Summary: After being pushed by Ivar and the rest of his brothers, Hvitserk finally speaks to the girl he'd been admiring for months, but an unwelcome interruption breaks the conversation before he can get more than her name.
Word Count: 1.1k
The great hall was alive with chatter, but Hvitserk didn't may it any mind. His attention was stuck across the room...on her.
"You are staring again, brother," Ubbe commented gruffly, sipping his ale.
Hvitserk grinned, his eyes not leaving her figure. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Ubbe?"
With a grunt, Ubbe returned to his meal and ignored his younger brother. A few minutes later, Ivar and Sigurd joined them, and all it took was an annoyed glance from Ubbe to cue them in on the situation.
"I don't know about you, Hvitserk," Ivar said, following his gaze to the girl. "But I think I will go talk to her."
Hvitserk finally tore his eyes from her, his lip twitching as he glared at his brother. "You will not, Ivar."
"And who will stop me?" he shrugged. "If you do not wish to speak to her, why can't I?"
Sigurd chuckled at Hvitserk's pouting expression but quickly hid it behind his cup of ale when his older brother's scowl turned to him. He knew they were right, of course, but it was easier to stare from a distance and admire...he didn't even know her name.
He was going to learn it tonight, he told himself as he rose from the table with a grunt. Downing the rest of his almost full cup, Hvitserk wiped his mouth and set off across the room.
Noticing the commotion from her throne, Auslaug watched Hvitserk cross the hall before shooting her oldest son a raised brow. Ubbe did nothing but chuckle and shrug back at his mother. If he was being honest, he was just happy Hvitserk was doing something about his crush. It had been months since the girl first arrived in Kattegat. He'd grown tired of Hvitserk's longing expressions and endless comments about the poor girl he was clearly infatuated with. They ribbed him endlessly about talking to her, but he remained in his seat each time, choosing to look instead of speak.
Hvitserk wove through the crowded hall with more confidence than he felt, the warm buzz of ale bolstering his courage. He thanked the gods he wasn't doing this sober because he probably would still be sitting beside Ubbe, watching her from afar. He ignored the knowing glances from his brothers at the table, especially Ivar, who wore a smirk as wide as the fjord before Kattegat.
Her back was to him, her (y/h/c) hair falling over her shoulders as she laughed at something one of the women beside her had said. Hvitserk couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling his nerves flicker in anticipation.
When Hvitserk reached the empty seat beside her, he hesitated briefly before pulling it out and plopping down in it with forced casualness.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, though it was clear he’d already decided to stay.
She glanced at him, her (y/e/c) eyes flickering with curiosity. “It would seem you’ve already made the decision, Hvitserk.”
Her voice was steady but amused, and the way she said his name...like it wasn’t the first time she’d noticed him...sent a spark of surprise through his chest. Hvitserk leaned back in his chair and quickly glanced over his shoulder at his brothers, trying to mask his excitement with a grin.
“Well, I thought it was about time we spoke,” he said, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “You’ve been in Kattegat for a while now, yet we haven’t been properly introduced.”
She raised a brow, clearly skeptical. “And whose fault is that?”
Hvitserk chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "Fair enough. I guess I could've come over sooner, but...better late than never, yes?"
“You have an interesting way of making first impressions, Ragnarsson,” she replied with a playful glint in her eye. “But I’ll allow it. I’m (y/n).”
Hvitserk’s grin widened. “(Y/n),” he repeated, testing her name out, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. “It suits you.”
“And what exactly have I done to capture the attention of one of the great Ragnar Lothbrok’s sons?” she asked, her head tilted slightly as she studied him.
"You haven't done anything," he said, leaning closer, his grin growing into a cocky smirk. "It's hard to ignore someone who could make even the gods stop and stare."
Heat rushed to (y/n)'s face, and she laughed softly, looking away from his gaze. She knew he was handsome from a distance, but up close...with those eyes and that smirk...she felt herself melting.
She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud voice from behind her beat her to it prompting her name. "Do not let him fool you..."
(Y/n) turned around in her chair to look at the man, but her eyes fell to the ground...or rather who crawled on the ground. "(Y/n)."
Hvitserk groaned audibly, though he didn't look at his brother. "Not now, Ivar."
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Ivar said, smirking as he shakily used Hvitserk's chair to push himself to his feet. He looked between the two of them with a mischievous grin. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s been staring at you like a lost pup for months.”
Leave it to Ivar to ruin a perfectly good conversation. Hvitserk could've strangled him right there.
“Ivar!” Hvitserk snapped, his face flushing as laughter erupted from the nearby tables.
(Y/n) forced herself to regain composure, tilting her head once again as she met his gaze. Her voice came out teasing, though the nervousness beneath was evident. “Is that true, Hvitserk?”
He sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. “I suppose I have been...admiring you. From a distance,” he admitted sheepishly, shooting a pointed glare at Ivar.
“Well, next time, don’t wait so long to speak to me,” she replied with a smile, unable to hide a hint of affection now.
Hvitserk blinked for a moment, stunned. “Next time?”
She didn't answer and instead rose to her feet, leaving him sitting there as she walked toward the doors. Before disappearing into the cold night, she sent him one last smile.
Ivar's laughter followed her departure, his grin as sharp as ever "You're hopeless, poor Hvitserk."
Hvitserk watched her go, a slow grin spreading across his face despite himself. “Maybe. But at least she wants there to be a next time.”
"She will see she made a mistake, brother...once she gets to know you."
His eyes cut over to Ivar, who stared back with raised brows. In one movement, Hvitserk slid his chair back and stood, making Ivar lose balance and flop onto the hard floor with a loud thud.
"Oh no," Hvitserk tutted, staring at his wheezing form with a smirk. he didn't even try to hide it. "You must be careful, little brother."
A/N: message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3
↳ Summary. Hvitserk is kind of in love with his brother’s slave.
↳ Word count. 3.3K.
↳ Warnings. Violence (a random man tries to force stuff but failed, it is not detailed), death (none of the main characters), smut.
↳ Note. Let’s flip things around as they’re in the show with Ivar being obsessed with a slave that is close with his brothers. Also, this is my first time writing smut, sorry if it’s bad (i know it is).
He thinks he’s doing amazing at hiding his feelings, for he doesn’t want to give too much information on it so nobody takes it from him, but if there’s one thing everyone in Kattegat knows is how in love Prince Hvitserk is with you, Ivar’s personal slave.
From what he knows, you haven’t even had sex with his little brother and Ivar actually treats you well, which is already confusing for Hvitserk, and everybody. The first thing that caught his attention from you was the way you treat his brother and the way Ivar never seems to get angry at you, it’s almost as if you were Floki, the person that Ivar adores.
“You need a warm bath,” You murmur to Ivar when all the brothers are sitting in the great hall. You were doing your respective chores but always keeping an eye on your prince, and Hvitserk would always silently wish that he was the center of your attention instead.
“I don’t,” Ivar snarls rolling his eyes and all the slaves around gasp when you softly smack his shoulder.
“Yes you do, I haven’t finished cleaning all the tables and you have made more faces than ever,” You tell him, your tone not disrespectful but not trembling like every other slave that talks to Ivar. “It’s getting cold, your legs are hurting. I can see it.”
“It always surprises me how you never seem to get angry at her,” Ubbe says, smiling at you. “Knowing that you’re always angry.”
“Because she never treated me differently ever since she was brought here,” Ivar says, taking his crutches from you. “She takes care of me and my legs without making me feel like a fucking hindrance.”
As soon as you put one of Ivar’s arms around you Hvitserk jumps from his seat.
“I’ll help you,” He says to Ivar and the man in question just chuckle.
For months Hvitserk has settled with being close to you like that. He would offer to help Ivar to do his things knowing that you would be following not so far behind.
“Also, she is my pride,” Ivar tells Ubbe when you are almost at the door and Hvitserk looks at his feet. “Knowing that all my brothers want what's mine.”
Hvitserk doesn’t say anything and just keeps helping his brother.
It’s not Ivar that stops Hvitserk from seducing you, it’s you. You don’t talk to the others like you do with your prince, you don’t serve them unless there are not slaves around and you have to, you don’t even look interested in them and as much as he wants you, Ubbe has taught him that first, you need to want him in order to make you his.
“Give me a moment, my prince, I need to heat the water,” You murmur to Ivar who takes his arm from around you.
When you’re out of their sight Ivar looks at his brother with a teasing smile.
“When are you going to stop following my slave around, mhm?” He asks with a teasing tone and Hvitserk sighs. “Are you not tired of pretending that you want to help me just to be close to her?”
“When did you find out?” Hvitserk whispers and Ivar laughs.
“The day mother made her my personal slave,” He answers and his brother sucks a breath. “Everybody knows, just so you know.”
“W-what?” Hvitserk tries to distract himself by moving the tub for his brother while Ivar is sitting on a chair.
“What? You thought nobody knew? She is my slave, of course, I’m going to be aware of how other men look at her, especially if their eyes are full of lust.” He shrugs.
“Have you…?”
“No, I haven’t had sex with her,” Ivar answers the question that has been eating his brother alive and decides to help him a little more. “I decided I would never force myself on her, for she’s the only one that treats me like a human being, but if you want my advice, you will never have her if you don’t talk to her.”
“I thought she was yours.” Hvitserk says and Ivar nods.
“Oh, she is, but what kind of prince would I be if I don’t let my slave enjoy herself?” He hums and points a finger at his brother. “As long as you don’t stop her from coming to me.”
“I would never,” Hvitserk says with a big smile and a hand on his heart, happy that he has his brother’s kind of approval.
Ivar suddenly looks behind his brother and smiles and that’s all he needs to know that you’re back, so he turns around and helps you with the water, getting not more than a quick bow from you, he looks at Ivar who just smiles and shrug as if he wants to say ‘I already told you.’
“Why aren’t you married?” Ivar suddenly asks you and Hvitserks mentally thanks his brother for helping him.
“Are you joking?” You ask him while taking his clothes off and he dramatically gasps.
“Why would I be joking, Y/N?” Ivar says with a teasing smirk and you chuckle.
Y/N. Hvitserk adores that name and the way it rolls out of his tongue, he wishes nothing more than to moan it right onto your mouth while you ride him.
“Tell me my prince, who wants to marry a slave? And not any slave, but the slave of the scariest prince, uhm? If I had a chance it vanished the moment you said that my love interest has to ask for your permission” You say but the smile in your face shows that you’re not bitter about it. To you, it’s actually a blessing not having to worry about bad people around you since they’re scared of your prince. It’s not like marriage has been on your mind since you got sold around so much before finding this kind of stability in Kattegat.
Ivar was smiling proudly.
“Of course, I can’t hand you to a nobody, you are in charge of me,” He says and you nod, he hums. “But then, what about an earl? Or another prince? Someone who’s my equal would not be so scared to approach you.”
“Oh, that’s true, now tell me, what earl, prince, or king would even look my way? I’m a slave,” You laugh.
“Me,” Hvitserk says and Ivar’s smirk turns into a full smile. “I certainly have looked your way too many times.”
You stay there, with your hands in the water that were massaging Ivar’s legs freeze on the spot, looking at Hvitserk speechless. You look at Ivar for confirmation and he smiles.
“That’s correct.”
You stay silent again, and after some torturing minutes, you look between the brothers.
“You need me to satisfy—?”
“No,” Ivar interrupts you with a harsh tone, but you don’t seem scared. “You will not be a toy for my brothers.”
“I don’t understand then,” You say and look at Hvitserk, who smiles at you.
“I want you to be my woman, that is,” He says and you gasp, making Ivar chuckle. “I have talked to Ivar so I wouldn’t get killed for even wishing that.”
“And you said yes?!” You ask Ivar, he nods and you scream from happiness and jump on him to hug him, not caring that your dress was getting wet or that you just interrupted the prince’s bath.
In all the months that you were in Kattegat not once had Hvitserk seen you laughing like that, or even being affectionate towards someone, and on top of that he has never seen Ivar so comfortable around a woman that wasn’t their mother, and more so with him currently being naked and his legs being on display.
“But, why?” You ask, and they both look at you, understanding that you were asking both of them.
“If you marry an earl from another land then they would take you away from me, it’s in my best interests that you marry one of my brothers so you remain here, in Kattegat,” Ivar explains and you laugh sitting back and caressing his head. You look at Hvitserk who just gives you a smirk.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He explains and you giggle. “I like you, I want to make you my wife.”
“I don’t know you, my prince.” You say, your smile not flattering and he shrugs.
“Now you will.” He smiles, standing up and leaving you and your prince alone.
“You like him?” Ivar asks you when you two are alone, and you hum.
“He caught my attention a long time ago, I just didn’t entertain the thought,” You murmur and he looks at you with a small smile.
“Entertain it now.”
The next time you see Hvitserk is at the feast that queen Aslaug throws in honor of the great number of merchants and travelers that have come to Kattegat. This time, instead of just letting you ignore him, he stops you when you walk near him.
“Hello, Y/N.” He says. “Are you going to still ignore me?”
You smile at him apologetically and point at the room.
“I’m sorry, my prince, since there are so many people I have to help the others, not just prince Ivar, so I am busier than on others' feasts.” You explain to him and he hums.
“So that’s the reason why Ivar looks angry today after months,” He says and you laugh. “And by the way, you look amazing.”
You smile and give him a little show by turning around and showing him your dress, allowing him to look you up and down slowly, his stare lingering a little bit in your cleavage.
“Ivar gave me this dress as a gift and wished for me to wear it tonight so I did.” You say and he hums, his hand coming to your small back and leaning to talk right in your ear so no one could hear you.
“Don’t let no man but me take it off, yeah?” He whispers and you hum, moving till your lips are on his ear.
“Then make sure to not let me lose, my prince.”
And just like that, you move, going back to work as if you didn’t just give him the biggest boner he’s ever had.
And he did as you say, watching you like a hawk the whole night, not caring when you look in his direction and make movements with your hands to tell him to stop, he would just shrug and grab his cock over his pants for you to see and you would giggle and keep on your tasks.
“You shouldn’t drink more ale, otherwise the medicine I make for your legs is not going to have the effect,” You whisper in Ivar’s ear.
“If you bring me my medicine I’ll drink it now, but you have to promise me not to wake me up tomorrow so early to drink it.” He says with feigned anger, you nod.
“Deal.” You clap and turn around, walking to the kitchen.
You don’t have time to make it into the kitchen when you’re yanked and trapped between a stranger and the wall.
“W-who?!” You try to move.
Unknown to you, another man has been watching you too and was misunderstanding all your flirting with the prince, thinking you were just offering yourself to anybody instead.
“Come on, slave, satisfy me right now,” The man was trying to scrunch up your dress but you constantly elbowing him was making it difficult.
“Let me go! Let me go right now!” You scream, doing everything you can to not let his hand get under your dress.
Tired of your fidgeting the man throws you to the ground and that’s the moment Hvitserk grabs the man by the hair and pulls him back.
“What do you think you’re doing with my woman?” He grunts.
Ivar comes crawling as fast as he can and you crawl to him till you are close enough to let him wrap you in his arms, you’re trembling and Ivar has murder on his mind. Hvitserk looks worse than Ivar.
“W-what? No! It’s a slave, I was messing with a slave—,” The man tries to explain himself but is interrupted.
“MY slave.” “–MY woman,” The brothers say in unison and the color drains from the man’s face.
“No, no, no, my lords, i-i didn’t know, please forgive—,”
Even Ivar is impressed when he sees the tip of Hvitserk sword’s coming out of the man’s stomach, meaning his brother has just stabbed the man with no more questions to ask.
“Next time you better choose right.” Hvitserk grunts, pushing the man and watching the pool of blood coming from under him. He cleans his sword with the dead man’s clothes and only then looks at you.
He curses when he sees you with tears in your eyes and gripping Ivar’s clothes as if you’re afraid that he’s going to disappear. Hvitserk gets close and takes you in his arms, nodding to Ivar to let him know that he has you, and walks out of the great hall.
“I can walk,” You whisper.
“I know.” He murmurs.
You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, letting him take you wherever he wants. He takes you to your home which is not so far from the great hall since Ivar wants you as close as he can get you. That’s the reason why you have your own house too, so he could come whenever he wants and not be seen as a monster by the other slaves.
“We are here,” He puts you down but you don’t move around, instead putting your hands on his chest and looking at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Thank you for protecting me, for killing for me,” You whisper, he put his hands on top of yours noticing that your trembling it’s almost gone.
“I would do that and more for you, are you hurt?” You shake your head without looking away and he sighs, leaning a little. “I said, don’t look at me like that.”
“Why?” You ask and his hands slowly slide from your hands to your shoulders and then all the way down until they stop at the small of your back.
“Because I will have a hard time controlling myself,” He whispers, leaning a little more. “I told you to not let another man but me take that dress off, you thought I wouldn’t follow through on that?”
“I was hoping for you to follow—,”
He crashes his lips with yours and you have to hold onto his arms to not fall from the force, but you kiss him back right away. He was devouring your mouth, working all that pent-up lust out of his body.
He bends a little to put his hand on the back of your knees and pull you up, forcing you to surround his waist with your legs, trapping him. He walks to the table there and place you on top, his lips going from your mouth to your neck.
He leans back and gives you a quick kiss before starting with your dress, undoing the front while you look at his face attentively.
“You’re gorgeous,” You whisper and he giggles but sucks a breath when he softly pulls down your dress, watching your upper half naked and ready for him.
“You’re the gorgeous one, my lady,” He whispers, and finishes taking the whole dress down your legs and then positions himself between them, looking down at your naked body with desire. “All this is mine?”
You shrug and he raises his eyebrows at your bratty attitude, loving it.
He returns to your neck and lick, bite, and mark every corner, letting a trail of kisses until he’s in front of your breast, he takes one in one hand and the other in his mouth, sucking, licking, and biting softly your nipple, making you let out a loud moan, he does the same to the other and you have to nail down his forearms to control your noises.
“Don’t have to hold back,” He mumbles, his voice sounding muffled. “Scream as much as you want.”
You tug at his clothes.
“I don’t want you in these.” You whine, and he stands up and starts taking everything off like it was on fire, just to then take you in his arms again and throw you on your bed.
He freezes when you hold yourself on your elbows and open your legs to him, giving him a clear view of all your glory. He falls on his knees and locks yours with his arms before diving right into your center, giving you a long lick without a warning.
“O-Ohh” You whine, your hand flying to his hair and gripping it.
He devours you like you’re what he needs to be kept alive, he doesn’t budge when you try to move his head when it’s getting too much, instead pinching your nipples as a punishment when you try to take your cunt away from him.
“I-I can’t,” You cry out, your legs shaking. “Hvitserk, p-please.”
He just hums with satisfaction and keeps going and it is when you look down that you find him already looking at you with adoration that you explode, coming right onto his mouth and crying his name so loud that you’re certain you were heard at least three houses away from where you are.
When he stands on his knees you’re trying to catch your breath, with a hand on your chest and another on your mouth.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” He whispers and you do it, he smiles. “You okay?”
“Nobody has ever done it so… vigorously,” You sob.
“You taste amazing,” He whispers as an explanation while getting on top of you and between your leg, he shrugs smugly. “Perhaps you haven’t been with a man that wants you as much as I do.”
You moan at his words and he takes his cock in his hand, coating it in your juices and his saliva, sighing at the feeling. When his tip is at your entrance he stops, just touching your clit with his tip.
“Please, I want you inside,” You beg and he ignores your pleas, you nail down his arm. “Hvitserk, please.”
“I’m going to ask you again, sweet Y/N,” He murmurs, kissing your lips softly. “All this is mine?”
“Y-Yes, it’s all yours, I am y-yours…. Oh, fuck,” You moan loudly when he thrust softly, going so slow that tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes. Good gods, he feels amazing inside of you. “S-so full.”
“You’re perfect, you feel perfect,” He moans in your ear making you tremble, keeping his thrusts slow and deep. “I’m losing my mind.”
“Yeah?” You say in a rushed voice, and he looks at you. “Please do, lose your mind and fuck me good, Hvitserk.”
Oh, what have you done?
He pulls out and flips you around on all four just to thrust again, hard, you scream and in response, he smacks your ass, you bring your hand back to try to slow him down but he just bends it at the elbow and traps it between your small back and his hand, showing you no mercy.
“Still mine?” He asks with a smug smile, oh how he adores the sounds you were making and how out of it you look.
“Yours, yours, just yours” You were chanting, bringing your other hand back to slow him down and getting it trapped too. You cry and sob and he moans.
“Give it to me, come on, give me what I want,” He grunts, he smacks your ass. “Give it to me.”
And in tune with his order, you scream, your vision going blank and your body shaking so much that he has to pin you down. He thrust three more times before shooting his seed inside you with a loud moan.
Instead of just pushing you around, as you are used, he pulls out and leans to let a path of wet kisses from your small back to your shoulder, he gives you one last kiss on the side of your head.
In court, there was a Christian man named Athelstan that always looked sad. In his face lingered the expression of someone that has seen a lot during his lifetime, and he was not that old. Mostly, he tended to keep to himself in social gatherings, but he seemed rather close to King Alfred. Even though back then I was fairly new to the King’s villa, I heard he had not been there long either. Perhaps it was the desire to meet someone like myself, someone who was also lost in the vastness of court and the emptiness of etiquette. Or maybe there was just something in his dark eyes that attracted me to him. I am not sure what it was, nor do I care, but it was that sentiment there that lured me to speak to him.
pairings: hvitserk x reader, dad!hvitserk x daughter!ofc
warnings: nsfw! so +18. nothing too wild, he gets a bit jealous, semi-public touching, sex, oral sex. loads of cursing.
a/n: so i am going through a phase. look. i don't know. bear with me. to the people who still read the shit i write, thank you soooooo v much. and yeah, this blog is officially a mess. there's also more ubbe coming so welp, my viking fever is getting intense. you also can read this story on my ao3 profile :)
word count: 4,3k+
Ever since you met him, green has become your favourite colour. You could spend days and days just staring at those eyes, that shimmered with amusement whenever he caught you looking. Today, however, the roles had been reversed, it had been yours shining because he wouldn’t stop scrutinising the littlest movement you made. Attuned to the smallest of details.
Ivar had put together a celebration for his wedding. Several pitchers of ale and mead, roasted meat, fish and lamb, whichever one might prefer, with cooked potatoes and fresh herbs. Endless chunks of black bread, cheese, and honey. Not even five hundred men could’ve been able to topple down this banquet. You had a hunch your brother-in-law hoped Thor would visit him, it was the only thing that could explain why he put the cooks under the strain of providing so much food.
The invited people cheered him on. They spoke in loud voices, between the contagious fits of laughter, above the glee music that brought couples to the centre of the room, dancing. You’d been invited to twice. The first had been by Ubbe. Your best friend never drifted too far away from you, more so when you were with child, he’d orbit around you to make sure you were okay, well-fed and pleased. Hvitserk himself wasn’t this protective of you, and he was obnoxious to a fault, his hands always finding their way to rest on the soft round of your stretched stomach. You danced, Ubbe leaning in to whisper in your ear that you looked so lovely his brother had been rendered unable to fight the inevitable pull of you, his sight unwavering towards you. The second one, however, had put your husband in a sour mood. He didn’t like Leif one bit, it made him queasy that you had been pursued by him.
As soon as the song was over, Hvitserk rose to a stand, making his way to you, not even bothering that he’d stumbled some people in the crowded trail to where you were. His hand found the dip in your waist, pulling you back so you were flush up against him. Though you couldn’t look at it, you knew his semblance had been a warning. You search for his hand, twinning it with yours, and offer Leif a measured, polite smile, then walk away, Hvitserk threading behind you as a lost child.
You find your baby girl sitting next to her uncle. Little Hildi was the light of Ivar’s eyes, you had never seen him beam before she was born. He was yet to have his children, though you felt no one would take the soft spot your girl had carved in his heart. All the love he hadn’t given to his brother, he was sure to give his niece. It also meant she was taken care of, so you could slip away with your husband without probing looks from others, lost in the faces of the mass. When the festivities were over, Ivar would take her back to their home.
You intend to take him back to your house, drop to your knees and show him that there’s no other man that you would ever do this for. Hvitserk, on the other hand, seems to have other plans swimming in his mind when he stops in his tracks as soon as you’re out. The chilled breeze of early spring makes you shudder, but when he touches you, you feel warm everywhere. Tingling, shaking with anticipation.
“Think it’s cute?” His voice dips low as he pins you to a wooden wall. He’s brought you to a narrow alleyway, not at all secluded, though the night’s darkness forbids others from seeing who are the lovers lost to their passions there.
“What?”
“Making me jealous,” He points out, his hips tight on yours. “Do you think it’s cute?”
“‘M not trying to make you jealous, my love,” The hard touch of his cock against you makes a whimper slip out. “Never. I’m yours.”
“Fuck yeah you’re mine,” The green becomes a slim ring around the dilated pupils. “Don’t and won’t share you with anyone. Mine.”
It’s a sound akin to a wolf growling that he lets slip. He begins to lift your skirt, the hot, feverish skin exposed prickles, and your lips part in a tremulous gasp. You knew what he was going to do, you also knew you should stop him. Then he fell to his knees, glancing up at you while he kissed your inner ankle. It’s a view that you can’t resist. Hvitserk, when he wants, can always get away with his biddings.
He pushes down the short, linen braies you had on, balling it up to shove deep in his pocket. The cool gush of air makes you gasp, which, on its account, makes him smile. Proud of himself. He’s a big teaser. He loves to see how much he can delay his skilled touches until you beg. Until you’re whimpering him to please do something.
His cheek mashes against your thigh, it forces your legs to drift so he can fit in the snug between them. The soft rubbing of his hands is the only grounding you can get as your mind starts to spin with how close he is. Hvitserk bites a patch of tender flesh before grunting, your cunt on display for him to do as he pleased. Even in the wavering light, he could catch the gleam of your slick pooled at where you thrummed overcome with desire.
The pad of his thumb finds its way to your clit in one fleeting touch. You groan in frustration, rolling your hips towards him, beseeching. His concealed laugh fans warm air all over you, a broken cry filling the night’s silence in reply.
“I should take you right here,” He muses, a quick nip on the flesh of your inner thigh. “So anyone who wanders by knows who you belong to.”
“Serk…” The sound is so pitiful you can see a gleam of compassion on his face, but you know better than to think he would be so pliant. “Everyone knows I’m yours. And everyone knows you’re mine.”
He scoffs then rises to a stand, and his full height makes you feel small. Your skirt falls back to its original place, rustling as it slides down your legs. His sudden draw-back leaves an uncomfortable aftertaste, you feel the emotion bubble at the bottom of your throat. The second pregnancy has left you even more emotive, always bursting at the seams.
Hvitserk runs his knuckles along with your cheekbone. It was crystal clear that the welling tears had got through him. He never knows just how to act when you are upset, so he just looks at you, a silent offer of his unspoken care. You aren’t sad or angry at him, but you haven't been able to keep yourself in check, which you do often for his sake.
You lean into him, on your tippy-toes to wrap your arms around his neck. His gentle embraces feel like the first breeze of summer, warm and with the hope to bloom.
The way back home is quiet. No one meanders the cobblestoned streets, no houses seem to have inhabitants. Ivar made a point to invite everyone, so they’d see him wed the love of his life. You remember what it feels like, to be so in love you want the whole world to witness it. To savour, to envy. When you married Hvitserk, a good few years ago, now, you felt the same. An urge to let all the others be assured that this man was yours, that this love, his love, was worth screaming about.
His hand is looped with yours, as he leads the way up a narrow path that leads to the front door of your home. It was built a little far-off from the city, surrounded by bright green grass that threaded with geraniums during spring, and it's hidden amidst tall trees. Wild animals often roam about, your cooks drove insane with them ruining the backyard garden with the fresh spices they use to prepare supper. You wouldn’t have liked to live anywhere but.
As expected, your servants aren’t there when Hvitserk swings the door open. It’s dark, the candles are long blown out. Once inside, however, you feel a pleasant balmy air shroud you, so the fireplace must’ve been fed new logs, its screaming orange flames a source of light for you to take in the smooth features your husband now donned. He pushed you down in a soft, caring motion.
You struggle to find a comfortable seat. Each day, it seemed, your baby grew bigger, your tummy a pointy thing that made it hard to sleep, stand too long on your feet, or even breathe in a normal fashion. It always seemed like you ran a marathon. He bends to kiss the crown of your head, then disappears into the darkness.
Only the gentle creep of dying wood filled the room. You stretch your hands to gather some heat, the tips of your fingers tingling as blood comes rushing to warm them up. Your cheeks sting, too. The warmth seems to wake the sleeping dragon that rests within, your baby moving around, stretching and kicking. You can’t bite back the smile while you touch your stomach, in hopes that the soft shushing would put the boy at ease.
Hildi was always the quiet babe. Even when she was born, she did not cry, not until the midwife slapped her tiny tush. You could see him embedded in the last fibre of her being. They were both good at playing people, using their sharp tongues to sneak out of harsh punishments, too smart for their own sake. She was her father’s daughter in every sense.
It softened you out to see him so devoted to her. You thought, when you were told you had a healthy baby girl, he’d slight her. His green eyes, that you saw each time she looked at you, had glistened in genuine happiness. Hvitserk was enamoured by Hildi, taken by her in a way you didn’t think he’d be. Part of you wondered, now that you were so certain you’d be giving him a son, that he would dismiss his firstborn to regard his first boy.
“Is everything okay, my sweetness?” His voice is pinch lower, hushed as he sits beside you. There’s a puzzling hint that scrunches his face. “You seem lost in thoughts.”
“Do you love Hildi?”
“More than anything.”
“More than me?” You bite the tip of your tongue so as not to smile.
“She’s my princess, my baby girl, I love her more than anything in the world,” Hvitserk leans closer, nestling his face between the soft plush of your breasts. “But I love her momma more.”
“Will you love this boy more than you love you love her?”
His chin rests at your collar when he looks up at you, confused, “What?”
“I just… I don’t want her to feel neglected. She adores you, you know,” Your fingers slid to the end of his braids, tugging at the rubber bands that keep them in place. “I know it’s important to have sons, but I want her to be seen, too.”
Hvitserk straightens up, taken aback by your abrupt confession. You feel his lips on yours not too long after. It’s not harsh or passionate. It’s gentle and soft, like the forehead kisses he gives her each time she leaves for a riding lesson with her uncle. All the love you feel for him boils in your blood. It makes you want to scream out loud. Your love is a body of water that would flood an entire city.
You press your forehead to his, “What was that for?”
“Sometimes I think you’re not real,” He discloses in a little voice, but you feel the weight of the words he’s speaking. “I wonder if this life I now have is not some figment of my imagination to safeguard me from the rotten reality I must be in.”
“My love,” A soft plea for him to dismiss those thoughts almost tumbles out, but before you have the chance, he quiets you with a finger.
“I love our house, coming home to a screaming Hildi that will hang on one of my legs like the nasty little monkey that she is and coming home to you, to kiss you, to kiss your pregnant belly. I don’t care if the babies you give me are boys or girls. All of this is more than I think I deserve.”
“Hvitserk,” You call for him, your mouths meeting in a desperate kiss. You’re not used to having him be so open about what he feels, it suits him. “You deserve so much more. You should know you settled for me because you could have any woman your heart would desire-”
“I don’t want anyone else,” It’s an even, pure statement. His eyes flicker with earnest. “You should know, though, that Ivar taking a liking to you has made it possible for me to keep you.”
“I have to disagree… Ivar could hate me, and still, he couldn’t take you away from me. I’d tear anyone apart before they take you from me.”
The timid light bounces on the mischievous smile he’s got all over his face. Hvitserk helps you to a stand, your back facing him. It was his favourite mundane activity, undressing you. Each delicate button was undone, his aptitude far exacerbated for a man such as him. You had seen him fight, seen him wield weapons as thick as one’s thigh. The first time he stripped you, you couldn’t stop your mouth from hanging open. Stunned that he had such a mastery.
Each layer is unbound until you’re standing naked. He kisses the crook of your neck, then up to the shell of your ear, where he tells you how gorgeous you look. Your nipples, enlarged and darkened, are hard, too sensitive when he twists them, his mouth busy scraping each available patch of skin. The sounds you make echo across the empty room.
That’s a sight you could never get accustomed to, him, on his knees, wielding his strongest weapon, those hungry eyes, at you. Hvitserk had cornered you against a wall, parting your legs so he’d have a taste. Not the first taste today. He had to have you before leaving the house to tend to his daily tasks. His index finger runs down your cunt, bullying the snug entrance, not quite sliding it in, a taunting that brought a hefty weight to the bottom of your tummy.
He brings his finger to his mouth, sucking the tip. His delight hum does things to your body, it’s a hoarse, untamed noise that pulls out a frustrated groan. Hvitserk repeats this sequence of hellish steps until tears roll down your cheeks, too distressed to have him touch you. Not fading touches, no, you wanted the ones that would be certain to undo the budding knots coiling inside you.
The primal sound he makes when the back of your knee is set on the curve of his shoulder, and his tongue gets all the free room to do whatever he finds suitable, turns you into a weak stew. A pathetic, meek thing that’s been held up by the iron grip of his hands that steady the undulating of your hips. Hvitserk takes and takes and takes, like a man who’s known hunger would eat.
All the while he’s looking right up at you, devouring you in more ways than one. You rest your palm over his own, a quiet request for him to hold it while you let go. He complies, the warm meshing of fingers releases a wave of tenderness that envelops you. Even at his most distraught times, never once had you felt like he didn’t care for you. It was what made you fall in love with him, this unspoken bubble of sincere affection that would will into stillness the fiercest ocean.
His honey words reach your ears, hushed while he’s still busy between your thighs, lips wrapped around you in a salacious kiss. You were dangling from his lips, such as mead that trickles down the barrels after being poured into a cup. A thin thread that each assault of his soft tongue tore it further, unravelling. The pleasure was just a puff away, numbing the edges of your head until it snapped.
Hvitserk holds you through the trembling of limbs, the sputtered curses. His murmurs only spur you further, your hands shaking as you try to hold on to something. A tower built so high that when it toppled down, it shook the grounds, that’s what it felt like. Each time, it seemed, he cemented it higher, so when it crumbled, you’d be stuck in a haze.
You don’t acknowledge him taking you to the room, so soon after he kisses the jut of your stomach, whispering words to the unborn babe. He lies you on the bed, cradled in furs to protect you from the cold, then moves away. His laugh fills the room when you whine, like a child being denied staying up a little later. But being apart from him was lonely, regardless of whether it was miles or steps. You always longed for his skin against yours.
When he joins you, he no longer bears the heavy coatings, all bare for the touching, that you can’t help but do. His fingers trail down your back, a kiss pressed to your forehead as he scoops you closer to lie your head on his chest.
“Want you to take me, my love,” You ask, your hand splayed across his chest. “I can, now. And I want you to.”
The air shifts when he chuckles, it’s almost dismissive. In one quick swivel, however, he’s hovering above you, settled between your thighs. You feel him, so hard, so wanting. Hvitserk finds your lips with his first, biting down on the tender flesh, the tip of his nose bumping against yours.
“I love you,” He says in a serene, serious tone. “Love you so fucking much, you know that?”
“I love you, too, honey,” You tug at the hairs in the nape of his neck. “You should hurry up. Who knows when Ivar will bring Hildi back? He could be on his way.”
“Got myself an insatiable woman,” It’s only a half-joke, though you still laugh. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”
“You don’t have to worry, Hvitserk son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” His eyes gleamed with playfulness. “I’m fucking yours. Now show it to me just how much you want to claim me.”
He bites a tender spot below your ear, one hand going between your bodies so he can finger you and smear your slick around. Only when he’s satisfied with the mewling noises you’re making, do you feel him fist himself. Once, twice, then the fat head of his cock teases the snug heat of your entrance, breaching you at a slow, torturous pace.
Your legs are spread apart so you can take him, so deep into you it’s like he’s rooted. Both stay in a quiet moment of stillness, relishing the soft surrender that making love feels like. His face is hidden in the crook of your neck, his feather touches lighting up a fire within, your sweat-slick skin aching, so responsive to him. To the coarse fingers squeezing, to the small puddle of brownish hairs on his chest scraping yours. Every detail drove you insane.
By the time he moves, it’s measured, stagnant. It’s atypical, your husband can become a different being in the throes of passion, what with the slaps, the foul, dirty names he calls you, and with how hard he gives it to you. Making love is quite a rarity, which makes you appreciate it even further. Though his regular satiates the hunger in both your bones, this, it’s beyond the alluring satisfaction a high can give, it’s a connection. You like when he allows himself to peel away the hard shell he shrinks into every day.
Hvitserk kisses your cheek, then your temple, your forehead, your nose, your lips. His snaps grow harder, though just as deliberate, a hot wave of pleasure hitting you each time his hips meet yours, the friction enough to turn your brain into mush. Gods, how was it fair that this man could be so good at this? He had spoiled you for others. Spoiled you good.
His hips stutter.
“Gods, you feel so fucking amazing,” He groans into your ear, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh they held. “Mine. All fucking mine.”
“Yours, my love,” You clutch a handful of his hair, pulling him up for a breathless kiss. “I’m so… so…”
“I know, baby doll,” His grunt breaks a dam inside, the building pressure tighter and tighter.
He does it before you. Scorching hot spurts of spend, like he’s trying to put another baby inside you before the other even comes out. Hvitserk bites one of your nipples, moaning your name over and over. Perhaps it was when you fell. Wrung up to the breaking point until you split, a bone-crunching fall that had the loudest moans spilling past your lips.
Your toes curled, your heels dug into the back of his thighs. It’s a fire that licks your body, that rattles, shakes, then turns all muscles into lead, falling limp beneath him. An exhausted chuckle fills the short space between you, and your husband inclines to search your mouth in a feverish press of lips. You close your eyes for a beat, savouring how close he is, how your bodies are mended together.
It’s a while before he rolls to your side, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets. Both of you enjoy a quietude that only a lover can provide to the other. You love his presence so very much that just this, lying side by side, it’s enough. You are not greedy, this life, regardless of how little he thinks it is, it’s more than you could have wished for. He brings you to the warmth of his arms, where you remain until the first raps on the door.
How much time had slipped away, you had no clue, but when he stood, pulling on linen breeches and a woollen tunic, you realised that could only be your daughter being brought back home. The missing piece to your happy family. While he disappeared to fetch her, you force yourself to stand up so you’d be dressed by the time she comes to you.
“Momma, momma!” Her childish little squeals warm your heart. “Uncle Ivar says I’m not just getting a little brother, but also a cousin, isn’t that wonderful?”
Hildi runs to wrap her arms around your hips, her chubby tiny face pressed to the round of your belly. Hvitserk rests against the threshold, arms crossed over his chest and a beaming smile on his face. You could taste on the tip of your tongue how happy he was, how accomplished he felt to have built this life with you.
“Yeah, cricket, yes, it is.”
“Papa says I can sleep with you tonight?”
“Did he, now?” You look at him, his face turning sheepish.
Wearing that look, he’s once more the boy you fell in love with, back when you were a bit older than your daughter is now. A boy that’s up to no good. Gods, if you’d known. That one day, when you joined a playful sword fight with him, that he’d be the one, you would never have let him slip away from your fingers. Sometimes, when there’s nothing else but the eerie silence of your thoughts, you regret the lost time. You could’ve held him. Could’ve protected him from the hurt he went through.
You'd break your heart in two if it means he'll be happy.
“Can I, momma?” She pushes, her chin resting on your stomach. “Please? Asa sleeps with Uncle Ubbe and Aunt Torvi all the time, she told me!”
“Of course you can,” You pinch one of her cheeks. "First you need to take off those feast clothes."
You mean to start removing her garments, but you are stopped before you get the chance to even touch her silver kransen. Hvitserk lifts her into his arms, her legs dangling as she settles on his hip, and he takes her to her bedroom. You smile at the gesture, your hand falling to yet again quell the restless growing babe. He’d woken again, moving around as if feasting inside your womb.
The room has dipped a degree colder, you shrink within the thin chemise you have on, though you dismissed it as quick as it rattled your body. It’s come to your attention the mess you’ve made, pillows and furs and linen sheets sprawled, tossed to the ground. You groan when dropping to your knees to pick them up, returning them to their original place.
Hildi is half-asleep on his lap when your husband returns. Her small fist clings to the collar of his tunic, her green eyes fluttering between closed and opened. Hvitserk nestles her between the bundle of covers, then he moves to you. Your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders. Inside his hug, you get to hear the even heartbeat.
“See?” He says in a hushed whisper.
“What, elskr?”
“Whenever I’m with you, I always feel calm,” Your hand splays over his chest, and he rests his own above yours. “My heart never beats faster, never slower, always even. You’re my calmness after the wildest of storms.”
“You already married me, Serk, why are you wooing me like this?”
“‘M not wooing you,” His chuckle raises goosebumps all across your skin. “I’m making sure you know that you’re everything I need.”
You pull his hand to the swell of your left breast, “You’re my calmness, too.”
He moulds your body against him when you’re back to bed, comfortable under the heavy blankets. And this, sleeping cradled between his arms, watching your daughter sleep in such peace, it’s your definition of happiness.
Summary: As a way to start off your training with Hvitserk, you take him out early in the morning to show him the sunrise and to tell him one important rule.
Warnings: strong language, fluff, mentions of raiding, mentions of murder, mentions of stealing, dragons, dragon rider au
Word Count: 2,029
A Secret World Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist
You wake Hvitserk up early in the morning, before sunrise, with another cup of the sweet smelling, ale-like liquid. Then, you made him follow you through the quiet city where he had seen a few hatching Dragons still sleeping on top of barrels or on top of perches on the roofing of the houses you two passed.
The sky is still dark so he is not able to see if are were any bigger Dragons flying around. But he doesn’t think they are. It’s all too quiet and there’s not even a sound of wings flapping above his head. There aren’t even roars in the distance. It’s just like an early morning in Kattegat.
At that thought - as you continue to lead Hvitserk out of the city just as you did when you took him to see Gudrun - he thinks about what could be happening to his home. He wonders who is running it now, if any of his brothers had, by some miracle, survived and taken back what belongs to his family. He wonders if the city is still burning…
After a while, he notices that you’re once again leading him into the wilderness, away from the city built into the stone of a mountain. But it’s not in the direction of the Dragon’s Mountain, that which Gudrun lives on. In fact, when he looks over his shoulder, in the distance illuminated by the light of the slowly rising sun, he sees that exact mountain. You’re leading him in the opposite direction.
He understands why you had woken him up so early. Because the journey takes a while and he realises that there’s an ache in his legs when you finally come to a stop in front of a towering pillar of rocks.
“Can you climb?” you ask, looking at him after staring up at the pillar for a moment. You hand him a waterskin and he doesn’t have to ask what’s in it because it seems that all you’ve been giving him to drink is that water from the stream in the room that’s become his for his stay.
Looking up at the pillar, he takes in a deep breath to calm his heart that skips a beat when he sees how high up it goes. “I can try,” he finally says, turning his gaze to look at you again.
You chuckle to yourself and reach for the coil of rope tied to your belt. “Wait here. I’ll drop this down for you when I get up there. We don’t need you falling to your death so soon,” you lightly say with a teasing smile on your face that quells the anxious feeling in his chest.
Hvitserk watches you starting to climb the pillar as if it’s like walking. Your feet find ledges to stand on without even slipping slightly. They don’t even knock off small pebbles or dust. He tries to remember all of your steps, trying to remember where he needs to step when he eventually climbs up this strong pillar. But he can’t help but be mesmerised by your skill.
He wonders how many times you’ve done this.
Thinking about why you might have brought him here, he wonders if this is his first lesson. He doesn’t have much time to learn everything. The month your mother had given him can go by in the blink of an eye.
What would happen if he fails? What would they do to him? What would your father, the king, do?
Realising that your father is a king, that would make you a princess. And that thought makes him smile as he turns his gaze back up to you to see how far you’ve gotten.
Of all the princesses and ladies of stature he has met, you are definitely different. You act more like a shieldmaiden. But then again, he doesn’t think you focus on training to fight. He’s not sure what you act like, but he knows that he enjoys this nature.
It’s exciting to him. When he watches you, he thinks of doing these things beside you. Maybe even fighting to see who would beat the other to the top of this pillar. He thinks of sneaking out of the city in the early mornings as you did now, ready to explore more of this land. He would let you lead him anywhere, show you new sights and teach him things no one in his world would ever know.
And if things go the way he thinks it will go, perhaps you will teach him how to ride a Dragon. Then he can soar through the skies with you…
The rope drops down in front of him, breaking him out of his thoughts and he steps back in surprise, peering up to see you’ve finally reached the top. “Come on. Before you miss what I want to show you.”
He smiles, running his tongue over his lips as he almost jumps to wrap the rope around his torso to start climbing.
You made this look easy when you went, but for Hvitserk, he has to look down every time he moves his feet to make sure his footing is sure before finding another gripping place for his hands. He has some comfort to know that you’re constantly keeping an eye on him, making sure he doesn’t fall by giving him advice as to what stones to avoid and where to place his foot next.
And when his hand finally reaches the flat top surface, you help pull him up until he sits firmly beside you, panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I know. It’s quite a challenge the first time,” you chuckle, relaxing beside him and placing your feet flat in front of you so your knees are bent and you can wrap your arms around them.
Hvitserk stares at you for a moment as you look out in front of you, happy to just be up here in one piece. Then, he turns his gaze out to see the sight you’ve made him climb up here to see. It’s enough to kickstart his heart again.
The Dragon Mountain hides the sun, making it seem like it’s glowing with fire. There are no silhouettes of Dragons flying around it like they would during the day and the mountain casts a shadow over the fortress you and Hvitserk had come from. It’s only a matter of time before the sun peeks over the mountain top to start the new day.
“I think everyone needs to see this sunrise at least once. I come here almost every morning for it,” you whisper, blinking at the sight as you breathe out a long, satisfied sigh.
It’s quiet for a moment, not even a breath on the wind as you and Hvitserk stare out at the Dragon’s Mountain in the distance, watching as the light creeps around the sides of the summit. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off the mountain, fearing that he’ll miss what you’ve brought him here to see. But he wants to see the look on your face when the sun rises. He wants to see what your features look like in the light of a new day.
It happened slowly, then quickly all of a sudden. When the sun finally peaked, a roar sounded in the heart of the mountain sending hundreds of black dragon silhouettes flying into the sky. It’s like a flock of birds have been scared and now scatter in different directions. Hvitserk takes note of how just like in the city, there are different sized Dragons on the mountain. Some are so small, he can barely even see them. Others are big, and he can make out their figure clearly.
He can tell as he watches them fly around each other, the way they don’t seem to fly like the ones in the city, soaring without a care, that these Dragons are the wild ones you’ve mentioned to him before. He wonders if your people have ever had issues with these wild creatures attacking the city. They must be dangerous even tamed. But he’s never seen any sign of past destruction burned on the walls of the stone-built city.
This sight is unlike any Hvitserk has ever seen. He had fallen in love with one sunrise in a distant land while on a raid with Bjorn. But this one has stolen his heart and he can understand why you would make this dreadful climb up here every morning for it.
He would do the same.
“If there’s one thing you must know about going forward and learning our ways, Hvitserk-” His head snaps to you at the sound of his name on your lips. As if his heart wasn’t already pounding in his chest. “It’s that these Dragons are to be shown the utmost respect at all times, no matter their size,” you mention, turning your own gaze away from the light rising over the mountains to him. “Even the smallest Dragon can kill you if they want to. They’ve been here long before we were here and they will most likely be here when we have all died. And just like us, they have their own possessions that some outsiders have tried to steal. It is why my father doesn’t trust anyone that comes beyond the Great River,” you explain, chuckling to yourself as you drop your eyes to your hands.
Hvitserk notices how when you run your hand over your thigh, you tremble slightly as if shuddering at a terrible memory. Then, you clear your throat and reach for the waterskin you had handed him a while ago to take a long sip from liquid inside.
“Promise me that you will not try and take what is not yours from them,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on the waterskin for a moment before slowly lifting your gaze up to him.
It’s as if your eyes peer deeply into his soul, seeing everything he has done before in his past and how much he has taken that had not belonged to him. Gold, jewels, cities, women, and lives.
He turns his gaze back to the mountain and lets out a deep sigh. “I want things to be different for me. Maybe it will bring me some kind of happiness if I forget the kind of things I’ve been taught,” he whispers back to you, feeling like he doesn’t want to break the peacefulness the sunrise has brought over this land without a war raging on inside of it.
You shift up closer to him, place a gentle hand on his forearm and hand him the waterskin, smiling that gentle smile when he looks back up at you. “Can you tell me?” you ask.
Hvitserk’s heart skips a beat when his fingers brush against yours as he takes the waterskin from you again.
“I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like beyond the River, but I’ve never reached the Far City, your home.”
He smiles, wondering if things would be like this if you had made it there and he had met you in the marketplace. Would he even have seen you? Would he have bothered to introduce himself to you? Would he even care the way he cares now?
“Kattegat,” he says, thinking it’s best to teach you the real name of his home instead of what you called it; the Far City.
You do want to learn from him, just as he wants to learn from you.
You repeat the name making goosebumps travel up Hvitserk’s arms as he smiles back at you. That smile doesn’t last long as he remembers the last he saw of it. His head drops between his shoulders. “You don’t want to know how things work in my world,” he starts, staring at the waterskin in his hands, remembering the last time he had a cup of ale with his brothers. “It’s nothing like how things work here.”
“Nothing out there works the way like how things work here,” you mention, crossing your legs under you, making the loose pebbles shift and grind under your feet. “It’s what makes everyone different.”
Modern!Hvitserk is the type of guy to be both, the boyfriend who creepily flirts with you at the gym, and the guy who comes up to you at the bar to protect you from the creepy guys who flirt with you there, being like “hey lovey, you ready for another drink?” when he sees that you’re uncomfortable.
Like as your boyfriend, he’s playfully creepy, but if you’re total strangers he protects you from the creeps like the balanced man he is.
