Author’s Notes | I hope you like the result, love!
Universe | Vikings
Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Reader’s daughter
Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW Ivar vol. II, posted for HTGI event
Words | 1619
⁑ Warnings: Mentinos to pain, possible incorrect quotes or informations about Ivar’s condition.
She was trembling when she came into my hall for the first time.
"King Ivar."
Even her voice was trembling. I could bet her fingers were cold, although the package in her hands was made of warm blankets. Her dress was ragged here and there, and her hair wasn't properly braided. But her beauty was undeniable.
However, what caught my eyes wasn't her pretty face but the way she approached my throne, bending enough so I could see the little face contorting itself, essaying a cry.
"I beg you... Please help me," she said, eyes teary.
Her hands unfolded the blanket making my eyes large. It was only a second before she folded the blankets around the little girl once again, hiding the twisted bones of her legs from the cold that made the child start cooing, annoyed.
I saw that woman clinging to that package as if her whole life was inside those blankets. And, for a moment, that scene made me remember my mother.
"You lived through it," that woman's voice woke me out of my memories, allowing me to notice the obvious difference between her and my beautiful mother. "I beg you mercy, my lord. Teach me, please. I want her to live. I know she can live! Her father doesn't believe the gods enough, but I saw what they did to you. You've done it. Please, my lord, teach me how to help her."
She didn't want her daughter to survive. No. Mother wanted me to survive. She wanted me to be there for her. That woman wanted her daughter to be like me...
She wanted her daughter to live.
"This Thing is over. I have matters to solve," I said, dismissing the other citizens.
My eyes on her, seeing how strongly she was fighting the tears. Her fear that I wouldn't help stamped on her face.
An expression that vanished completely when I caught my crutch, getting up to walk towards her.
"Bring the girl inside, woman. First lesson you need to learn: it is never warm enough for her."
Her tears broke down, but she nodded. And I could see the determination in her eyes, shining with hope and gratitude over me.
We placed the little girl inside my room, and she slept on my bed while her mother and I sat for a talk.
I discovered her name was Y/N. The little girl she named Eira seeking Eir's mercy over the little one. The bastard she once called a husband expelled them when she refused to leave the little girl to the wolves telling him king Ivar was a great man even being like her.
I was great in her eyes. I was the reason why she had faith her little girl could be someone. Something more than her father's shame...
She asked me for a place to serve in my castle since she had no place to live. I gave her the servant room beside mine and offered to serve me for a payment she could use to sustain herself and her little girl.
She accepted those crumbs as if I was saving her life.
The next day she had her little girl tied to her chest, cleaning and organizing everything I told her to.
During her work, I observed how lovely she was towards that tiny thing tied to her chest, sometimes dancing, sometimes making unnecessary rounds with the broom, everything to keep the little child entertained. The twisted little legs tightly kept against Y/N's chest as she restrained her own movements to avoid hurting her little girl.
That woman was different from anything I'd ever seen. Even from my mother - who would do nothing but care about me, neglecting my brothers, and sometimes herself, to keep me alive. Y/N was doing everything for her daughter, but as soon as the little one was asleep, I saw her brushing her own hair, messing with her clothes to find out the holes and sew them, eating properly from the portions I send to her; ensuring to be healthy and strong to care for the girl she carried around like a little treasure.
It touched my heart one day at a time.
And when the pain came and I saw Y/N in despair, lulling the little Eira trying to make her sleep, I came into her room sitting on the simple bed she would spend her nights on, and extending my arms towards her.
Her eyes were full of faith when she delivered the little Eira in my hands, observing as I gently placed the little one on the basked, moving her legs as little as possible until they were well supported and warmed by the blankets around her. With my fingers, I mashed some of my own herbs letting drops of the bitter juice fall into the little one's mouth, observing as it slowly did its job, relieving the pain and allowing Eira to fall asleep.
It was the first time I saw Y/N crumble in front of me, bitting her lips to cry in silence the anguish of her little girl's pain but also the relief of seeing she was finally tranquil.
I would see that several times. I would help Y/N to immobilize Eira's broken little legs properly to prevent them from healing the wrong way. I would help her to care for the little one's wounds when they came. And when nothing would help Eira's pain, I would help Y/N's to hold on to her faith that the gods had granted her daughter a better fate.
Whenever that little child slept after my touch, I felt a little like Harbard, taking away her pain like he'd done for me when I was younger. But, unlike me, Eira had my knowledge to help her grow better. To help her suffer less.
I didn't see when that little girl and her mother invaded my heart. Y/N learned from me to care for her child, but I saw her using what she'd learned several times to care for me instead.
She was the one providing my teas, helping with my wounds, sewing protections to make my braces more comfortable...
Relieving my pain. My loneliness.
Standing beside me even in my worst days, Y/N became someone I couldn't see myself without. Someone I didn't want to see myself without. And along with her, Eira also became a part of my life, making my heart melt when she started dragging herself around my hall like I used to do, imitating so soon the ways I had fought so hard to learn by myself.
She would come to me full of trust and laugh at me so easy!
Sometimes she wouldn't sleep if I wasn't near. Sometimes I would hear Y/N telling her my story, painting me as some kind of hero Eira was starting to follow.
And it would make me proud.
Y/N made me proud of what was once my worst shame. She made me feel I wasn't incomplete, nor half of a man. She made me feel my whole life had sense, meaning.
I'd come like that, with my twisted legs and pain, cause the gods knew my mind was gifted. The gods knew I would create ways to live.
And now, my ways were making Eira's life possible.
Better.
Easier.
Slowly, I took Y/N more and more from the service of the hall. Soon, she was something like a personal servant to me. She would go anywhere I would go, and I wouldn't want anyone but her around when I was moody or living a bad day.
She became my relief as much as I once was hers.
It was inevitable to fall in love with that woman. To bring her into my life. To want her as my queen.
"I want you, Y/N. I want Eira. And I don't want to ever hear about your ex-husband once again. He's nothing but past. He's nobody. She's my little girl, and this is how I want things to be now."
She didn't argue. But I could see it wasn't the initial fear that prevented her from arguing with me or trying to contradict my arguments. Y/N's fingers touched my face that night and she touched our foreheads with tenderness.
"I wouldn't want any different," I remember she said.
Her nose nuzzling against mine in a caress I would discover it was my favorite sensation in Midgard.
"Eira is my gift from the gods. And they've decided to bless me again with you."
Now my little Eira was twelve years old. Her little braces were reproductions of mine, in a smaller size. She couldn't run around with the other children, but she would spend hours playing hnefatafl with me, making me the best company I could ever want.
She was definitely better than I ever was. Always filling our hearts with joy whenever she would play with her two little brothers the gods had blessed me with.
I'd noticed her blood-father walking around sometimes, looking at her at the market or observing as she would easily walk with her crutch around, sometimes trying to go a little faster than she really could just to show me something she wanted or giggle with her usual playful tone. I could see he regretted his mistake, but I never gave him a chance to approach, always looking at him with blues icy cold. A warning that it was too late for his excuses.
Y/N and Eira were mine now. My little princess, my queen.
They’d become my treasures.
And his time to claim back what he'd left was long gone.
The weeks Ivar had been gone left (y/n) with a sense of dread and lineless. Her soulmate was off fighting a war while she was left behind to rule the kingdom. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy and while under the watchful eye of Jonah she seemed to be doing well. However, many thoughts filled her mind. What if she went into labor before he returned? What if he was delayed and she had to give birth alone? Trying to keep herself calm she would sit in the gardens and go for walks with her ladies and Jonah. Her belly was swollen and near bursting. (Y/N) as thankful that there was peace within her kingdom despite the raging war that was at their loved ones were forced to face.
As she made her way back to the castle she felt a quick and sharp pain in her lower back. “Oh…” She said causing her ladies and Jonah to become alarmed.
“Come Majesty,” they said as another hit. “We should get you comfortable.”
Home...Ivar was on his way home. That word brought such joy to his heart. To know that (y/n) was waiting for him. He couldn’t wait to see her smile and to hold her in his arms. To have his hands caress her belly now swollen with his child. He did not care what the gender was so long as the babe was healthy. He had feared the baby would turn out like him. However, Jonah assured him that since he had fixed his legs all possibility was gone.
To think the once crippled man who longed to be just like any other normal man. Now, that man had everything in the world he could possibly want. A wife, a child on the way and he was a King. Not only that but he had gained his first victory in battle. His men were joyful around him. Ivar couldn't’ describe a better feeling.
They made a good time getting back. The moment they stepped through the gate they were welcomed by cheers of joy. Between the shouts of merriment, Ivar heard someone shouting for him. Looking down he saw a young boy who worked in the castle. He couldn't get past the large crowd so Ivar road up to the boy.
“What is it?” he asked loudly over the shouts.
“Her Majesty! She’s giving birth!” He replied in an equally loud voice before he was hoisted onto the King’s horse and they rode towards the castle. Ivar pushed his horse to run faster through the city before they arrived in the courtyard. Jumping down, he gave his horse to the boy before running inside. His legs carried him as fast as his horse had. His boots clapping loudly against the stone floor. He heard the cries of pain before he even saw Jonah.
“Ivar!” The older man shouted, “You are back!” He ran forth and the two embraced. A loud scream pierced the silence again causing Ivar to jerk towards the door. But Jonah held him back. “I know it is painful to sit here and listen. But, let the midwives work their skill. I promise you she is in good hands.” Jonah squeezed Ivar’s shoulder as another scream filled the air.
Ivar hated every minute of it. Every sound that came from that room shattered him. He paced back and forth in the hall over and over again. His boots clicking against the stone. He felt as if he might go mad!
Two hours later...
Two long hours he had to sit there and listen to his beloved suffer without him. Then, finally, with one last scream...a new sound came to his ears. His head snapped towards the door as he felt his heart racing and tears formed in his eyes.
The midwife emerged from the room sometime after that with a warm smile on her face. “Your majesty, they are waiting for you.” She said before curtsying to her king.
Ivar’s feet felt as if they were made of stone. He was slow in his movements towards the bedchamber he shared with his wife. Finally, his eyes locked onto the tired sweaty figure of his beloved (y/n). She lay there on the bed propped up by pillows as a newborn babe lay wrapped in a blanket at her breast. Slowly (y/n) looked up and smiled with a joyful expression. “Ivar...you made it...” she said happily as he rushed to the side of the bed. He sat down beside her before he pressed his lips to hers. His heart jumped into his throat at the feel of her lips.
“I have missed you, my love.” He whispered to her before pulling away at the sound of little babbles. A tear fell from his eye when he looked down at the child.
“He has your eyes, my love.” (y/n) smiled happily as she watched the shock appear on her husbands face.
“He? I have a son....” He sniffled as his wife passed him their son to hold. “He is so small...so...fragile...”
“But he will grow up big and strong just like his father. A great warrior.”
“Thank you, my love. Now, I am truly the happiest man on this earth.” Ivar smiled before he pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “We must think of a name for you my little prince.” His happiness poured through him as the baby held onto his finger before yawning and falling asleep in his father's arms.
Little wet hairs stuck to your forehead as another wave of agonizing pain shoot through your entire body. A throaty groan left your lips, your head falling back into the furs you were lying on – they were rigid and irritated your soft skin, but it was the least of your problems. You propped yourself on your elbows when the pain subsided, knowing very well that another hit was coming within seconds.
You growled as the little brunette thrall put a wet cloth on your burning shoulders, scaring her off – but you couldn’t care less, another wave was coming sooner than expected. And gods this one hit you hard. You barely registered the words of the old woman kneeling between your parted legs as you felt a sudden urge to push. And so you did, with all your force. Gritting your teeth and shutting your eyes you focused on this sole action, praying to the gods, begging them to deliver you from the pain. But as the sigh that left the woman’s chapped lips reached your ears you knew it was all for nothing and let yourself fall back down, defeated.
It’s been hours and you haven’t progressed at all. A loud sob ripped through you, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision. Your hands flew to your hair, grabbing it tightly and pulling at it in frustration. You couldn’t do it.
Shaking your head, you whimpered. You could feel their eyes on you, filled with worry and pity. Looking down you caught the old woman’s gaze. Her grey eyebrows were furrowed but she managed to give you a small smile, trying to comfort you.
“I- ” Your throat was dry and ached after all the crying and screaming – whole Kattegat must have heard you. You winced, swallowing down trying to sooth it. “I can’t do it.”
“Y/N, we’re almost there. You’re doing so-” She said calmly, her hand rubbing circles into your calf but you cut her off.
You knew it was a lie. You’ve been lying here, exposed, since this morning. Resting in the middle of the cabin in the same position, pushing over and over, to no avail. You were exhausted, your limbs felt numb and you could barely move. You just wanted to get it over with, but you couldn’t do it alone.
“No.” You snapped. “I can’t do it on my own. I need him.” You watched her exchange a look with one of the thralls, a petite redhead you did not even recognise. After a few painfully long seconds she nodded towards the door and you let out a long breath, relieved that your husband was going to be there, by your side, in a moment.
Just as the door opened, the muscles in your core tightened – pain taking over your body once again. Your eyes widened, alarmed, and you looked up to the ceiling shaking your head vigorously. No, no, no. Tears ran down your face as you tried, one more time, to push the child out. You were so close to giving up, so close to yelling at all the thralls and the healer to get out and leave you alone when a warm hand gripped yours, making you lift you head.
Your eyes met with icy blue ones and you smiled tiredly as your husband moved closer to you, sitting on the furs and letting you rest your head on his lap.
“I’m so sorry.” You said as the contraction passed. Closing your eyes you rubbed your cheek against the harsh material of his pants, taking in the familiar scent of your man.
“Don’t be, you’re doing great.” He praised, his voice unusually calm. A warm feeling spread in your chest when you looked up at Ivar. His eyes were full of love, admiration and a hint of what you believed was concern.
But seeing him here, holding your hand tightly as he brushed your hair away from your face with the other, gave you strength. And for the first time since it all started, you were ready for the next blow.
“I love you.” You whispered as you felt it coming, starting in your stomach then moving down. You shut your eyes closed, squeezing your husband’s hand as you pushed for the umpteenth time. Bending down, Ivar’s lips ghosted over your sweaty forehead.
“You’re doing amazing, love.” He kissed you softly, his free hand massaging your scalp. “Just like that, you’re almost done.” He smiled as the old woman between your legs gave him a firm nod, letting him know it was working. So he kept on talking to you, whispering sweet words only for you to hear. Encouraging and praising you, telling you how proud of you he was and how impatient he was to meet your child. Your child. A little human being that you have created.
It only took a few more pushes, a few more minutes, and all of sudden you felt empty. Panicked, you opened your eyes and immediately looked up to your husband. But he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were focused on something else, his mouth agape. And then you heard it, the loudest yet the most comforting cry you’ve ever heard. You barely had time to react, to move, when the child was placed on your chest.
“It’s a boy.” The healer said softly before standing up, mentioning to all the slaves to follow her out, leaving you and your husband alone with your new born son.
“He’s beautiful.” You said after a couple of minutes, running your finger gently down his cheek. And he truly was, even covered in your blood. A soft laugh left your parted lips as your son fussed in your arms, getting into a more comfortable position before settling down. He was gorgeous. The prettiest baby you have ever seen. You could look at him for hours.
You pulled yourself up higher, resting your back against Ivar’s chest, and you sat there in the dimly lit room.
The calming silence was cut by a soft whimper coming from your left. You turned slowly, careful not to frighten the little bundle of joy sleeping in your arms. Your lips curved into a smile at the sight of your husband, the fearless Ivar the Boneless, brushing tears off his reddened cheeks.
You’ve never seen him cry before. Not even when he learnt that his mother was killed. Seeing him this vulnerable in front of his first born son, with tears stains on his puffy cheeks and his eyes still shining, made you smile with joy and pride.
“What do you want to name him?” You asked, catching his attention. His wide blue eyes met your E/C ones. He kissed you quickly before answering, already having a name in mind.
“Kalei.” He said, his hand moving to his son’s head, touching him for the first time. He caressed his dark hair carefully, as if he was going to break him.
“Kalei.” You repeated, testing the name. “I love it.” You placed your lips on Ivar’s cheek, kissing him softly before turning your attention back to the infant. As if he had sensed it, Kalei opened his big eyes, blinking furiously a few times before focusing on something, or more like someone. You could hear your husband’s breath hitch at that exact moment.
“Thank you.” Ivar said not breaking eye contact with his son, bringing an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought he would never be able to please a woman, even less to have a child. But everything changed when he met you. You took your time with him, reassured him, loved him. And now, you gave him a son. A beautiful, healthy son. He’ll always be grateful to the gods for bringing you together, for letting him have a son. And he’ll never thank you enough for giving him the one thing he thought he would never have.
You smiled gently at your lover, pecking his lips once more. The way he looked so lovingly at your son made you forget all the pain, all the crying you went through. It was rare to see him like this, to see him genuinely happy. So the pain, the screams, they were all worth it. You couldn’t wait to watch him show your child off to his brothers, to his men – to the whole world.
Just letting y’all know that the title is “Happiness” because Kalei means happiness so yeah byeee (yes, I’m 100% ashamed of that fic)
The light was shining thorough the drapes hanging in the window. Hitting your face as you tossed and turned, rolling over to be greeted by a mass of brown hair. A gentle groan escaping the hidden lips. “Come on husband. It’s time we get up” you insist. Poking at the body and muscles next to you, as it jolted and shrugging you off. “Wife, I will wake when I am ready thank you” his tone making you laugh. Your mind was going crazy with all the things you wanted to do to him. Morning sex was definitely your favourite, knowing how he loved to wake up with your touch.
“You have meetings and official business to see to Ivar” you stated nuzzling in behind him. Sliding your arm under his, gliding over his muscles and chest.
“Do we have to? 5 more minutes while he’s asleep” he whined and you laughed. Placing gentle kisses along the back of his neck, and jaw to his cheek. You could hear him hum in approval. But you decided to taunt him, rolling onto your back. Laying there and letting your hand roam over your body.
“Well that wasn’t fair” he groaned as he rolled over. You could see him being gently with his legs. He raised a brow at you and bit his lip. Watching your hands. “You do look beautiful” he stated as he moved closer, resting his head on your breasts. You let out a small laugh, your ringers playing with his hair. Watching your husband smile to himself, placing his hand on your hip holding you. You loved how he felt, even just laying skin to skin like this. It always put you in a good mood.
The nights had been tense lately with your son Isandro. Having reached a point where his teeth are breaking, all he did was cry. Wanting everything, no meaning nothing, He couldn’t settle to sleep lately. “How long do you reckon we have?” You whisper as if he could hear you from his room.
This led to Ivar placing a finger to you lips “shh, don’t tempt the gods” he said. Causing you to smirk rolling your eyes. Ivar placing his head back, to your breasts to. “I’ve missed these” he stated aloud, his hand holding the spare one. His fingers and thumb started gliding over your nipples. “Having to share is no fun”.
As if on que, a faint cry could be heard, coming from your Isandro’s room. Getting louder, eventually erupting through the hallway. “Well he has your set of lungs” you retort. Tapping Ivar to move so you could get out of bed. Slipping a gown on over you. Looking over your shoulder, you could see Ivar settle back in the bed. Mocking what you said, as you poked your tongue out. Swiftly making your way to your son’s room. “Morning little man” you Coe as you get to his slightly bigger than a crib bed. Reaching your arms out, instantly stopping the crying. Isandro now giggling, reaching his arms to you to be scooped up.
“Shall we go get daddy?” You ask receiving a nod. His light brown hair with loose ringlets, framing his face and clear blue eyes much like his fathers. Just looking at him made your heart flutter, worry and excitement at the same. “daddy, daddy, daddy” as he chanted and you bounced him on your hip through the hallway. “Shhh. I think daddy is asleep” you say causing his head to whip round, looking up at you wide eyed, placing his little hands over his mouth.
You placed him on his hands and knees on the bed next to you. watching Ivar stir, head under the furs. “Wake him up Isandro” you say with a smirk as you watched him crawl Crawling up to his dad.
“Daddy” he chimed, as he made his way to Ivar’s back, holding on. Watching on as he rolled over onto his own back, laughing at himself. Clearly finding himself amusing.
“That’s right buddy you stay there” laughing to yourself. Watching Ivar’s head poke above the furs. Ivar rolling over, but using his arms to keep hold of his son.
“You couldn’t upset your dad now could you” he smirked back. Holding Isandro on to his chest, blowing in his face watching him laughing as he closed his eyes. Ivar insisting smugly at your attempt to wake him had failed. “He’s on daddy’s team, aren’t you son” he added. Stretching an arm tickling the wiggling mass, causing hysterical laughter from both Ivar and Isandro.
You joined them both on the bed, joining Ivar under the furs A couple of minutes had passed. Resulting in Ivar finally shimmying out of the bed. You laid on the bed, thinking to yourself about how lucky you were. With such a great husband, and an incredible son. Even if he had reached his difficult phase.
A/N: I decided to write a fic where there was Daddy/Husband Ivar domestic and short reader feels. The reader is 4ft9 because that’s how tall I really am. (Seriously).
Summary: Ivar’s aranged marriage is more successful than anyone (his mother included) would have thought, leaving the other Ragnarson’s bitter and jealous trying to rock the happiness they have found in each other.
Pairing: Ivar x OFC (There is only a handful of characters that I own everything else belongs to History Channel)
Rating: Eventual Mature Rating (I like it slow burn)
Author’s Note: Alright, I’ll be honest with all of you...I’m very nervous about posting this Ivar x Oc fanfiction. But with the encouragement of a very special sister wife I’ve posted the very first chapter of this fanfic! I hope that everyone truly enjoys the story and can forgive the first chapter for being a bit slow. If anyone has any questions or comments please shoot me a message and I’ll get back at you as soon as possible. <3
Everything was different here. The air was crisp, the skies clear showcasing a soft blue and sporadic clouds with a gentle shine. The grass, though moist from the fresh rain that cascaded down only moments ago smelt of flowers and the blooming of spring. Quiet calls of birds to their mates and the soft steps of deer filled the air. Yes, things were very different here. There were no screams. No moaning of the dying and no one to watch as you slowly wither away in a cage with a twisted grin on their face. It was peaceful. Whatever this haven may be, she was glad to feel safe again. Everything was perfect, just perfect…
Hands. That was the first thing the girl felt, grazing her skin with a blazing path from shoulder to shoulder as if someone were gripping them. Then it was scent, the smell of sweat and pine filled her nostrils as the hands begun to shake her softly. Finally, her ears twitched to life, a voice. Whomever this deep voice belonged to called out a name, a name that held some type of spell on her, willing her out of the paradise that she previously found herself in.
“…wake up…”
She shifted slightly in the grass, arching her back to find some sort of comfort, only to have the soft blades of grass leave her sensitive skin. In its place, rough sturdy wood slapped against her back, making her hiss slightly from the contact. The hands shook her harder, the back of her head lightly smacking the floor giving the girl a slight headache. As she grumbled, slowly lifting her head to the side, she noticed a bright light forming behind her lidded eyes. The girl blinked once, then again. Her eyes focused on the bright light, now a hole in the ceiling which was the source of her earlier blindness. Her half lidded eyes slid to the man holding her shoulders, covered in grime and filth, the man sighed softly. His chapped lips curved into a soft smile as he rested his large hand on the back of her neck and pulled her close.
For some reason, the embrace comforted the girl, and she rested her tired head on his padded shoulder, letting out a breath of air she hadn’t noticed she was holding in. The man released the back of her neck, retracting from the female to give her some space to sit up properly, his hand now on her upper back as the girl struggled to sit up.
“Come now, I won’t have you sleep the day away…” whispered the deep voice. The female surveyed her surroundings as she sat up fully, her back cracking as she straightens up correctly. The walls around them were dark and wet, the wooden structure made her feel like a useless animal, her mind quickly looking for a way out but finding the rusted lock to be shut tight. She struggled to find her voice as she looked over at the man sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry and utmost care. Lifting her hand, she gave the man a soft pat on his cheek, taking notice of how her knuckles were bruised and battered. Her smile mirrored his as she tried to speak.
“I-I…” She let out a harsh series of coughs that caused the man to frantically look around for the pail of water that was located in the dark corner of the cell. Rushing over to the corner, he pulled the pail over to the female, lifting it to her lips and allowing her to take as much as necessary. Her coughs seized only for the few seconds; she coughed once more for good measure now since her throat was properly clear. Licking her lips to keep them moisturized, the girl smiled again at the man in thanks. Groaning softly, she shut her eyes and lifted her arms over her head, stretching out the tense muscle and arching her back. The bottom half of her body slowly started to awake, as her legs buzzed back to life in an almost uncomfortable way. The female brought her arms down, wrapping them around her clothed legs as she brought them to her chest to give the limbs some sort of release.
Looking down at her body, she took note of the major and minor changes, the bruises the filled her arms and legs that were there without having to look under her patted pants and the layered tunic was the only concern she truly had. Rolling up her sleeves the girl crossed her legs together in a sitting position, her hands on her knees as she watched the man copy her to her left. They both locked eyes and smiled at each other, both thankful to be graced with their presence. She gave the man a soft pat on his shoulder as she looked over to the rusted lock again. “How long…?”
“About two days, since you’ve been out. Apparently, we're off to be sold somewhere else.” The girl gave him a questioning glance as she raised an eyebrow. Somewhere else aye… The girl let out a long sigh as the man next to her nodded, seeming to understand her annoyance. “This time the masters say we will actually be of use this time. More buyers that will actually be in need of slaves.” Taking this under consideration, the female nodded and looked over at the male. “And what do you say, brother? Do you think this place will bring any light to our situation?” Her brother scoffed loudly, earning a grin from his sister as he combed back his dark night hair, the braids coming loose and resulting in only more fly away hairs to cover his tired face. “Sweet sister, there is no light for the situation we are in. You know this just as well as I.” Looking down at his overworked hands; his eyes seemed to have slowly lost its light, knowing that wherever they end up, he could risk losing his younger sister to the trade.
The warmth of a small hand met his cheek, raising his face up so his light hazel eyes met matching golden hued ones. He examined his sister, her long black hair knotted back on either side into a messy braid to keep the hair out of her face, bright hazel eyes that flickered gold in the sunlight much like his own, and a straight small nose with full pink lips that stretched into a gentle smile. She was stunning just as much as he was good looking, and he was very good looking. He turned his head to the side, taking her hand and giving her bruised knuckles a soft kiss as a loud banging interrupted their conversation.
“Get up! Come on you worthless dogs, get up!” The guard had arrived, a man who watched over the slaves and made sure each was well enough fed to be bought and sold to any buyers the masters came across. Short in stature, fat and balding on the top of his head, the older man was nowhere close to graceful when it came to caring for the well-being of the slaves. The only thing the slaves truly appreciated from the man is his lack of violence. He woke them, fed them and was on his way. “Welcome to Kattegat ya’ old mutts! Masters want everyone lined up! Get to it!” The guard banged a large bat against the cages, using extra force for the ones who were asleep and sneered as they struggled to awaken. Stopping in front of the sibling’s cell, his sneer only worsens, showing off his yellow, decaying teeth as his fat hand gripped the club and banged against the cell bars harshly. “Come on you two, up and out.” Though the pair had a mutual distaste for the older man, they nodded obediently and stood, the brother holding his sister's arm to help her stand. The guard quirked his eyebrow as he leaned closer to the bars. “Oi, what’s wrong with the lil one?” asked the guard as he quickly unlocked the cell. Not that older man truly cared for the young woman; he just wanted to know in case he has to report anything to any higher uppers. Her brother looked at the man with a glare, patting her back to make the girl straighten her back. Looking up to her brother and then over to the guard, the two mirrored the same expression of clear annoyance, “None of your concern, old man.”
The guard grumbled under his breath and waddled over to the next cage, his large shadow leaving the cell as his banged against another stall and ordered the same as the rest. Though hated, the guard had only one thing on his mind, take care of his own and get the job done, and nothing diverted that from his duty. It was something that the siblings respected, and by far about the only thing they respected from the old oaf.
The pair made their way out of the cage and followed the leading group of slaves to the deck of the ship. Everyone was packed together in a tight crowd, shoulder to shoulder and stepping on the heel of each other’s foot. There were children and elderly in the center, women closer outward and the men encircled everyone else, being sure to watch for any guards trying to separate the group to get females or children alone. The siblings stuck close to each other, their hands intertwined as the man kept his sister inside the crowd to be safe. As the herd made their way to the deck of the large ship, the children held up the elderly so that they could move at the proper speed without being left be hide.
The dark haired girl felt someone bump against her upper arm, looking down she watched as the older, pale woman take slow deep breathes. Taking the woman’s arm, the young girl forced the elder to look up at her, she watched tired and dark-lidded eyes glance up at her hazel hue. These cold blue orbs reflected pain as the elder struggled to stand.
“What is your name?” The elder gasped as the younger girl took her by her armpits to help the woman stand properly and flung an arm around her hip. By nature, the sick woman wrapped her arm around the girl's neck, The woman opened her mouth to speak but her voice failed to be of use. Sharp hazel eyes glanced down at broken blue orbs, the girl repeated, “Your name, tell me.” The woman watched in awe as the man next to girl looked over at the pair, his golden eyes matching the female in front of herself. ...they’re like gods… The elderly woman felt her heart quicken as she felt the young woman's hand grip her hip tightly, the sunlight peeking out to bring light to the pair. She gazed at the midnight hair that was braided back on each side of the younger females head, the rest of her hair pulled back, flowing like an endless river.
A calm, female voice interrupted the thoughts of the fascinated woman, “You must gain your strength now. If the masters ask for you to present yourself while the auction starts and you can’t even stand properly, you will be pulled back into the cages.” A tremble traveled down the woman's back as she looked down at her bare rough feet, glancing over at the worn out boots the younger of the pair wore. The elder’s main hope was to be looked over and hopefully sold to a farmer's family. Her body couldn’t go through the pain of serving a master strictly as the object of their lust, she still barred the scars on her back when she cried for help. No… not again… Her body, although broken like her soul, found its voice. “ Metta...my name…” The goddess in front of her gave the woman a proud nod, a smile forming on her breathtaking face. “Good woman…” The elder matched her smile with a broken one, a blush forming on her wrinkled face.
The trio arrived at the first floor of the ship, guards standing by with whips and clubs to encourage stragglers to catch up with the rest. As the group descended down the plank leading to the decks of Kattegat the younger woman looked up at the sky. Gray… Sunlight was shielded by heavy clouds and the mountains were covered thick in greenery. Past to rows of variously sized figures stood a large village, where common folk gathered, hands at the ready for the auction to begin. Looking behind her, the girl watched as the waves lapped against the shoreline, the fresh scent of the sea hitting her face with a gentle breeze. Everything was so different here… Much like my dream… Not taking what she thought to heart, the girl noticed a large hand on her lower back, she looked up at her brother.
“Amund…” Hazel eyes met one with slight confusion and the other filled with dread. “You know what I am about to say…” and she did. Every time the pair were at risk of being separated from the trade Amund said the same words each and every time to his younger sister. Shaking her head firmly, the girl followed the crowd of slaves into the port, all lining up into three rows, the trio being the farthest from land. Droplets of the sea splashed against the legs of the siblings, both looking forward as the masters came by row to row, counting the slaves each with a whip in hand. Amund looked down at his sister, giving her a sad smile as the girl detached herself from the elder woman. The younger girl took Metta by her shoulders. “Listen to me, you must stand straight and keep your chin up if you want to be sold to a worker you much look strong.” Metta gave the dark haired girl a weary nod. Finally, the arm Metta had slung around the younger female's neck slipped away, pulling her shoulders up and holding her head high as possible. Glancing down at the shorter and older female, the dark haired female nodded, feeling confident that the elder can now truly stand on her own.
The hand on her lower back moved, pulling her close into an embrace. Taking a quick look around, the siblings held each other close, her arms wrapped around Amund’s neck as she let out a soft sigh. “Amund...if we get separated,” the girl whispered to him as they held each other close, her breath warm against his ear. “I know sweet sister… I love you. I will find you if we get separated.” Gently pulling apart from each other, the pair gave mutual grim smiles.
Tears slowly fell down the pale cheeks of the dark headed sister, looking down as if ashamed to be crying in front of her older brother. Both have been so lucky to be together for so long and not yet to be taken advantage of. Whenever they are sold, both are given to masters that work as smiths, warriors, or chefs, neither having an accident where either could be held against their will or worse. Feeling a familiar rough hand meeting her cheek softly, she leaned against it, her lower lip trembling as lips met her forehead. Kissing her forehead and eyelids, the brother wiped away her tears quickly. “Do not cry, you know better.” Nodding slowly, she opened her eyes to study her brother, as if engraving his face in her memory in case of anything.
Small hazel eyes and a strong, straight nose. He was everything that she was, both were each others’ backbone. The same lips though his were thinner, the only major difference in their faces was the tattoos that decorate the left side of his shaved head. She could still hear the groaning of her brother as their father laughed at the young man, quoting about how he was so confident that the tattoos wouldn't hurt simply because father never complained about any pain. They both look so much alike. The pain in her heart began to spread, her lungs becoming tight as her eyes slid past his strong chin covered by a short beard and down to his neck. Under the shadow of his beard laid the same necklace that their mother wore, a small wooden pendant with the carvings of Sól and Máni, the sun, and the moon. Amund looked down at his sister, a dispiriting smile formed as he recalled the times he made fun of her height, though she was taller than most women. Releasing his sister momentarily, Amund pulled the necklace from around his neck and slowly slipped it over her slender one. A soft cry left her lips, refusing to look at her brother but knowing that trying to stop him would be useless. The necklace should be passed down, from family member to family member. “If anything happens-” “I know...” Neither spoke, both having nothing to say and knowing that if they did share another moment together, they could be caught by one of the masters for interacting while deals were being made.
Amund looked forward, watching as one of the masters, decorated in fine bright silk and a heavy headscarf around his small head, ventured closer to the pair. He stood straight, eyes forward and lightly pinching the back of his sister’s hand to do the same. The dark haired woman released her bottom lip, now red with the rush of blood that accumulated over the short amount of time. Copying her brother’s stance, hazel orbs stared half-lidded at the head in front of her, not giving anyone the chance to notice the red rim around the corners of her eyes.
Next to the master stood a tall pale goddess, eyes bright and blue, burning with knowledge that neither of the siblings could possess. Covered in rich wolf and fox furs and a long slimming maroon dress with decorative vines which were beautifully stitched, her short light brown hair was pulled back with two simple braids resting on the crown of her head. As the master and mysterious woman inched closer to the dark-haired siblings a long howl of the wind blew against their skin. The fresh scent of the sea attacked the females nostrils yet again as she willed her eyes to concentrate on the back of the older man in front of her. The soft crows of a raven filled her ears, as soft footsteps inched closer. Time seemed to have slowed, the number of stitches she was counting on the back of the shirt the older stranger in front of her wore no longer seemed to interest her. The young woman’s eyes drifted to the tall beauty. Hazel met blue, and in an instant, the world seemed to have stopped.
Gray clouds shifted slowly, churning and toppling over one another as the wind slowly started to pick up. The sea hummed against the shores of Kattegat as if it were pleased by the meeting of the two women. Aslaug listened carefully to the omens around her, surveying the slave in front of her with keen interest. “And what of this one...what is her price?” Resting a pale, slender hand on the neck of the slave, her fingers grazed against a carved necklace. The queen of Kattegat studied for small facial expressions on the woman in front of her if there were any. Emotionless, strong and proud hazel eyes held their gaze as if the slave were analyzing her as well.
“This one, well… she is one of our best. A strong worker and skilled in combat yet...not the best at obeying.” Aslaug noticed the hiss at the end of his sentence, breaking eye contact, she glared down at the smaller man. “She will do well for my house, bring her.” Just before Aslaug completely turned to the next slave in line she saw it. A soft hiccup in the female slave left her mouth as she snapped her neck to the man on her left. Aslaug looked at the man. There is two of them? Yet the shores gave no signal, the ravens flew past the port and back in the wild, and the clouds finally rested. Looking back and forth between the pair she studied their eyes. Both had wild spirits, holding something chained within their souls that were begging to be released.
Suddenly, two long and deep howls ripped through the air. A deep shiver traveled down Aslaug’s spine, images filled her head. Two warriors, drenched in blood and shirtless holding bloodied axes and broken shields on a field covered in gore filled her thoughts. One was a man, a muscled back with slashes carved into his skin, the man's front depicting a large black wolf, swallowing the god, Máni. Skoll… Next to the man stood a beautiful dark haired woman, her back inked with the same evil wolf, devouring the sun goddess Sól. Hati… Her left finger barred a ring, given to her by a wonderful lover who sits in a battered, bloodied chariot. Who the man in the chariot is...she could not tell. Yet, once the dark haired girl turned her head to the unknown man, a smile on her face of caring and golden eyes filled with love, the ones that stared back at her were completely and utterly devoted to the woman. Blue...they shine blue...like Ragnar.
With a soft shake on her lower arm, Aslaug slowly came back to Kattegat, standing immobile for only a good fifteen seconds before the queen gave a quiet hiss, her head pounding due to her prolonged vision. Looking at the hand on her forearm, blue orbs traveled the muscular limb to meet a young man, both sides of his head shaved and a long thick braid down the middle, a large tattoo on the left side of his temple which depicted a large wolf. Aslaug smiled softly, looking up at the taller man as her hand patted his rough fingers, indicating that she was able to stand. Releasing the woman, concern lingered carefully as he and his sister stood straight, their eyes forward and face plain.
Smirking at their warrior like actions, the Queen looked down at the slave owner, her eyes now cold. “Both of them. I will take the boy and girl.” Turning to her right, a servant girl, weak in frame and mind gave the queen a pouch filled with gold, her eyes downcast. Greedy eyes watched frantically as the queen counted out the gold. “Twelve a piece I assume.” bright blue eyes slid over to the sweating male, his desire clear as day as she slowly counted the pieces of coin in her hand. “F-Fourteen for...ah...each?” Taking off his oversized headscarf, the greedy owner ran his dirty fingers through his thinning gray hair. Aslaug watched as his fat, black tongue ran across his lack of teeth. “We had an agreement, twelve for both. Take it or leave my ports.” Snapping his neck up at the woman, a snarl formed on his chapped lips yet the queen looked unafraid, her mind silently begging him to say something improper.
Quietly watching the interaction from them, the siblings stood dangerously still, Amund at the ready to block the woman if his owner lost his head and his sister ready to pull the queen back to protect her from the brawl. Though there was no need, succumbing to the queen, the master looked down at his battered and holey shoes. “Twelve… we can have them prepared for you at the ready before nightfall.” “There is no need,” Aslaug threw the pouch against the male's chest and turned to the siblings, her smile kind but her eyes focused as if she had some sort of initiative by the end of this bargain. “Both of you follow me, I will appoint you to the servants of the great hall under the roof of Ragnar Lothbrok, the king of Kattegat. I am his wife, Aslaug.” Both of the siblings glanced at one another, neither daring to say a word. Amund was the first to move, kneeling down in front of the queen, his eyes to the floor, his sister followed quickly in the same position after. “We promise to do our best to serve you, my queen,” Amund spoke softly with his deep voice, something Aslaug did not expect from someone that looked so robust. Smiling down at her newly acquired servants, she gave both a pat on their shoulders, signaling for them to stand.
“Come, you must rest for tomorrow.” Leading the way, Aslaug walked from the row of slaves, finally allowing farmers and smiths to take a look for a pair of extra hands. Before following her brother and new master, the dark haired girl turned to the older woman, her hazel eyes soft as she leaned down, giving the woman a soft kiss on her forehead. Metta looked up at the girl, her eyes filled with tears but refused to let them free. Letting out a soft chuckle, the girl laid her hands on the tired woman's shoulders. “Why do you cry, my beautiful woman?” Metta let out a broken laugh that was interrupted with a hiccup. “It has been so long...since someone asked me my name...since...someone cared…” The girl nodded softly, pulling the old woman close and hugging her tight. A rush of tears fell down the woman's cheek as she sobbed quietly. “Listen to me,” the girl leaned down to the elder, taking the wrinkled face in her hands, “You are strong, stronger than I will ever be.” Wiping away tears with her thumb, she continued. “Stay strong, Metta. You must. The gods will always watch over you. They will commemorate you for your strength.”
From afar, Aslaug watch alongside Amund, her heart strings pulling roughly against her lungs. “Is she always this kind?” Amund nodded, his hazel eyes soft as he watched the scene, “My sister has a knack for things such as cripples, bastards, and broken things. She cares for all equally.” Looking up at the man, she smiled softly. These two are growing on me already. Shaking the thought away, Aslaug listened in the slave's conversation carefully.
Metta finally pulled away, her eyes red and puffy, her nose dripping with mucus. Yet, the young girl did not steer away from the old woman, pulling her sleeve up to cover her hand, the girl wiped away her tears, her mucus. “What is your name young girl?” asked Metta softly, slightly ashamed for not asking before, despite the pain she was feeling in their first encounter. Giving the woman a kind smile, she stood up fully, towering over the elder as she turned her eyes to the ground as if she was lost in memory. My name… The name that willed me out of my paradise, the name that was given to me by a dying mother right before she bore me.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: editing the publication I have done wrong!
“…and you two, right now to the bath!”
You heard your angry husband’s voice from the kitchen. And the laughs of your little ones, running to the bath as he told them to do, but laughing as they always did when they had done something wrong. You were waiting for a mess, but not THAT mess: Ivar was covered in mud and branches with dry leaves were spread all over his clothes.
He was so pissed off, but even then, his frowned face took a laugh from you too.
“Don’t laugh! This is not fun!” he complained, annoyed. And you came near him, starting to take the branches and dry leaves from his hair.
“What happened to you?” you asked, trying to hold your laugh to not to piss him off even more.
“The kids, they ambushed me when I was trying to catch them to bring them home to the dinner! I ended up with the pigs at the damn sty and had to drag myself all the way here since I lost my crutch in that fucking mud” he complained furiously and you ignored the mud in his face, kissing his lips and looking at him.
“I’ll punish them both: tomorrow they’ll clean the front and the backyard. And I’ll prepare a warm bath for you. I can put them on their beds and take this bath with you, what do you think? Things are better this way, my king?” you said, with that doughy voice you used to make him understand there would be more than a bath for him tonight.
“Don’t make me wait too much…” he answered, kinda hiding the curve on the corner of his lips.
He wasn’t mad anymore, you knew that. He couldn’t be mad with a promise like yours…
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