here." Scrambling up, he pulled himself onto the bed, crawling to her side. "Right here, my sweet."
Shifting, he nestled in close, kissing her high on the temple. Sliding his hand under the cover, his fingers swept over her every pronounced rib. She did not turn to look at him, just stared up, blinking toward a ceiling still veiled in darkness from the illness.
Sighing at the feel of his embrace, she pressed her face against him, his nose rubbing along her cheek and breath loud in her ear. Inhaling as deeply as her lungs would allow, she breathed in again, silently praying that when God took her, he would allow her to keep the memory of his scent.
"Ivar?"
"Yes."
"There are things we need to say....while I am able."
Tensing, he lifted his head from the pillow, looking down at the sharp features of her face.
"Why do you say that?" he whispered.
"I feel like we must... prepare."
"You are talking about farewells."
"Yes..." she waited as if expecting him to object. "I have a journey to make."
Resting his head back to the pillow, he closed his eyes, attempting to hold back his tears. Even in death, he thought, his beloved, his princess and queen would be the one holding strong, helping him find his way. Reaching down, he took her small hand in his, the feel of it like parchment draped over bones.
"I have an admission to make," he said quietly. "I kept letters from you...from your brother, this entire time and I need you to know."
Tilting her face toward him, she said nothing, just listened.
"I had them translated every time one arrived. Five in total. I scrutinized every word, every detail, searching for any phrase that might convince you to return. I never did send a reply."
"What did Alfred say?"
"He expressed his grave concern for your safety and the soundness of your mind and decision. Suggested that I preyed on your vulnerability as my captive and your good nature, perhaps even placed you under some pagan spell."
"Sounds like Alfred," she whispered, her expression not changing.
"He questioned himself and if he had treated you as you deserved or ever properly acknowledged you as the remarkable person that you are. Spoke about mistakes he felt he had made, not putting his foot down with your mother. And...he was distressed by his decision to not send an army to bring you home. Worried it would haunt him until the end of his life. In every letter, he signed off by writing that he loved you, or missed you and that you always had a place at his side."
"I see," she said softly, laying still. "Thank you for telling me."
"I am sorry for keeping them from you; it was selfish and dishonest. I was so afraid you would leave."
"I know..." she exhaled, "I forgive you."
"You do?"
"Yes... After I am gone, please write to him...to Alfred. Tell him all the things you loved about me and what I meant to you. And please... tell him that in my final moments that I regretted nothing and I was always glad I followed you here. Please tell him that. It will ease his mind."
Knowing he could make no such promise, he said nothing, kissing the side of her cheek, hoping soon she would be well enough to make the voyage back to him.
Her eyes fell closed and her brows pinched together. "My love, your heart is racing. Here," she pressed closer to him, "hold me tighter, I will not break."
Hugging her carefully to him, he could feel the point of her hip bone, her stomach so flat, he imagined it rested on her spine. The condition of her body only pushed him, helped his resolve stay steady.
"You must find solace in your people," she continued quietly. "Do not lock yourself in this hall or sail away looking for blood. Share your pain with them, Ivar. They want to love you; I can feel it. You have been told all your life that your strength comes from your legs and your brutality, but that is wrong. Those people did not know you. Your strength comes from your heart. From your immense ability to feel. If you share that with your people, they will love you as I do. This, I promise."
The tears streaked down the sides of his eyes and he gasped trying not to sob. "You have taught me so much Aethelswith," he struggled, forcing out the words. "You, even more than my family taught me what it is to be Viking; to have courage, to be strong and that I was worthy of love. You are the greatest thing to have ever happened to me."
"Listen to me," she squeezed his hand. "Not once in my life did I think I could escape death and you need to know that I am not afraid. I will be brave, Ivar and only because you taught me how. And you, my love, are the greatest thing to have ever happened to me, and I pray that heaven feels as glorious as being with you."
"But I am afraid," he choked, his tears running and settling in the crease where their faces met, "afraid of being without you. You are the very heart that beats in my chest now and I am so grateful you kept us together. You gave me this life. You were all that ever mattered."
"Death will not part us. You told me that. We are forever altered because of each other. Stronger, wiser, softer and you now understand the vastness of your devotion. You will be left with all of that, and it will change everything."
"I cannot breathe without you."
"I know," she squeezed her eyes closed. "But I am tired and I need to go. You will keep me in your heart and that is where I will stay, inside of you. Breathing the air in your lungs, running in your thoughts. I will be there. You will see..."
"I am so sorry that you lived with my spite. It was all so meaningless. My selfishness and.... all the arguments. If I could go back..."
"Ivar, I always felt, always, that you simply wanted me close and that I was important. There is meaning in that."
"Gods," he looked up to the ceiling, shaking his head, "I cannot do this," he cried, his chest beginning to shake.
"You must Ivar and you will. You are the greatest man I have ever known and I would choose you all over again."
Pushing air out of his mouth, he fought to steady his voice, "I love you, Aethelswith, I love you."
"And I love you, Ivar. Forever."
Dawn broke as they lay still wrapped in each other's arms, casting reflections of light across the bed. His breathing began to settle, and as he held his beloved for the very last time, he knew by answering the call of the Gods, her strength was already returning.
"I need to sleep now...all this talking," she murmured. "Stay with me for a while and then go and get some fresh air. Yes?"
Lifting his head, he kissed the side of her forehead. "Of course, my sweet. I will stay until you fall asleep."
.
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Ease The Dawn P.2 Ch.11
A/N - Thank you so much for reading and liking and commenting.
Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith Words - 1,280
Warnings - ANGST
Suspended, weightless, the sound of water rushed in her ears as she fought the frantic urge to inhale. Thrashing in her heavy nightdress, she kicked with all her strength, staring up to the opening in the broken ice. Brightness from the surface above shone down on her face through the frigid darkness.
The burning in the muscles of her arms and legs began to spread to her lungs. They felt so stretched from holding her breath that another moment held might force them to rupture. Struggling up through the icy water, she broke the surface just long enough to gulp a breath of air.
The relief was short as her body sank back below, the sound of the world cutting away to quiet. Shooting back up, she hammered the water, treading to keep her chin above, her arms aching and her eyes wide searching for his face.
Succumbing to the cold lake again, she fell back under into the silence. Fighting hard to the top, she burst up, gasping, locking eyes with the immense stag. The impressive beast stood perfectly still, his eyes dark watching her small body battle for her life. One hoof of its strong front legs stomped before it lowered his snout, shaking his mange and sniffing the air above her.
It was now or die, she thought as she flung herself up, kicking with the last of her stamina. Catching a jagged lip on the edge with her fingers, she cried out, her other hand finding a ridge to hold onto.
Out of breath, she peered up at the commanding buck who again lowered his head and majestic rack toward her. He was so close that her fingers and face felt the warmth from his hot breath as fog blew out his snout.
Carefully, she reached a trembling hand up toward one of his thick horns. Desperation took over practical thought as she hoped he could somehow pull her from the water. The cold was turning her body numb and she knew, soon, her hands would let go.
Flinching, the animal grunted and jumped, slamming its front hooves down. Aethelswith's eyes shot wide as she felt the ice below her shift. Jumping again, the stag lifted his head and his large antlers. Eyes darting side to side, his ears pricked high as if he was listening to the hum of the snow gently fall.
Lurching, his body tensed as he looked over her head toward the tree line bordering the solid lake. His black eyes were fixed on a hooded figure carrying a bow and arrow walking out from the edge of the forest.
Following the beast's line of sight, she turned, watching in horror as the faceless man, wearing a green cloak with chainmail armour, moved in their direction. The large deer spooked again, snorting and ramming his legs down onto the icy surface. Murmuring soothing sounds, she gripped the edge and tried to draw the deer's eyes back to hers. Knowing in every part of her waning mind, that the man was there to kill them both.
The animal grunted and huffed, dipped his nose back down to her before skitting back on the thick ice. Glancing behind, she saw that the hunter was halfway across the frozen clearing. Stopping, he pulled an arrow from his back and lowered to rest one knee down, notching the arrow swiftly with his gloved hands. Snapping her head back to the stag, her frantic eyes locked with his. She sensed that he heard her silent command to flee. He did not budge. He stayed, standing tall but afraid, guarding her from above.
"Go," she whimpered, her face breaking with tears. "Go!" she urged louder, shaking her head at the fact that he was stepping even closer. "You ridiculous animal!" she yelled. "How can you possibly save me. Run! Get! Please."
Feeling the whizz of the arrow overhead, she had no time to cry a warning. The arrow struck the buck's broad chest, hitting him dead centre. Rearing up onto his hind legs, his agonizing squeal screamed out, his front hooves landed hard on the ice, and he collapsed forward onto his knees. His immense rack smacked the frozen surface splintering off an extension of horns. Huffing with wild eyes, the beast struggled as fog heaved from its mouth and nostrils. Lowering his magnificent head, he folded onto his side, groaning in what sounded like defeat.
"No," she whispered, her eyes still set with his, as blood trickled from the side of his mouth.
She knew her time was also done as her body had lost all feeling. Still, with a gnarled frozen hand, she tried to reach out to him. Slipping, she fell from the edge and sank back under.
The cold shocked her face and head as she weakly kicked her legs for the surface. She sucked in another breath when she broke above for just an instant. Gazing up through the blur of swirling water, she looked straight into the faceless void of the cloaked soldier. Leaning over the opening in the ice, he watched her lose her fight. Staring at him, her movements slowed, letting the cold and exhaustion take over. She felt all the fear of dying and still chose to surrender. As the water filled her lungs, she eased her panic by imagining the face of the magnificent beast and his sharp, brilliant stare. Embracing the darkness in his beautiful eyes, she drifted back into the black.
—
Gasping up toward the ceiling, Ivar's eyes slammed open, his body surged up from the mattress as he sucked air into his lungs. His hand shot to his bare chest, searching for the strike. Finding the smooth skin unbroken with no arrow protruding, he exhaled and slumped back onto the bed. Disorientated, his eyes darted around their chambre as he lay still, struggling to make sense of the sting he felt in his chest. It felt so real.
"I am so sorry, King Ivar, for waking you," a thrall named Ursa rushed. Straightening from where she crouched on the wooden floor, she rose quickly, hurrying back from his side of the bed. "I know you have not been sleeping long, I am sorry."
"Aethelswith," he whispered and snapped his head over to look. Laying still on her back and wearing a thin nightgown, her wavy hair was loosely plated and her face was tilted in his direction. The neatly folded washcloth across her forehead told him one of the many healers, working in shifts, had recently been in.
Digging his elbows down into the bed, he hurried onto his side and pressed his lips to her tepid cheek. Still in the fog of sleep, he was surprised, half expecting her skin to be ice cold like the black water in his dream. Lowering his eyes from her peaceful face, he watched her breath move her chest. Her temperature had broken and she had the slightest hint of colour sprouting on her cheeks.
"What!" he snarled, turning and glaring at the slave who now stood as far back from the bed as she could.
"King Ivar, I apologize," she whined. "King Harald is in the hall...growing impatient... agitated. He is insisting, insisting," she repeated. "He says he will not leave until he speaks with you about Lady Aethelswith. My king," she dropped the volume of her voice. "I heard him speaking with his men. He wants to take her."
.
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Ease The Dawn Pt.2 Ch.8
A/N - Thank you for reading and for all of your encouragement.
Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith Words - 2,300
Warnings - Explicit sexual content, historically inaccurate, trope heavy
The water had lost it's steam and yet she lingered in the wooden tub that sat in the corner of their chamber. Turning over, she rested her chin on the outer rim extending her arm over the edge and watched the drops of water trickle off her fingers. Looking up, she stared at the back of Ivar's chair. Slouched over his worktable, he studied papers filled with figures and had been since after the evening meal.
The recent events seemed to pull his eye back to center and over the last week, he had waived off his usual late-night cups of ale with his brother and other men in the hall. Instead, he waited until the visiting king returned to his lodgings before withdrawing and making his way back to her.
Knowing the agreement between Ivar and Harald, she understood why Ivar would not dare leave the king alone with his men. People were fickle and in Kattegat, like any other place, alliances could shift with the wind. None the less, Aethelswith was happy to have him back, sharing her space each night, though, she was yet to reap all the benefits of his return.
"Would you care to join me?" she asked the back of his head. His hair freshly plated in one braid over his crown and down the back of his neck.
"Would you care to be my wife?" he replied in a disinterested tone.
Rolling her eyes, she pushed herself to stand and grabbed the drying towel that had been left beside the tub on her stool. The latest gift from Ivar to prevent any further falls climbing from the tub. It was made with rich coloured wood and had a carved heart in the center. Each time she placed her foot down, she was reminded of the small decorative box of charcoal he had gifted her while in the camp.
Patting the water off her body, she wrapped her robe around her shoulders, leaving the front open with the ties dangling at her sides. Noticing Ivar had not lifted his head to catch a glimpse as she walked passed, she swiped a little brown bottle off the table in her dressing area and climbed onto their bed.
Sitting straight against the headboard she drew up her knees and began pouring small drops of oil out of the bottle onto the skin of her legs. With small circles starting at her ankles, she worked it in all the way up to just below her groin.
"What are you doing?" Ivar asked from the table which sat facing the bed. His eyes staying fixed on the rows of tallies.
"You know my skin gets dry when the weather starts to shift." Opening the robe wider, she spread the oil over the side of her hip. "The cold comes so much earlier here than at home."
Lifting his eyes to her, he appeared to scowl, visibly straining to hold his stern demeanour. "Is this not your home?" his eyebrows lifted.
"You are my home. Wherever you are. I would live with you in a kindling box. In fact," she looked up and smiled, "I have!" Parting her knees just enough, she ran the oil up her inner thigh. "And...you know what I meant when I said home."
"And...I know what you are doing now." Clearing his throat, he forced a cough, looking back down to his work.
"I have no idea what you are talking about." She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.
Opening the front of her robe, she shimmied her shoulders free, letting it slip behind, exposing her body entirely. Pouring droplets of oil into her hands, she rubbed them together to warm the slick liquid before smoothing it down each arm.
"You started bathing in the evenings and you dismiss that slave of yours as soon as I return for the night."
"She is terrified of you."
"She should be," he scoffed. "What is that?" he asked, finally returning his eyes to her. Despite his cool tone, his bright eyes burned into her, raking over her round breasts and soft pink nipples, her smooth legs and delicious thighs, all shining warmly in the light from the candles. Narrowing his eyes at her disguised nothing.
"Skin oil. Brana and I each bought a bottle at the market today. It has the scent of jasmine. Would you like to smell?
"Would you like to marry me?" he crooned sarcastically.
Not responding, she looked up to find his expression darkened, his severe eyes still blazing over her skin.
"You think I became the leader of the Great Army and King of Kattegat because I am weak, Aethelswith?" Clucking his tongue, he shook his head and shot her one of his wicked smiles. "No, my sweet. I did not."
Undeterred, she began to spread the oil onto her breasts. A hand on each side, smoothing and tugging the already supple flesh. Her nipples responded to the cool air and her slow touch and, of course, his vehement stare.
Grunting lowly, Ivar cleared his throat again. Shifting in his chair, he attempted to adjust the front of his leathers, beginning to constrict his growing erection.
"I can look," he ribbed, "you are still my woman. But I will not touch until you agree to my terms."
"I agree to nothing," she replied, not looking up. His tone reminding her how he addressed his men.
Parting her legs further, she dropped oil onto her belly. The amber coloured droplets ran down to her small mound of hair.
Pushing the table forward, Ivar dropped from his seat to the floor and, with a huff, crawled towards her. Heaving himself up onto the large trunk at the base of their bed, he dropped to his tummy, resting on the intricately carved wooden lid.
"Stop it, Aethelswith," he warned.
"Or what, my love?" she replied sweetly, glancing up to his riled face and stiff jaw, nostrils flaring wide. "You said yourself that you can look. So....look."
Unable to stop himself, he was mesmerized by her body. Her slender shoulders and bare chest, flat tummy and round hips, smooth thighs and the utter gold that lay between. Gods, he missed her taste and smell, how her wetness felt when he was buried deep. His face looked pained and the sound of air sucking in through his nose nearly pushed Aethelswith to laugh.
Looking up at the same time, their eyes met, and she dropped her knees even wider, pouring the oil directly onto her core. Snarling, he gritted his teeth, his hardness jutting into the side of the trunk. His mind was flooded with thoughts of him on top of her, sucking her tits and shoving his tongue into her mouth.
"Gods!" he exclaimed out loud, with her legs bared wide, watching her rub her breasts and quietly whine. How he had missed her perfect face beaming up at him while he called her his queen, and the Goddess of his dreams as he withdrew only to fill her warm, tight womb again.
Wetting her lips with her tongue, she languidly leaned back against the pillows, sliding her hands down the tops of her legs, then back up the inside of her thighs. The pads of her fingers beginning to gently smooth the oil over her silken folds. Keeping her eyes on him, she tipped up her chin and moaned.
Unable to break his trance, Ivar's mouth fell open and with hooded eyes, he rutted his groin hard against the side of the wooden chest.
"Aethelswith! Stop this right now!" he scolded watching her relish his hunger; her hands touching the tender parts of her body that belonged to him.
"This feels lovely," she breathed out, gently moving her hips. "I have been so dry lately."
Letting her knees fall completely open flat to the bed, she pushed her hips up, letting out a soft whimper before sliding her finger right inside.
"Fuck!" Ivar roared.
Withdrawing, she swirled her wetness up encircling her sensitive nub. Whimpering again, she closed her eyes and gently bucked her hips.
"Aethelswith!" Ivar shouted loud enough for the guards in the corridor to glance at one another.
"My king," she spoke not opening her eyes, continuing to knead her own breast. "Do you not wish to remind me that I am yours?"
A bestial growl rang out through their room as Ivar leaned to one side and unbuckled his top leathers. Bracing himself on the chest with his other arm, he dropped the heavy jacket onto the floor, awkwardly pulling his green tunic off his shoulders. Not once lifting his threatening eyes from her exquisite form.
Increasing her pace, Aethelswith rocked her hips and ran her finger back and forth along her slippery slit. Breathing faster, she stopped only to bring her fingers to her mouth and lick her own wetness off.
"It is so unfortunate, my beloved Ivar, that you choose to ride that piece of furniture stead of this," dropping her hands to her womanhood, she spread her folds apart, showing him her shining pink hole. Flexing her hip, she pushed her wide-open sex forward.
With the scream of death, Ivar launched himself forward. Dragging himself between her legs, he looked like a lion ready to rip meat from her ribs. Slamming his mouth into her stretched apart cunt, he drove his tongue deep inside her. Digging hard, he growled, unlike any man but a demon possessed. Aethelswith squealed with elation. Pushing her pelvis up into his face, she held his braid, lifting her chin to the ceiling in both ecstasy and relief.
"Yes, my warrior," she cried out.
Snapping his head up, his face was glistening with her desire and his eyes were wild as if he had just feasted on her blood.
"You will pay for this," he sneered.
Rolling onto his back, he grunted, frantically ripping open and pulling down the front of his pants. His painful erecting slapped his stomach, the tip nearly purple and aching.
"Yes, punish me," she rushed, needy for his touch. "Please, my king, fuck me."
Like in a rage, he climbed back between her legs, leaning on a forearm and grabbed the base of his shaft slamming into her hard. Freezing, they both gasped from the sensation after the agonizing months without. Looking down, his mouth fell slack and his eyes began to soften, filling with emotion but within an instant, the monster within returned. His eyes grew dark and his lips curled back, exposing his sharp teeth. Digging his hand under her shoulder, he pushed his palm up to her head and yanked back a fistful of her hair. Gasping again, her eyes shot wide as she stared back at his savage expression. Hovering above and perilously slow, he ran his long tongue from her chin, across her mouth and up to her forehead. "You are mine!" he roared, thrusting his hips forward. "You. Are. Mine!" he bellowed, driving into her in time with each pronounced word.
Raising her hands above the pillows, she pressed, bracing herself against the bed.
"Is this what you wanted? Hmm?" he growled. "My cock as punishment?" He drove her harder and harder, pausing only to withdraw enough to bring his tip to her entrance before thrusting back in.
"Yes," she choked out, struggling to swallow with her head being pinned back.
"How dare you tease me!" he slammed into her roughly. "Tease me with your pretty, pink cunt. Your sweet little hole. I'm going to fuck it until my seed spills out." Rutting faster, the frame of the bed began to slam against the wall. Leaning down, he pressed his bared teeth against her cheek fighting the urge to rip into her face and thrash. "You are mine! Mine!" he shouted over and over, pounding into her as if he wanted to break her.
Her incoherent cries mixed with her frantic breath, ceased suddenly as her finish exploded. Dropping her hands to his shoulders, she pushed against him, rigid, her eyes squeezing closed as her womanhood clenched and pulsed.
Growing frenzied his movements became heavy, his arms shook from the weight of his body. His peak hit with the strength of a battle ram. Back stiffening, his cock speared her one last time before he shot his milt deep inside, collapsing forward, his broad chest pressing her into the mattress.
Laying there, out of breath, with closed eyes and tingling hands, he was lulled to near unconsciousness by the sound of his own heart racing.
The distant sound of men yelling skoll drew Ivar back from the void. With effort, he pulled out and rolled off, slumping onto his back beside.Both looked up at the ceiling with their bodies still thrumming, unable to string words together.
"Did I hurt you?" he whispered after some time.
Glancing over, she smiled. "No, I am well. Very well." She smiled again, her fingers latching onto his hand.
The sound of a pained sob snapped her attention back to him. Contorted in sorrow, his chin trembled as tears spilled down the sides of his eyes streaming toward his temples. Clambering up onto her knees, she crawled atop him and straddle his waist. Searching his face, her own face, mirrored his anguish.
"Please Aethelswith, marry me. I love you so much. Be my queen," he choked. "I am hurting. You have to figure out a way," he bawled, "I feel like my heart is breaking apart." Shaking his head, his wide eyes looking up at her, showed the depth of his torment.
"I will find a way," she nodded frantically, her own tears burning down her face. "We will figure out a way," she cried, wanting so desperately to ease his hurt. Bending forward, she pressed her lips to his, feeling every bit of his suffering. Lowering her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "It is not about if I will marry you, only when and remember what you said, my love, nothing can part us ever. Not even death."
.
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The Last Kingdom season 4 [x][x]