Summary: You married a man who didn’t love you, but you chose to love him anyway. Through quiet care and devotion, you gave him healing he never thought possible.
You were not the wife he wanted.
You knew it the moment Queen Aslaug placed your hand in Ivar’s before the gods. You felt it in the stiffness of his grip, in the way he looked through you and not at you.
“A union blessed by the gods,” Aslaug had said, smiling gently at her son. “She is clever, gentle. She will be good for you, Ivar.”
Ivar did not reply.
He only walked away from the wedding fire when the ritual ended, leaving you alone among the ash and shadows.
And yet, you stayed.
You were his wife now. You were bound to him.
Even if he hated you.
He ignored you most days. Barely spoke to you unless forced. When he did, his words were sharp and cold, meant to push you away.
Still, you watched him. Quietly.
The way pain twisted his features in the morning. The tremble in his hands when he forced his legs into motion. The anger he swallowed, the shame he masked with cruelty.
You saw it all. And your heart ached.
Because, unlike him, you wanted this marriage.
You had admired him for years.
Not just his mind or his fierce spirit, but the way he carried himself despite the world’s cruelty.
You saw a man carved by pain, and you longed to soften its edges. To help him heal.
So you sought out old healing texts. Spoke to volvas in secret.
Traded furs for rare herbs. Brewed tinctures to strengthen bones, to ease pain, to mend where time had been unkind.
And every night, you added it to his drink.
Quietly. Carefully.
You knew he wouldn’t accept it if he knew.
It happened on a stormy night.
He came home from the training fields, soaked and furious, dragging mud into the hall.
You had already prepared his food, placed the warm cup of brew beside it as always.
You smiled, ready to leave him in peace.
But his eyes were already on you.
“What is this?” he snapped, lifting the cup. “You give me this every night. Do you think I don’t notice?”
Your breath caught. He was holding it like it was poison.
“It's nothing. Just herbs, to help you rest-”
He threw the cup against the wall. It shattered, making you flinch.
“Do not lie to me,” he growled. “Are you trying to kill me, Wife? Is that how much you hate being mine?”
His voice was venom. His hatred, a sword.
You swallowed hard. Your hands trembled, but you didn’t back down.
“It’s not poison,” you said quietly. “It’s medicine. For your legs.”
He stared at you. Something in his eyes cracked.
“What?”
“I asked the volvas. Searched scrolls from the East. It's a mixture of roots and silverleaf, it's meant to help rebuild strength in damaged bones. You’ve been in less pain lately, haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
You stepped closer.
“I just wanted to help. I know you didn’t want this marriage. You don’t even like me. But I still see you. And I care. Even if you never… feel the same.”
Silence fell.
The storm outside raged, but in the hall, it was still.
Ivar looked at you, truly looked at you, for the first time since your wedding night.
“You’ve been doing this… for how long?”
“Since the second week we wed.”
He lowered his gaze. You saw the war in him, between pride and pain, between mistrust and something softer.
“You are a fool,” he said. But his voice had lost its edge. “A stubborn, strange little fool.”
You turned to leave, swallowing your humiliation.
“Wait.”
You stopped.
He rose from his bench with difficulty, but stood nonetheless. He looked at you, blue eyes unreadable.
“I’ve been walking farther. I thought it was the gods.” A pause. “You’re the one who did it.”
You nodded slowly.
He stepped toward you.
“Why?”
Your voice was barely a whisper. “Because I love you.”
The words stunned the air.
He didn’t speak. He only looked at you, and for the first time, you saw no hatred in his eyes. Only confusion, and something like awe.
He reached for your hand, his fingers trembling.
“Sit with me,” he said. “Stay tonight.”
You hesitated. Then nodded.
That night, for the first time, Ivar did not eat alone. And when you touched his hand beneath the firelight, he didn’t pull away.
The fire crackled low, and outside, the rain turned soft, tapping gently on the roof like the gods themselves were listening.
You sat beside him, closer than ever before, your hands folded in your lap, unsure of what to say now that you’d spoken the truth.
You had confessed love to a man who never once gave you kindness.
But tonight… he had not turned away.
Ivar’s eyes were unreadable, but they didn’t look through you anymore. They held you.
“How long have you loved me?” he asked, voice quiet as the flames.
You hesitated, but answered honestly. “Since before the wedding. I admired your strength. Your cleverness. The way you held your head high when the world gave you every reason not to.”
He looked away at that, jaw tight. “You saw something good in me. Even when I couldn’t.”
You nodded.
“And yet I treated you like the enemy.”
You gave him a soft smile, one born of pain, not pity. “You were protecting yourself. I understand.”
He exhaled through his nose. Then, after a long silence:
“No one has ever done what you’ve done for me. Not like that. Not in secret. Not without asking for something in return.”
You turned toward him. “I didn’t want anything. Just… for you to be in less pain.”
He looked at you then, and something cracked open behind his gaze.
“Come here,” he murmured.
Slowly, cautiously, you moved toward him.
Ivar shifted with effort, wincing as he opened his arms, awkwardly at first, as if the gesture were unfamiliar. And perhaps it was. You had never touched more than his hand or shoulder since the wedding.
But now…
You moved into his embrace.
He wrapped his arms around you, hesitantly at first… then tightly. Desperately. As if the idea of being held like this might break him, but also save him.
His forehead pressed into your neck, and you felt it.
The tremble.
The breath he was holding.
The surrender.
“I don’t know how to love,” he whispered, voice cracking. “But I want to try.”
You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.
“You don’t have to know how,” you whispered. “Just let it happen. We’ll find the way together.”
His eyes searched yours for a long, breathless moment.
And then—he kissed you.
It was not rough or hurried like you'd imagined it might be. It was soft. Curious. Full of unfamiliar tenderness. The kiss of a man learning, trusting, hoping.
And when he finally pulled away, his hands stayed on your face like he couldn’t bear to let go.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered.
“I’m yours,” you replied. “I always have been.”
That night, you didn’t lie on opposite sides of the bed like you had for so long. You curled into him, warm under furs, his arm wrapped around you protectively. He fell asleep with his face in your hair, breathing you in.
And for the first time since your wedding, he didn’t wake from nightmares.
He only dreamed of you.
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
Wattpad
/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
hellooooo I saw you were taking requests so may I request a ragnarsons headcannons?? (Because I read your ivar works)
Can you do how they would…yk… because I can’t find any works of them ANYWHERE!! Can you include, bjorn, ubbe, hvitserk, ivar and Ragnar!
please and thank youuuuu 🥲🫶
𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮
(Minors do not interact)
Master list
Including: bjorn, Ubbe, ivar, hvitserk and ragnar.
Warnings: SMUT, no use of the words 'length' we use proper autonomy here 🙂↕️, vulgar language.
Summary: how the Ragnarsons would fuck you. This is a FULL assessment, including positions, cock x-ray and there fuck rating.
A/N: Omg yessss of course I can!! Im always happy for new ideas and my ‘asks’ will always be a safe space for peoples ideas :) and I think i should just start a ragnarsons series tbh 🫣.
Bjorn:
Bjorn is a beast. In 99% of life and sex is definitely apart of that, I may never forgive him for being a shitty husband and father.
but..if I could I would.
When he fucks you it almost always after something has happened, it's never just spontaneous, (he's spontaneous with whores, not with you.) he's just got back after months away? Sex. just fought a battle? Sex. Just had an argument? Sex. Just finished a sacrifice? Sex...you get the point.
Positions: doggy, wall sex, matting press.
Cock x-ray: 7 inches, straight, veiny.
Rating: 8.9/10 he needs to work on the intimacy but everything else is good
Ubbe:
Oh my sweet Ubbe. Ubbe is a gentle yet feisty and protective man, a 'gentle giant' if you will.
but he is a freaky thing in the sheets, anything you want he's giving it to you, (we all know he's open to a threesome), you want him to eat you out like he's a starved man? just lay on the table for him why don't you, he isn't Just freaky in the sheets, in private when your not having sex he has no filter, once he outright asked you if you wanted to ride him when you were eating breakfast, (you can tell where that went).
he will do anything you want him to like some sort of dog (but don't think for one second he's gonna be submissive).
Positions: cowgirl, missionary, any position under the sun.
Cock x-ray: 8-9 inches, I definitely think he's bigger than Bjorn and he feels no need to flaunt it. His tip is only slightly pink but he has a curve to his and it got veins that his the right spots every time.
Rating: 100/10 🫡
Ivar:
Now...ivar..he is so difficult to write realistically for because of his legs so, ima try my best.
Ivar was rather insecure when you first started having sex, he didn't want another Margrethe situation and he didn't want to disappoint you (or have to kill you), but when he realise that he just needed a connection with someone before he could have sex with them?
Thor himself couldn't hold him back from you.
He was so desperate to make up for everything he missed out on, and best believe he is not waiting a single drop of cum.
When he fucks you he's a toucher, he's cupping ever since part of you as your ride him.
Positions: cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, 69, (occasionally missionary if he's feeling up to it)
Cock x-ray: thick thick thick thick.. at least 8 inches, he has one long vein on the underside of him and he is a bit more sensitive than others.
Rating: 9/10 when you...teach him...(he's a fast learner btw)
Hvitserk:
hvitserk is a gentle man. Hes an amazing fighter and an even better lover.
Im talking, fucking under moonlight.
im talking, making you fuck yourself on him.
im talking, making your voice horse from screaming.
Dat what im talking about. This man acts all soft and shit, in public..but when he gets his hands on you? This man is making you beg for more.
Cock x-ray: a firm 8 inches. Senstitive tip, just the right amount of thickness.
Rating: 10/10 this man cand bend me over any day
Ragnar:
Ok but disrespectfully i need this man to break my back and fuck me through the pain. (maybe that was a bit much...)
But you could not rip me from this man. He knows what he is doing. He knows
Hes a teaser, he will make you beg, just for the fun of it. And he dont need any help when it comes to it.
Hes up for it at any time, all day, from the kitchen to the bathroom sink type shit.
Open to all your kinks. (he has a lot tbh)
And i am a firm beliver in the hereditary ragnarson breeding kink. They all have it and ragnar is the sorce.
I can just image him saying something like “awe so desprate for me huh?“ as hes thrusting ever so slowly into you..
(Ima bout to start barking)
Cock x-ray: 9 inches. Thick everywhere. Lowkey has a scar on it from when he tried to shave with a blade ’down there’ (it ended badly).
Summary: Ivar returns from a successful raid bearing many gifts for you...
Warnings: implied!smut, possessive!Ivar, nudity, mature themes, sensuality, fluff, established relationship, Ivar just spoiling you
Pairing: Ivar x reader
Words: 1,3 k (short & sweet) 🫶🏼
You were alone in your chamber, the low fire casting golden shadows on the walls, lost in your thoughts, when the sound of the door creaking open made you turn.
And there he was.
Ivar.
For a moment, you simply stared—your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t even known he’d returned from his raid, but now, standing there in the doorway, wind-tousled and grinning mischievously, he looked like everything you’d been missing.
A cry of joy escaped your lips as you turned and rushed toward him, arms flinging around his shoulders.
“My love…” he murmured against your hair, breath warm at your temple. His crutch wobbled as your sudden embrace nearly knocked him off balance.
“Careful, love,” he chuckled, catching himself with a grunt, but his arm circled your waist anyway, dragging you close. He had missed this. Your body—your scent.
“I missed you so much,” you whispered against the side of his neck, your fingers grasping in the leather of his tunic, unwilling to let go.
His chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “Have you, now?” he said, tilting his head just slightly so his lips brushed your cheek.
You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes narrowed as you playfully nudged his shoulder. “Don’t get smug. It was peaceful without your loud mouth for a while.”
He gave you a mock wounded look. “And here I come bearing gifts, expecting a warm welcome—and this is how I’m treated?”
Your eyes widened, curiosity immediately betraying you. “Gifts?”
He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “But now I’m thinking I should give them to someone who actually likes me.”
You gasped, feigning offense. “I love you, you brute. That should be enough.”
“It’s not,” he said, lips twitching with amusement. “I require groveling. And maybe a kiss.”
“Just one?” you teased, rising onto your toes, lips already brushing his.
“Well,” he murmured, voice low, “we’ll start with one.”
“Shut up and come here.” You teased rolling your eyes before kissing him softly.
Ivar made his way to the edge of the bed, easing down with a soft grunt, his crutch resting between his legs as he leaned back on his palms, eyes never leaving you.
“You're staring,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you turned toward him.
“Can you blame me?” he drawled, smirking. “I go away for weeks, and somehow you manage to look even more beautiful. Is this witchcraft?”
Before you could answer, a soft knock came at the door, and a young skald slipped inside, arms full. Then another followed. And another. They carried bundles of fabric, silk, leather, furs—an explosion of color and texture.
Your jaw dropped as they kept piling everything onto a nearby chest and the foot of the bed. When the last skald bowed awkwardly and left, closing the door behind him, you turned slowly, blinking at the sheer amount of it all.
“Ivar…” you said, almost breathless. “What is this?”
He shrugged with mock innocence. “Spoils of war. A few markets. Some terrified merchants.”
“There must be atleast twenty dresses here!” you exclaimed, lifting one deep green velvet gown, the embroidery catching the firelight.
He leaned forward slightly, a hungry glint in his eye. “I thought you could try them on for me. All of them.”
You gave him a look. “All of them? You expect me to be your personal dress doll?”
“I expect you to look stunning in every single one,” he said, voice low and teasing. “And I expect to sit right here and enjoy the view, my pretty doll.”
“You are ridiculous,” you laughed, shaking your head as you picked up a blood-red dress and held it against yourself. “You want me to play dress-up while you just sit there like a king?”
“I am a king,” he said smugly, leaning back again. “And my queen deserves to be spoiled. Now, go on. That red one is calling your name.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but your smile gave you away. “You just want me to undress twenty times in front of you.”
He gave you a slow grin, eyes darkening. “That too.”
You laughed, tossing the red dress at his face. “Turn around. I need to undress.”
“No, I want to watch,” he said through the fabric, not even moving.
“You're impossible.”
“I missed you.”
And there it was again—soft and real beneath the mischief. Your heart squeezed as you met his eyes. Then, with a wink, you grabbed the nearest gown.
“Well then, my king… enjoy the show.”
You turned your back to him, your fingers toying with the ties at the front of your dress.
Ivar fell utterly silent behind you.
Slowly, purposefully, you slipped the straps from your shoulders, letting the fabric slither down your body like water. It pooled at your feet, and you stepped out of it gracefully, standing in nothing but in nudeness—your hands crossing over your chest, coyly covering yourself.
You didn’t have to see him to know he was watching.
The crackle of the fire filled the silence between you, but it didn’t last long.
“By the gods,” Ivar whispered, his voice low and reverent, laced with hunger, “Freya herself would’ve wept if she saw you like this.”
You turned your head slightly over your shoulder, catching his gaze. His eyes were dark, devouring every inch of you.
“You’ve missed this?” you asked softly, teasing.
“I’ve missed the curve of your back, the slope of your hips, the way the light wraps around your skin like it’s worshiping you,” he murmured. “I have faced storms and blood and fire, but nothing—nothing—made me ache the way being away from you did.”
You felt your heart flutter at his words, even as your lips curved playfully. “You’re getting poetic, my love.”
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his crutch, looking at you like a man starved. “Poets are fools. I am simply a man with eyes. And a wife who tortures me with that slow, wicked way she undresses.”
You laughed, finally turning to face him—still shielding your chest with your arms. “So what now, my king? You just watch while I model for you like some Viking nobleman’s pet?”
“Oh, no,” he smirked, eyes raking down your figure. “You’re no pet. You’re a goddess. And I plan to worship you—one dress at a time.”
You rolled your eyes fondly as Ivar held up another dress, this one a deep blue with silver thread glinting along the hem. He looked ridiculously proud of himself.
“I swear, you raided half the known world for fabric,” you muttered, tossing aside a fur-lined cloak to dig through the growing pile.
He didn’t deny it.
“There’s one more,” he said suddenly, voice shifting—deeper, rougher. “A special one.”
You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “Special how?”
He didn’t answer—just leaned back, arms crossed, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.
Curious, you turned back to the chest and dug further beneath the silk, the fine linens, the brocade. Your hand brushed something different—lighter, smoother. You pulled it out slowly, and your brows lifted.
It shimmered in the firelight. The fabric was unlike the others—thin and sheer, a woven gauze of fine-spun flax, likely beaten and softened until it flowed like mist. It wasn’t dyed, but it caught the light with a ghostly glow, like moonlight trapped in cloth. It must’ve come from far in the East, perhaps from some Frankish trader—or stolen from the chest of a nobleman’s bride.
You held it up, and the light bled right through it.
“Ivar,” you breathed, glancing back at him.
His gaze was already on you, dark and burning. “That one,” he said softly, “is not for feasts. Not for festivals. Not for courts or halls.”
You swallowed, heart thudding.
“That one is only for me,” he continued, his voice rough like gravel and smoke. “To be worn in this room. In this firelight. When the gods are asleep and it’s only you and I.”
Your fingers tightened around the delicate cloth. “It’s barely even a dress.”
“It’s enough,” he said, his eyes trailing down your still-bare form. “Enough to drive me mad.”
You looked at it again, then met his eyes, challenging. “And what do I get, if I wear it for you?”
He leaned forward, that half-smile curling his lips—the kind he only wore when he was plotting something. “The devotion of a god. And the ruin of a man.”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Poets are fools, you said.”
“And I am the greatest fool of them all,” he replied, voice soft now. “For you.”
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
. ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ .
Taglist (If you want to get added write/comment) 🎀
Summary: Lagertha's gift of a daughter and Ragnar's monster of a son have loved one another for far too long. But things in Kattegat are fragile, and the two now must make choices.
Warnings: mostly spoilers for S4b
A/n: I had to break this into sections. Trust that p2 is gonna get serious real fast.
Masterlist
........................................
The Seer had been right.
Lagertha would never give Ragnar a son, never bearing one after her Bjorn. But when Earl Kalf came into her life, she suddenly found herself with child.
There was little hope that the child would make it. After all, the Seer said so.
But a daughter?
Lagertha's second chance to make up for the death of her sweet Gyda. She held the babe close.
And yet.
No one predicted that she'd one day end up in the arms of Ivar the Boneless.
…
"It seems like a death sentence," she explained to Ivar. "Suicide, even."
"My father wants me to go," Ivar shrugged. "He needs me. I can't say no to that. To the gods."
She sighed. He was beyond stubborn. A true Ragnarsson trait.
She often traveled between Hedeby and Kattegat, staying with Bjorn when here. It was a strange thing to have her around, but Bjorn was the Prince of Kattegat, so others didn't have much room to question.
Plus, the Ragnarssons didn't mind a bit.
She was neither the daughter of Ragnar or Aslaug, but because of her connection to Bjorn, she was a sister to all five of them.
Well, four of them.
Ivar's love had always gone beyond that. As did hers for him.
"What if you go with Bjorn instead?" She tried. Her hand stretched out over his. "To the Mediterranean."
His head lulled. "My brothers have always doubted me. Not my father. He knows what the gods have in store for me."
"And what if all that is store is your death?"
He ran his tongue across his teeth. "Then I will die."
"Marry me before you go," she rushed out, immediately caving in once it was uttered.
"I will not risk making you a widow before you get to truly be a wife."
She felt tears well up in her eyes. She was never the strong one around. Lagertha swore to have a peaceful reign when she became Earl. There was no need to teach her daughter the hardships of being a shield maiden. She had no need to- Lagertha on one side and Bjorn on the other always. Gyda was so soft. So kind. Y/n was no different, only older. She had a chance to grow up kind.
"Don't cry," Ivar huffed. He had no idea what to do with tears. "I'll be back soon enough."
"Swear to it."
He shook his head. "I will not swear if I don't know the will of the gods."
"Then swear you'll marry me if you return."
He couldn't stop another scoff, "woman-"
"-Ivar, please."
"Ivar!" Aslaug's voice interrupted.
The queen stepped into the room, her worry turning to amusement at the sight of the two. She'd always had an odd relationship with Lagertha. How strange was fate to bring their children together?
"Let me speak to my mother," Ivar gently waved.
Y/n nodded and stood, but her wrist was caught by him. "I swear to it," he remarked, looking her firmly in the eye.
…
Lagertha had come to Kattegat with the help of Torvi and Margerette. She hadn't dragged Y/n into the plans.
So when she took Kattegat, Y/n stood at the sidelines in shock, even letting out a shriek when Aslaug fell to the ground dead.
She wanted to feel betrayed by her mother. She should have. But she couldn't find it in herself. Lagertha had sat on the sidelines for too long as her world was taken away.
So she was torn when Ubbe and Sigurd had come to her privately.
"How are you not angry," Ubbe lectured his brother. "Our mother is dead."
"And it is for the best," Sigurd huffed. "Y/n's mother is the only one around here that knows how to truly mother. Look at Bjorn."
"Y/n?" Ubbe questioned.
She sat with her head in her hands, utterly confused by it all. "I won't choose sides."
"We all know it will come to it eventually."
She lifted her head with a heartbroken look. "Then I side with Bjorn. The side he chooses, I follow."
Ubbe nodded. "Very well. So, we wait for Bjorn."
"No," Sigurd shivered. "We wait for Ivar more."
The three exchanged nervous glances.
…
Ivar had returned first. Carried by soldiers of King Ecbert's guard, he was set onto the wooden dock of Kattegat.
She couldn't muster the strength to go welcome him. He wouldn't find out such devastating news from her.
But the next day, Ivar crawled his way into the feast hall with his picks. The entire room quieted as they waited for what the angry son of Aslaug would say.
His eyes slowly trailed from Lagertha, to Torvi, to Astrid, then finally, Y/n.
She stood to the side, a completely guilty expression strung across her face.
No one was immune to noticing the way his eyes glued themselves to her in every room.
It had been like that since her first visit to Kattegat.
It's what finally drove the stake between Sigurd and Ivar. The love Bjorn had for Y/n that he never had for his own daughter, Siggy. And how Sigurd had loved little Siggy.
Y/n's life was always a comparison to one's already dead. All did it but Ivar. Perhaps that is why she was so content to be stuck in his web.
When Largertha refused Ivar's challenge, he was becoming angrier. He knew his easiest chance to kill her was by hand-to-hand combat. Ivar was a cripple, but a damn good one.
"I will kill you, Lagertha. Your fate is fixed," he growled.
Content with his threat, he looked back to Y/n, pulling a chain from around his neck.
A ring.
She felt something in her stomach twist at the shimmer that crossed her vision. His fingers rubbed over it a few times, egging for a reaction from the girl he promised to marry.
He let the chain drop to his chest with a smirk. Especially when her eyes followed it.
…
As soon as the meeting was adjourned, she rushed out to Ragnar's old cabin. The children had found it when he'd left, and it was their designated space away from the rest of the world. Plus, that was all the boys had to live in now. Ivar would be there.
She rushed in, not caring that the other brothers were gathered around. "Ivar?"
The three others looked at one another with questioning glances before completely packing up and walking out. The brothers weren't about to intervene.
The door closed before Ivar finally spoke. "What do you want?"
"Are you not grateful to be home? To be back? To be the only survivor?" She sat next to him, her voice lowering. "Are you not happy to see me?"
He scoffed, turning away.
"I didn't know, Ivar. I swear to you."
"Seems like we enjoy making swears we don't intend to keep, hm?" He mocked.
Her eyes moved down to the chain again. She sat up straighter and brushed a hand over his chest. Over the ring. "You truly won't marry me now?" She asked softly.
His hand wrapped around her wrist gruffly. But after the initial touch, his grip softened. His jaw was clenched, his anger unchecked. But he couldn't help the flutter that still moved through his chest. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know if I want children with traitor blood."
Her fingers twiddled with the ring. "You know better than I that we don't choose our mothers. The gods do."
"And yet, you'll never help me get my revenge."
"No," she agreed. "I won't."
His eyes wandered over her face. The anger bubbled under his skin. But not at her. And that frustrated him more. "I'll still marry you. But you cannot fault your future husband when he has his revenge."
"But Bjorn will-"
"-That is my offer to you, my love. If you want this ring," he offered, pulling the chain from around his neck and setting it on the wooden table, "Then that is your choice. I have taken my stand. You know what I will do. Will you still marry me?"
She stared down at the jewelry. She'd longed for this for years now. Being his wife.
This could make or break everything.
"I… I don't know," she admitted back to him.
"You don't know?"
"I should wait. For Bjorn to come back. And Hvitserk."
He set a heavy hand on her thigh. Not menacing, but not softly either. "Will you ever choose things for yourself? Or will you wait on Bjorn hand and foot as he decides your fate?"
"Ivar-"
"-No. I do not mind if you must think on it more. But do not do what Bjorn says purely because you think it is right. He makes mistakes." His head tipped down and his gaze turned menacing. "You will choose."
She nodded. "I need time."
"Good," his voice lightened. He even managed a smile. His body leaned forward like he was thinking of kissing her, but he paused and gave a quick nod of his head in acceptance. Then he looked at the ring and her one last time before pulling himself down to the floor and leaving.
She exhaled a long breath, taking the chain and placing it around her neck, tucking it away.
…
Another feast, another problem.
Y/n wasn't far off from Torvi and Astrid, hearing them speak about something being wrong as the large doors closed.
"Like what?" Astrid asked.
"I don't know, but something."
Sigurd let out a small grunt as someone grabbed him from behind and held him at knifepoint. That began a whole group coming forward and grabbing at Lagertha's shield maidens and earls alike, restraining them all.
A hand grabbed Y/n's wrist, holding it out.
Ivar's ring was wrapped around her finger. She'd chosen.
Whoever it was dropped her hand entirely and stepped away from her, meaning she stood amidst the chaos, entirely left alone.
Everyone began to part, and Y/n tucked away towards Sigurd. Her hand grabbed the wrist of the man holding him in an attempt to pry him away.
Ivar and Ubbe approached Lagertha's throne. Lagertha was rather unfazed by it, standing and grabbing her sword slowly. She was a fighter to the end.
Ivar was impressed by her willingness to face him. He sat up with his spike as Ubbe circled around the queen.
The tension could be cut with a knife. Waiting for someone to make the first move.
The door burst open, and in walks Bjorn.
"If you kill her, my brothers," he sauntered, "you'll have to kill me too."
Y/n and Sigurd both let out relieved sighs. The argument was far from over. But with Bjorn there, the fight would not be one-sided.
"Maybe we should," Ivar warned.
"Shut up," Ubbe immediately countered. He respected Bjorn immensely, and starting conflict with Ironside was like starting to dig your own grave. "She killed our mother," he mentioned. Bjorn would see where he was coming from. Surely.
"I know. You want revenge. So would I." He took in a deep breath. "But more importantly, we have to avenge our father. That is why I came back. And that," he tapped his axe against Ivar's cheek, "is what we are going to do."
Lagertha smiled and threw down her sword, prompting the rest to follow.
As Sigurd was let go, Y/n immediately tended to him, rubbing a soft hand over his neck at the irritated skin.
Frustrated, Ubbe and Ivar left.
She was torn between following them and staying with Bjorn and Lagertha.
But after speaking to the new queen, Bjorn spotted her. That made the decision. She approached him, smoothing out her dress as she weaved through everyone.
Within a few minutes, the feast began again like nothing had happened, but Bjorn was still far from jovial.
She wasn't even sure the viking knew what that word meant.
"So, I travel all the way past Frankia, through pirated seas and storms, I keelhaul my own uncle, and still," he grumbles, "things turn to ruin here the moment I turn away."
"Since I watched her sleep with my father the first time they met, yes. Yes, I have," he complained. "But our mother has caused a rift that I'd rather not have now. I have revenge of my own to get and I need my brothers in order to do it."
"You have your brothers," she pointed out. "Of Ragnar's wrongful death, you all agree."
"I will not play guard to mother's kingdom more than I did before. I want to sail. To travel."
"Then don't."
He let out a long sigh. "This is why I love the sea. It is predictable. People are not. Like you," he pointed his cup towards her.
"Like me?"
"You wear a ring and you say nothing about it. You have not asked for my allowance. Let me see it." He held out a large hand, to which she slipped the band off and gave to him.
Bjorn flipped it in his palm a few times before a daunting thought came over him. "Where did you get this?" He questioned roughly. "Who is proposing with this ring? I'll kill him."
"Brother," she scoffed. "Why the sudden rage?"
"Does mother know?" He asked in complete ignorance of her previous question.
"No. No, and she won't. Not right now."
"I'll ask one more time," Bjorn growled, leaning across the table. "Who is proposing with Mother's ring?"
Oh.
Where had Ivar gotten Lagertha's ring?
"Our mother wore this ring until the day she and I left Ragnar. Her wedding band. Now answer the question, sister."
"Give it back, Bjorn." She tried to muster up confidence. It didn't quite work.
Bjorn's lips quirked up at that, all too amused. "I don't think I will. I think I'll hold onto this until you decide to ask for my blessing."
"That is cruel!"
He shrugged. "I don't care. Either you tell me now or he can come get it from me himself."
She let out a tantrum-like grunt and stood up, her chair scrapping against the wood. She weaved through the crowd and finally out into the cold air.
…
The journey was a little harder in the dark than she'd thought. The air was cold and frigid, and she was far from dressed for it. The wind chilled her immensely, traveling down her bones. Her chattering teeth exhaled a visible breath when she saw the cabin.
"Ivar? Ivar!" She called out as she neared.
Hvitserk was the one to come out with a concerned brow raised.
Y/n felt guilty, still not welcoming Hvitserk after the raid. She all but collapsed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and finally relaxing.
Hvitserk froze for a moment. Touch was never his thing. "You miss me?"
"Like hell," she mumbled against his chest.
He chuckled and circled his arm around her. "Already using Christian phrases, hm? Don't let Ivar hear you. Congratulations, by the way."
It was her turn to freeze, her head tilting up until she looked straight up at him. "What?"
"You're to be married, are you not? He said so." At her hum of agreement, he rubbed a hand down her back. "You're freezing, sister. You'll catch a chill if I don't get you inside."
He guided her in. The warm air from their small fire immediately caused a shiver down her body. Hvitserk frowned and held a hand to her forehead. "Gods. I'd think you were half dead like this."
That caught Ivar's attention. His head snapped up, his entire body relaxing at the sight of her. "Did you travel this far like that?" He questioned, his hand motioning to her lack of heavy clothing.
She stepped to the fire, sitting down next to Ubbe. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to transfer some of his heat. After all, he'd been scheming over the flames for a while now. He could afford to give some of the warmth up.
Ubbe gave a small glare to Ivar, effectively telling him to drop the question. "Let me see this ring Ivar said so much about."
Her face dropped. "Oh. I… it's…"
One by one, the siblings realized that something was not quite right and Ubbe should have minded his own business. In all honesty, it was a fair ask. One that usually is fine to ask to an engaged woman.
Ivar let out a long, loud breath. He seethed from his place at the table. "Where is it? I was told it was on your finger only hours ago."
How to explain that Bjorn had taken it without Ivar immediately growing angry? After all, Ironside didn't know that it was Ivar's. It wasn't personal at all. But that's not how Ivar saw things.
"Where is it?" He asked in a firmer tone. His head tilted. His tongue ran over the back of his teeth. "Did someone take it from you?"
"Don't be angry-"
"-No I AM ANGRY!" He yelled. "Tell me yes or no. Have you gone back on your word?"
"Ivar," Ubbe scorned. "Let the woman speak." He pulled a piece of hair from her face. "Go on."
She sniffled and moved closer to the fire to warm her hands. She stared at her ring finger longingly. "I do, Ivar. I want to marry you."
Hvitserk smirked widely, peering at his brother in a tease. His brother. In love.
Ivar exhaled in a hidden form of relief. "Alright."
"I did not tell Bjorn about it yet. I wanted to wait…"
"-But?" Ubbe interrupted.
"But Bjorn saw it before I could." She frowned. "Where did you get Lagertha's ring?"
Every head shot to Ivar in shock.
He shrugged. "Father gave it to me. On our way to Wessex. I told him that we would marry when I returned and he gave me the ring. Chain and all. He said he'd worn it around his neck since the day your mother left him."
• ivar who looks at you like this when you choose him over his brothers.
• ivar who’s so hopelessly in love with you he simply doesn’t know how to handle it
• ivar who gets cuteness aggression when you play with his hair and it ends up with you both in absolute disarray in the bedsheets
•ivar who just loves you so much and would do anything you ask
• ivar who touches you in public, his chest swelling ever so slightly when someone compliments you
• ivar who’s incredibly possessive and has deep insecurities when you are chatting with another man, practically biting through his tongue as he watches silently and then making a big scene, “wife!” he would shout over and turn your attention to him, always needing you to be by his side
• ivar who appreciates your care, who is bashful when you both bathe together and who gets stiff and shy when you massage his muscles and slowly talks to you about not being enough, about how he feels inadequate as a man and unworthy of your love while you just quietly shush him and assure him that he is more than enough
• ivar who cant go mere hours without seeing you, who becomes secretly taut with fear when he has to ease his violent tendencies, his mind always thinking of his pretty wife on sleepless nights
• ivar the boneless, the fearless, violent man who just is putty for his little wife and wishes for nothing more than to be by your side forever and spend eternity with you in valhalla
Summary: Ivars brothers realise why Ivar loves you
Ivar and Vikings taglist: @min-aaa @tessakate @slytherinmates
✨My requests are open! Read the pinned post!✨
Being asked to dine with Ivar in the great hall meant that he was finally ready for the everyone to know you’re his. Though you’d been seeing each other for quite a few months now, neither of you had gone public with your relationship.
The reason seemed to be a mix of protecting you from judgement, and Ivar wanting to keep you all to himself.
Of course his brothers had worked out that there was something going on, and eventually came to the conclusion that it was a lady. Tonight, they finally were able to meet you.
They were surprised by just how beautiful you are and with how gently you treated their brother. They were quick to conversation with you, and even quicker to become protective over you. They’d never be as protective as Ivar, but they quickly viewed you as apart of the family.
As the night went on, the hall started to get more and more rowdy. Neither you nor Ivar minded, far too swept up in each others company. That was until a drunk voice cut across the room like a blade, and striking both Ivar and yourself.
“Fine! But if I win! I get the cripples woman!”
The man was obviously a drunk coward, too blinded by his gambling and drink to notice his volume.
The whole hall went silent immediately and all eyes landed on Ivar as he glared at the man. Everyone waited for Ivar to react, the whole room too tense to even breath. The drunken man now realising his mistake began to stammer and apologise, cowering away from Ivars intense glare.
Before Ivar could make a move to shout or attack, however, you were on your feet, ready to address not just the man, but the whole room.
“It is not the prince you should apologise to, it is me,” Ivars eyes went wide and his heart raced with both love and desire, “I am not livestock to be bartered and traded! I am a human being and you will treat me as such!”
Your voice rose to yell at the man, but quickly realising your surroundings, it became quieter, but no less dangerous.
“Now you will leave here or I will have someone escort you out.”
Nothing further needed to be said, as the man scurried away.
Ivars eyes couldn’t leave your face, not even as his brothers also stared in awe.
As the night went on, Ivar found himself growing more and more in love with you.
Hi lovely, I want to request Ivar from Vikings! I hope that's okay, if not, that'll be totally fine! 🤗
I wanna request Ivar x saxon reader who came to Kattegat as a slave and who was sold to Lagertha. In her hometown she was forced to wear a blindfold made of black lace so no one could see her eyes because they were deemed as demonic from the church. Like her eyes are really crystalline and were unsettling for Christians, and she continues to wear it even in Kattegat. Perhaps the young Rangarsson finds himself to wonder about her and one day a jealous woman rips it from her face during a festive in the main hall when she was serving ivar...?
I know it's a lot but I've been thinking about this all week. 😭✨ Thank you so much!
Angel eyes
summary: Ivar thinks your eyes must be Gods-sent.
warnings: Margrethe being Margrethe, vikings scaring reader, Ivar being Ivar.
ch3rrybbie says: love the request bby, I changed it a lil hope you don’t mind🩷 sorry it took so long lol
———
It’s been three whole moons away from England. Away from the cruelty you knew, but that cruelty was yours. It was home.
Kattegat wasn’t too dissimilar to England but it wasn’t the same.
You trudged through the thick mud of the central market. People didn’t stare at you and you reveled in the anonymity. The thin cotton you always wore around your eyes shielding your oddities was nothing to the people of Kattegat and you had grown to love it during the few days you’d spent here.
Lagethera had brought you along wanting to show you the ways of her culture. After being sold to her she declared you free yet you refused,you would not settle to a life here. You wished to serve her in hopes you could make enough money to flee home.
Slave to handmaiden.
Handmaiden to home.
You refused to learn to fight, to speak her tongue comfortably, to like the viking life. The foolish hope of home held strong within you. And yet you knew you’d never return to England you’d seen what they’d done to the village of those who’d ostracised and belittled you. Luckily your family was away selling the spoils of their labour at market.
They would’ve come back to an empty village stinking of death. The thought makes your heart clench and your steps falter.
Lagertha had playfully commanded you go out and see Kattegat, to see her ex-husbands lands. And to bring her seawater, its purpose left you clueless but you obeyed.
The heathens were strange people after all.
And yet your own had forced you to learn to squint through your blindfold to see shapes and sounds.
To live life veiled.
———
Lagertha was repulsed by the idea. The Christian rigidity that had left you believing in the need to hide your eyes.
She watched you from afar, leant against the entrance of the great hall. You were a sweet girl yet you could be so much more.
And she would see to it.
Ragnar follows her gaze, “what is so special about this slave anyways?”
Lagertha’s head whips towards him, “she is no slave Ragnar, she is blessed by the Gods”
Ragnar’s laugh almost shakes the great hall itself, he walks off still chuckling.
———
Later as the moon begins its race to the crest of the sky you braid Lagertha’s hair. The bucket of seawater stuck out in the corner.
“Why did you ask for the seawater?” You break the gentle silence and she turns smiling at you softly.
“Bring it here” she gestures towards it a sly smirk emerging upon her face.
Standing in front of her seawater at hand she starts to command you.
“Smell it”
“Taste it”
“Feel it”
You end up giggling at the foolish tasks until she asks.
“What is the difference between this seawater and England’s?”
The smile drops from your face and you set the bucket down and return to your tasks bring her dress to ready her for the great feast.
“My sweet girl this is your fate do not run from it, you will come to love Kattegat as much as England as there isn’t much difference”.
“To you, there isn’t much difference to you, my lady” the words bite bitterly at her.
She sighs and you step back from her outstretched arms. You didn’t understand her fondness of you.
“We must go to the hall” you turn on your heel and march into the frosty air, she follows carefully.
———
You pause outside, the noise reminding you of the nights spent around a fire at home.
Perfumed with smoke and stories of old.
You shake the thought away and wait for Lagertha. She come to you a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently.
“You ready?”, you nod and clench you fists at your sides as she pushes the door open.
Truth is you’d never be ready for a feasting hall full of vikings.
“Mother!” A thundering voice cuts through the rowdy masses.
Bjorn comes thumping over sweeping Lagertha into a crushing hug. Once their greetings are finished he turns to you inquisitively
“And who is this little birdy mother” you manage to grasp from your basic understanding of their tounge.
He reaches to peek under your eye covering and instinctively you slap his hand away. Your breath catches as you wait to be struck to the ground.
Instead a sharp laugh cuts at your action you turn to see someone with eyes almost as striking as yours. He regards you a cruel smile and glaringly sharp beauty confronts you. You hold back a gasp and turn from his gaze. Bjorn is also bellowing out a laugh.
“I am sorry bird, ignore Ivar” he plants a kiss on his mother’s cheek and is gone into the crowd of hedonism.
It was going to be a long night.
———
Refusing to sit by Lagertha’s side you stood ignoring the curious looks from Aslaug.
You couldn’t stop thinking about Ivar. It was so strange, he didn’t seem to mock you.
“Hello birdy” a gruff tease voice floats out behind you.
You whip round to see a man that looks exactly like an older Bjorn, Ragnar you conclude.
“Why do you stand here all alone, hmm? Lagertha tells me you are a free woman, here free woman can do as they please you should try it!” He chuckles and it takes you aback, he doesn’t know you yet he treats you like he has for years.
You don’t speak and turn to watch the crowds further, eyes searching for Ivar.
He’s looking right back at you, with a gasp you turn away.
“You know, I had a friend like you once” Ragnar whispers, voice taught with emotion. The pain in his voice pulls you from thoughts of Ivar.
At that you turn and take him in. Towering next to you he looks deep in grief. Eyes watery and gone to distant memories, you recognise it all too well.
“I’m sorry for your loss” you murmur, their language is crude and harsh on your tounge.
Your voice pulls him back, he grabs your shoulder and thanks you with a smile.
And once again you’re alone amongst heathens.
———
“Girl! Come serve me wine” a voice throws its self against you cutting through the bustle of the hall.
Ivar.
“Ivar do not command her like that!” Lagertha bites at him.
You frown at her remark and make your way over.
Aslaug is watching you as though you are a mirage, you ignore her stares and focus on the task at hand.
“She is no servant, please sit down” Lagertha implores you and you ignore her, Ragnar watches on curiously.
Fingers clasping over the mead jug you come closer towards Ivar ignoring the way he drinks you in.
“Surely she’s just a servant” a pretty blonde remarks from a group of boys, the rest of Ragnar’s sons you presume.
“You will watch your tongue upon my mother’s friend Margrethe” Bjorn booms at her, seemingly tired of her presence.
Lagertha frown and you lean to pour Ivar more mead.
“Thank you” he grins up at you, ignoring him you turn to be met by Margrethe.
“Why do you wear that silly cloth on your face?” She giggles and takes you in.
Everyone watches with bated breath.
Someone cuts out her name as another warning.
Attempting to step past her you don’t make it far.
“Here let me help you slave”
Her nails scrape against your skin, harsh in its endeavour.
The room brightens and grows in life as you see it more clearly.
An outraged roar emerges as Margrethe is chastised greatly. Everyone turns to look and the same whispers you’ve heard your whole life break out.
“Blessed Freya” sounded in a wave of murmurs.
The seer shuffles over parting the crowd and you retreat slowly. His interest peaked at such an odd display.
“My child you are kissed by the Gods, you shall see to their vision” his words curl through the fog of fear.
Embarrassed you flee the hall into the icy night and collapse in a heap by the fjord.
Finally you have peace.
They hadn’t cast curses or spat at your feet. They were almost reverent in their discovery of you. Perhaps they truly believe you were someone sent or blessed by their heathen Gods.
A repetitive click and shuffle sounds behind you and you whip around to see Ivar approaching. Embarrassed you turn back to look at the still waters, struggling to think upon his intentions. He groans as he lowers himself aside you.
“You know you didn’t have to run off so quick birdy” he chuckles cruelly
“You would do well not to mock me” you bite back and he simply laughs in your face.
“Maybe you really are sent by the Gods, no other woman in the whole of Kattegat would speak to me this way” he seems to grow serious and take you in.
Fixated on your eyes he stares into them, “They really are beautiful you should not cover them anymore, I command it so”.
“You command it so!” You can’t help exclaim incredulous. Dragged from home and commanded by the bratty son of a king.
“Yes I command it so!” He giggles and watches your perplexed face. You resort back to silence and the pair of you just sit there until he coaxes you to talk of England.
So you do.
You tell him of its fields and wildflowers. How the moon feels different and the sun is sweeter. How the grass will always be greener to you and the songs louder.
And for once he just listens and he knows you were meant for him. Every laugh and lilt makes his heart climb. Without telling you he makes a prayer to the Gods commanding you be by his side every day till death do you part. That you may tell him what you please and speak how no woman ever had to him.
And for the first time you’d found something wholly dissimilar to England and you wouldn’t compare it for all the homesickness in your heart. You could not have found Ivar in England. You would never have found the appreciation of your beauty there.
With the intermission of his laugh at your tales, you thank his Gods and yours for kissing your eyes.
———
Lagertha and Ragnar watch your silhouettes from the mouth of the great hall. They needn’t speak the thoughts they share but they know the nights they’d spent together talking till the sun kissed the fjord had seemingly come to life in front of them.
Summary: After being captured by the Vikings your prayers to god remain unanswered, as you come to realize they always have. An intriguing Viking man teaches you of their ways, and all your prayers are answered. (No language barrier & Ragnar is unmarried for the sake of the story).
Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smuttt, maybe some fluff, loss of virginity, outdoor p in v, fingering, oral (f), angst, kidnapping/violence/raiding in opening story, possible spoilers.
I’m very into Norse spirituality so I loved writing this
Word count: 3.7k
masterlist
Everyone in the city moves in a panic as the bells ring, alarms in response to the Northmen pulling up to your shores. You find a spot in your house to hide and clutch your cross close to your chest as you pray to god to protect you from these heathens.
A bang startles you as a Viking man kicks down your door. Your heart races as you hear him tearing apart the house searching for valuables. You hear screams outside and continue whispering prayers to god begging him to keep you from being found.
The Viking eventually finds you hiding in a corner between your bed and the wall. Your heart stops when his bright blue eyes meet yours. His eyes examine you from head to toe before he smirks.
“Please… please don’t kill me.” You beg through oncoming tears. “Take whatever you want, just please.”
“Come.” He reaches his hand out for you to take.
You look up at him with furrowed brows in confusion.
“You said I can take whatever I want.” The man says. “So come.”
“No, no, please. Please don’t hurt me…” You cry.
“If you come with me, I will have no reason to hurt you.” He steps closer. “Otherwise…” He gestures to the axe in his hand.
You sniffle as you get up onto your feet. The Viking gestures his hand out to you again which you reluctantly take. He rushes out of the house, dragging you along with him. A small shriek escapes you as your eyes take in the dead bodies and blood everywhere. The man pays no mind to any of it as he pulls you through the city and leads you right out the front gates and into their Viking camp.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” A large Viking man with long dark hair approaches you. You pull away as he tries to brush hair from your face.
“Leave her be.” Your captor says as more of the men come over to ogle at you.
“Why? She is a useless Christian. Only good for one thing...” The man smirks at you.
“She is mine, keep your hands to yourself Rollo.” Your captor replies. “That goes for all of you! No one touches her, she belongs to me.”
You take a small breath of relief before your captor grabs your hand again and leads you far from the group and into a tent.
“Sit.” The man gestures to a small cot. “What is your name?”
“(y/n).” You say as you sit.
“(y/n)…” He hums. “Interesting name. I’m Ragnar Lothbrok.”
“Thank you Ragnar.” You say lowly.
“For what?”
“Out there, protecting me from the other men…” You respond. “And I guess… thank you for not killing me.”
“Like I said to the men, you are mine. They will not harm you as long as you are with me, understand?”
You nod your head.
“What are you going to do with me?” You ask.
He smirks in response before looking you up and down, making you nervous.
“I have not decided yet.” He shrugs with a smirk still on his face.
**********
The journey back to their land was long and dreadful. You had never been on a boat before and the ride made you nauseous. Ragnar kept a close eye on you and made sure no one bothered you.
As soon as they dock Ragnar quickly sneaks you away like he is trying to hide you. He leads you to his small farmhouse outside of town.
“Am I your slave now?” You ask once inside.
He laughs at your response and you scowl.
“I have no need for slaves.” He shrugs.
“If you wish to cook or clean for me, or do other things…” He smirks at you suggestively, making you blush. “I would certainly not object, but you will not be forced to do anything.”
“So I am not a slave… but I am not a free woman?” You question.
“Yes.” He simply responds.
“Then why am I here?”
“I do not know. The gods have not revealed your purpose to me yet.”
“There is only one god.” You say sternly.
He laughs again making anger rise in your cheeks.
“Maybe your god will reveal to you your purpose then.” He says teasingly.
**********
The next couple days were surprisingly peaceful. You did not dare to try and leave the house. Although he never asked you to, you cooked and cleaned mostly to have something to occupy your time but Ragnar appreciated you either way. He would disappear for most of the day to god knows where, but when he returned you would have a hot meal waiting for him.
Ragnar would ask many questions, about your life and your god. You asked about him in return and he told you all about his adventures and of his gods.
“Are you a virgin?” Ragnar asks out of nowhere while you are eating supper.
You choke on your drink, the question taking you off guard.
“Pardon?”
“Well, you are unmarried right?” He continues. “I have heard Christians remain virgins until they are married.”
“Well, um, yes. It would be a sin otherwise.” You respond shyly.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is it a sin?” He asks with curiosity in his tone.
“I- um, I don’t know. It’s just a sin. You should only make children with your husband or wife.”
“Well, that is a bit silly isn’t it?”
“What is so ‘silly’ about that?” You scowl.
“Because making children is not the only reason to have sex.” He shrugs.
“What do you mean?” You ask, heat rising in your cheeks from annoyance and another feeling you couldn’t quite place.
“Do they teach you nothing?” He raises his brow.
“Not really… especially us women. They keep us sheltered from everything.”
“Well,” He says, taking the food bowl from your hands and placing it down.
He leans towards you until his breath brushes your ear, sending shivers up your spine.
“Sex can provide you with the greatest of pleasures…” He says lowly in your ear, your heart races. “If you know where to touch.” His fingers graze up your knee.
“Your gods… they do not care if you sin?” You ask but it comes out as a whisper.
He chuckles.
“To our gods, it is not wrong. The gods gave us the gift of such pleasure, why would they deny us from taking it?” He shrugs.
“I guess that is true…” You whisper.
“I can show you our ways, if you want.” He says with a devilish grin, moving his hand back to your knee.
“What? No. No I- Um, no… thank you.” You stutter, taken aback by his offer.
“Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me.” He whispers in your ear before standing and cleaning up from supper.
You go to bed early, trying to hide your flushed cheeks since your conversation. Ragnar eventually begins to lightly snore from the next room that was only separated by a thin wall with gaps you could see through. His words replay in your head, “greatest of pleasures if you know where to touch.”. Curiosity gets the better of you as you lightly trace your fingers along your neck and collarbone, the feeling creating goosebumps. Without even realizing, you start imagining Ragnar’s hand as yours travels lower. You grab onto your breast before your hand continues down. Your fingers tease at the hem of your pants before slowly moving down into them. You lightly touch the sensitive skin and it sends a jolt through you making you gasp louder than intended. You hear Ragnar stir in the next room and you quickly pull your hand from your pants as you look to him, still asleep. You sigh and try to get comfortable to sleep. Everything that has happened within the last few days has left you so lost and confused. You have been praying to god every day but nothing changes, nothing reassures you and what you are supposed to do in this place. Your mind continues to race until sleep eventually pulls you under.
**********
“I would like to go into the mountain to pray.” You say to Ragnar.
“Why? So you can run away?” He gives you a teasing scoff.
You can’t hide the small laugh that escapes your lips.
“You know I would not make it very far without you.” You roll your eyes at him. “Besides, I need you to show me the way.”
“Alright then… perhaps tomorrow.” He shrugs.
“No, today.” You push. “Right now… please.”
You were desperate to have a moment of solitude and a private moment speak to god.
“Very well, we should go now while the sun is still high.” Ragnar says as he heads towards the door, you stand and follow after him.
He leads you up the hills of the forest until you reach a clearing facing the water. The stunning view took your breath away.
“I… I need to be alone.” You say to Ragnar.
“Do not try to escape.” He winks at you. “I will be just down this hill when you are done.”
You give him a grateful smile and you watch him walk away until he is out of sight. Turning back to face the edge of the cliff, you close your eyes take a deep breath as you feel the breeze brush across your face. You crouch to the ground onto your knees and bring your hands together in prayer.
“Heavenly father… Please help me to find my path. I feel so lost in this unfamiliar world and do not know what I am to do next or who I am meant to be now… And I feel… as if my prayers to protect and watch over me have gone unanswered, especially when I was taken by these people.” You pray with tears coming to your eyes. “Please god, if you are there, if you are watching over me… if you are real… please send me a sign.”
You open your eyes and watch for any sort of sign that your god is with you. Nothing happens.
“Please, give me any sign so I know you are watching over me as I have always believed.”
You wait again, and wait, and wait. The world was still, not even a stronger gust of wind to show a possible sign from god.
You drop your hands into your lap in defeat. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks until an idea crosses your mind. You breathe out a laugh to yourself feeling a bit silly for what you were about to try. You bring your hands back together but instead have a strange urge to connect to the earth. You bow, reaching your hands forward into the ground, feeling the dirt and grass between your fingers.
“Odin…” You close your eyes and begin, whispering so quietly it’s nearly silent. “Freyja… Thor… Please hear me. Hear my prayers. Help me, guide me, to who I am supposed to be now… what I am supposed to do.”
Suddenly, a raven lets out a loud ‘caw’ startling you. Your head shoots up and you look to the bird watching you from a rock to your side. Your heart races and your eyes go wide as you watch each other. A tickle on your hand makes you look down to see a white butterfly that landed on you. You lift your hand to admire it and it flies around your head before flying away, at the same time the raven flies off with it.
As your brain tries to comprehend the unmistakeable signs that the pagan gods are answering your prayers, you hear a rumble of thunder. The skies turn grey within a matter of seconds before rain suddenly begins to pour down. You stand and let out a laugh of disbelief as you spread your arms wide and look to the sky as you let out a heavy breath of relief. The rain washed over your entire being, cleansing you of your troubles. It felt like a different kind of baptism, a rebirth.
“(y/n)?” You hear Ragnar call from behind you.
You turn to him with a wide smile on your face. He noted how beautiful you were when you smiled like that, he realized he had never seen more than a faint one cross your lips.
“Are you alright?” He smiles back at you. “We should head back. Thor’s wrath may become brutal soon if we remain all the way out here.”
“No, he is speaking to me.” You smile, making Ragnar’s brows furrow in confusion.
“Your gods… the gods…” You continue. “They answered my prayers…”
“So, suddenly you believe in our gods now?” He teases. “And what of your god?”
“The Christian god has never answered my prayers. Never even given a small sign he is with me.” You explain. “I prayed to Odin, and a raven appeared… Freyja, a white butterfly landed on my hand the same moment… and Thor…” You gesture to the skies the rain continues to pour down from.
You walk closer to Ragnar.
“I want to teach me your ways…” You say lowly.
“All of our ways?” He smirks, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“All of your ways…” You say as you move even closer until your noses brush.
He traces his finger up your neck, making you shiver. His finger continues to move along your jaw before he gently lifts your chin, making your eyes meet his piercing blue ones. “Are you sure about that?” He says with his classic devilish smirk.
Instead of responding you bring your lips to his, which was answer enough. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back hungrily, a small growl escaping him. He cups your cheeks as the rain pours down on you both, the kiss is wet and passionate. His tongue demands entrance to your mouth and you let him take the lead, following along a little awkwardly. His hands move from your face down to your hips as he pulls you against him. The hardness pushing against your stomach makes you gasp.
“Do you wish to return to the house…” Ragnar whispers, against your lips before kissing you again.
“No… I want you to take me right here… under the eyes of Thor and all the gods watching over us…” You whisper back, bringing your hand to his cheek.
Your words light a fire in Ragnar as your eyes meet in an intense gaze. He reaches out and begins to slowly pull at the strings of your dress. His eyes watch yours carefully, as if daring you to stop him. You would do no such thing. Once the ties were loose you let him pull the dress off your shoulders, completely exposing your breasts. They instantly perk up in the cold chill of the rain, droplets of water falling down your skin. A moan escapes you as he leans down and takes one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nipple. Your entire body felt aflame. You welcomed every cold raindrop that touches your heated skin.
His sinful tongue continues to explore down your stomach until he’s on his knees in front of you. You look down at him with lust filled eyes as pulls down the skirts of your dress, leaving you completely bare for him. His gaze meets yours as he squeezes your thighs hard and gives you a smirk.
“Ragnar what are you-“
Your words are cut off when his tongue licks your most intimate area. You gasp and whine as he begins to messily eat you. Your legs shake and wobble as you try to hold onto his shoulders.
“Ragnar I can’t…” You breathe.
He could sense you were barely able to hold yourself up. In one swift movement he hooks your legs over his shoulders and you yelp as he lifts you up. His tongue does not stop working at your bundle of nerves as he walks you over to a tree. You lean your back against the rough bark. The feeling of him was so overwhelming that you hardly felt the tree scratching at your skin. He ate you ravenously like a man starved. Your hands quickly find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, he grunts against you in response. You pant as you look up to the grey rainy skies, the entire moment felt like a dream. A knot begins to tighten in your stomach and your vision starts to blur. Ragnar dips his tongue into your entrance and that is your undoing. You scream out as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head. You would be worried about hurting him but you could swear you felt him grinning against you as his tongue works you through your orgasm.
Ragnar carefully lowers you back to the ground, you feel both your body and your mind come back down to earth. You shiver as he lays you down on the cold wet ground. He removes his now soaked shirt before climbing over you and capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, you moan at the taste yourself as your tongues dance together.
He stands again to quickly remove his pants, your eyes widen at his length before he climbs back on top of you.
“Are you certain?” Ragnar asks lowly, noticing your worried expression.
“Yes but… I don’t think it will fit…” You whisper shyly.
He gives a cocky chuckle before he begins kissing on your neck.
“It will.” He mumbles against your skin.
You feel him rub his length against your core making you whine and buck your hips in response.
“So eager.” He smirks.
He slowly begins pushing in making you grimace in pain. You instantly question his reassurance that it will fit.
“Shh,” Ragnar tries to soothe you.
His lips move back to your neck kissing, sucking and biting, trying his best to distract you from the pain. You moan at the feeling before he pushes right through the barrier and you gasp loudly. Ragnar groans loudly as he feels you squeezing tightly around him like a vice. You pant heavily with tears in your eyes as you adjust to his size. He does not move until you’re ready, then he starts pushing in and out slowly. The pain soon fades and you wrap your legs around him, forcing him deeper into you.
“Please…” You breathe out.
“Please what?” Ragnar whispers directly in your ear, making you shudder.
“More…”
“More what?” He teases you.
“Ragnar, please.” You groan in frustration. “Faster. Harder. Give me more.”
He smirks before finally obliging your wishes and starts pounding into you relentlessly. You quickly begin to see stars as your second orgasm washes over you and you cry out his name. Ragnar slows his pace once you have hit your peak.
“So this is…” You pant. “This is how Vikings… fuck?”
“We fuck however we want to.” He says as he kisses your neck, still hard inside you. “Viking women enjoy riding their men like wild horses.” He mumbles against your skin, like a challenge.
“Then I shall do that…” You say as you sit up and force Ragnar onto his back.
Ragnar’s eyes widen as you move to straddle him.
“I shall ride you like a wild horse.” You look down and meet his eyes, fire in your eyes and a devilish smirk on your lips. “I shall fuck you like a true Viking woman.”
He does not take his eyes off you for one second as you start to sink back down onto his cock, causing your mouth to drop at the feeling. Being new to all of this, you awkwardly try to bounce up and down until Ragnar grips your hips and guides you to move them back and forth.
“Oh…” You moan, eyes rolling back.
You follow his direction and rock your hips back and forth, increasing the speed. The position sends tingles through your entire body. Ragnar watches you in amazement, taking in every inch of your wet naked body as your beautiful moans ring in his ears. His hands move from your hips to grab your breasts and you ride him harder in approval, earning a groan from him.
You still felt like you were dreaming. You had lived such a strict sheltered life and felt so trapped for so long… But as the grey clouds swirl above you and the rain pours down over your shamelessly naked body, as you ride this god of a man who made your entire body vibrate with life, as you cried out loud enough for the gods to hear, as your prayers had finally been answered and your path now clear, as you feel your very souls connect. For the first time in your entire life… you felt free.
Your peak hits you even more intense than any time before, zings of pleasure radiate throughout your entire being. You felt yourself cry out Ragnar’s name but the sudden crack of lightning in the distance completely drowned out the sound. Your eyes shot open and you caught a glimpse of the fast line of lighting across the mountains at the same moment you came. Ragnar digs his fingers hard into your hips as he finds his own release. A loud rumble of thunder booms as he chokes out a moan. In that moment you felt so tremendously powerful, like a you were a god and goddess.
As you come down from your high the rain suddenly becomes much lighter. Panting, you look down at Ragnar who’s grinning smugly up at you. You give him a smirk back before leaning down and capturing his lips in a hungy kiss, your tongue instantly demands entrance and Ragnar happily obliges, moving his hand to your cheek as he eagerly kisses you back.
You roll off of him onto the wet grass, the rain now stopping completely. You felt so wild and free you that had no care about the mud that had gotten all over you.
“So…” Ragnar huffs, still catching his breath. “You really believe in our gods now?”
“They answered my prayers…” You respond, also panting. “It is hard to deny their existence after all of that.”
Ragnar just grins at you.
“We should get cleaned up.” He says as he stands, lending a hand to help you up.
As you stand he pulls you into a quick passionate kiss.
