The past couple days I've been kind of down in the dumps and my back is killing me again so I'm foregoing all responsibilities and indulging in lots of mush and kisses scribbles to make myself feel better.
Note: I’m gonna admit something...I got lazy here. Not with the content, I like how it turned out, but the song for this chapter is NOT mine. I normally come up with my own songs for these fics but its very late atm and I’m running on E right now so I had to substitute. I took these lyrics from my favorite horror show. The song is called The Unquiet Grave and its featured in Penny Dreadful season 2, I highly recommend the show and listening to the song itself. Cheers! xo
"Can you not hear?" Ivar scoffed. His expression turned from amused to bittered when you failed to act.
"I have tasks to finish, Ivar," you mumbled. "If I'm not done with them by tonight..."
"Do you want to make me angry?" he growled lowly. You sputtered for something to say and shook your head carefully slow.
"The Queen would-"
"Would you rather she heard of one of her slave girls being disobedient to a prince?"
With your slumping shoulders Ivar gave a wolfish smile and sat back victoriously. "Now, the dress."
You swallowed and stood up, turning around as to not face him. "Fine, but I must go back to the kitchen soon. Your wrath isn't as frightening as Gaerta with a spoon."
This made him chuckle. You sighed and untied your dress; nudity hardly affected you. Where you last lived, women commonly did not wear shirts. But that was a place far from here...
Your woolen dress slipped and pooled along your elbows and you blushed generously. Whenever you were uncomfortable or troubled, you hummed to buy yourself time. It calmed you and refocused your mind. Ivar's conniving grin shifted, turning into something of awe and...something else. Nervousness? You were very pretty to him...and he found nothing pretty.
You turned to look at the silent Ivar. Covering yourself still you could spare a smile. Despite being able to follow orders and not being ashamed of any part of yourself, you were shy. Men and women alike had seen you without a dress before, but something about Ivar asking to see, and being alone here with him...this was different.
"You really are beautiful Jøra..." Ivar said timidly. Your blushed burned again.
"What would you like me to sing?" you asked, attempting to suppress a grin when Ivar blinked a few times. He'd forgotten what he asked of you.
"U-um..."
You smiled a little and let down your arms to rest along your stomach, giving him a full few of your chest. Ivar lifted a hand as he remained in his seat and started biting his nails. It made you giggle.
"What?!"
"You are nervous," you declared softly.
"I am not," he growled. "I am a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, I am not afraid of-"
"I didn't say you were afraid Ivar," you corrected, walking closer to him. His face started turning red too, and by the time you were close enough to hover over his head, your hair and his face shared the same color of red. "I said you are nervous. It is okay...so am I."
"Why would you be?" he scoffed. "Look at you..."
You chuckled at the obviousness of this man...this son of Ragnar who sought to take you. Despite your palms being slightly sweaty, you reached out to brush Ivar's hair through your fingers. Nails tapped against his braid along the back of his head and you had to still your raking motion, but Ivar's shut eyes told you he enjoyed that. You began to hum, and sing an ominous but lovely hymn.
My breast is cold as clay,
My breath is earthly strong;
And if you kiss my cold clay lips,
Your days they won't be long.
How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart.
Where we were wont to walk,
The fairest flower that e'er I saw,
Has withered to a stalk...
Ivar watched you with a slightly slack jaw, reaching out with little hesitation to run a finger over your cheek. Wiping a tear that wasn't there...
His finger pads were rough and hotter than the air, descending your neck and collarbone. They didn't grip or bruise like you'd expected from Ivar's touch. He was gentle. Fingers brushed against one of your rosy nipples and you shivered. He knew how to use such instruments well...his middle finger ran along a scar on your left hip, just above the bone where your dress barely held to your body.
"What is this?" he asked softly. You forgot where you were a moment before clearing your throat.
"Oh...when I stayed in Cyrene as a slave, I was bitten by a snake in the night."
"A snake?" Ivar asked suspiciously. Your face turned red; these scars embarrassed you. Ivar gave the dotted skin a kiss to soothe your worry. His kisses traveled to your navel as you watched him, knees growing weaker...
"I-Ivar...what are you doing?" you asked curiously. He just chuckled and ignored your question, giving your hip crease a kiss before looking up.
“Keep singing little songbird...I’m not done.”
You sighed and rolled your eyes across the floor. What to sing...his lips were so warm on your dampening skin...what to sing...fingers danced across your leg until his thumb came up to rub slowly between your folds. Your heart nearly stopped as his thumb was replaced by his middle finger taunting your petals. Ivar sighed with a devious smile, enjoying how you started rocking on his fingers...
"Ivar!"
That was a woman's voice, and delicate knocking at the bedroom door. Queen Aslaug...
You quickly tucked your breasts away into your draping dress and gathered yourself. Ivar reached out to hold your chin delicately; his gentleness was the only reason you did not rip away from his grip to run.
"Go through the window. And save that little flower for me...I can't have my brothers taking a bite out of you before I've even had a taste."
You never jumped out of a window before. Luckily the ground was only an inch or two away when you hopped out, but you wanted so badly to go back...
Wandering the marketplace was a maze. You certainly must've looked out of place with your lack of items to carry, no children, not even a cloak. Just some girl in a dress, wandering. You decided to round the Great Hall to get back inside the other way.
Being the center of attention to the sons of Ragnar was something you resisted to go to your head. You failed in private, but you never bragged or excused yourself from your duties. You were a slave. You remembered what Myrun told you...if Ubbe couldn't free her, why should Aslaug let you be free?
Perhaps...because Ivar said so.
You pondered how much sway the youngest son of Ragnar had over his mother queen when a force knocked you back. The mud was slippery this time of year. You were lucky the stranger hadn't fallen in, especially since you stood just outside the Great Hall where everyone would see. Stumbling but holding your ground as to not fall, you have a dazed blink and held up your hands.
"I'm so sorry! I was not looking..."
"Neither was I," a large man chuckled down at you. A shadow cast over your head as his hands steadied your arms on both sides. "And to think I'd miss all that red hair...what is your name?"
"Jøra," you squeaked. He was so tall, with such long hair that braided messily yet wonderfully down his head. He wore grey and white furs of different animals. Perhaps he was a hunter...but his near braid worthy facial hair suggested he was more of a wanderer. His blonde hair and blue eyes told you he was related to Ubbe perhaps...then it clicked.
"I am-"
"Bjorn," you said quietly. "You are Bjorn Ironside."
Hi I just want everyone to know that this week I got hired as a pastry baker which has been an absolute dream gig for me for so many years and I’m so excited and look mad cute in an apron and chunky clogs so there’s that
Jaina Solo being so committed to her friends that she'd die for them but also legit terrified of living through hard times and seeing what comes afterwards??? Tbh hella relatable
