#king!ivar

[come-with-me-and-imagine]

Legs (Ivar Soulmate Series) Part 10

Ivar waisted no time letting the council spread the word of the Queens pregnancy. The kingdom rejoiced and held celebrations to offer praise to the gods to keep their beloved Queen and the baby in good health. Ivar himself also made sacrifices to his gods. He prayed and prayed for the good health of his child.   

Each day the Queens belly grew and grew. Ivar found himself laying there holding and caressing her belly when their child became rambunctious. “Shhhh my little one. You are hurting your mother.” he would chide softly as he caressed the skin. “Let your mother rest now.” He kissed her belly as his beloved’s hand would run through his hair. It was a peaceful time where all Ivar had to worry about was taking care of his wife and a few offenders in the kingdom. 

However, their happiness wasn’t to last. War started brewing as a rival king wanted to conquer their home. His reasoning? He wanted to show the people that Ivar was not as strong of a king as they had been lead to think he was. Yet, was the rival king didn’t know, was that Ivar was a cunning strategist. He would spend hours in the war room with the council and the captains. His eyes scanned the map of their lands. Many would question what the king was thinking of for he wouldn’t speak for minutes on end. Only then would he tell them of his plan, and it shocked them just how good he was. With the plans in place, the army began to assemble. 

(Y/N) was worried about the oncoming battle. What if Ivar never came back? What would happen? A few tears fell down her face as she sat on the bed holding her belly. “my love?” Came the voice of her husband. She turned and quickly walked into his arms. “(Y/N) what is it?” He asked now becoming concerned. His hands cupped her jaw and made her look up at him. “My love, tell me of your troubles...” 

“I am so afraid my love. What if you never come back?” She asked as her tears kissed Ivar’s hands. Ivar only smiled at her.  

“Such faith you have in me my little wife.” he teased gently as he kissed her softly. “Do not worry so much my heart. I am of a warring people. War and fighting are what we do. I swear to you, I will always come back to you. But I am also King now, I must be there with my people and fight with them.” 

“I know..” she sniffled. “And I will be here helping our people here. For I am Queen.” 

“Exactly. A Queen who is stronger than many women I have met.” He kissed her again lovingly. “I love you my heart. More than you will ever understand.” He kissed her again and again before holding her tight. Slowly he knelt before his wife and caressed her belly. “You must take good care of your mother. Be a good child for your father.” He kissed her belly before standing again. “I will return to you both. Just be strong for me my love.” 

She smiled softly as their hands slid away from one another. Ivar the King was now Ivar the Boneless once more. The fierce warrior was coming back to fight again.  

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[pokeasleepingsmaug]

Thank you to the lovely @shesafreesoul for sharing this wonderful idea with me! I hope it lives up to the story in your head! And I know @underthenorthstar was thinking of taking a shot at this story, too, and I hope you will! This is such an awesome framework that can go in so many directions, and I love your work. I would love to see what you make of this!

This will be only the first of many parts, and this is probably more of a prologue than anything else. It’s one of my first times attempting a longer multipart fic on purpose (usually I just do unplanned part 2s haha), so please let me know what you guys think so far! I’m always looking to improve my storytelling :) It also doesn’t have a title yet, since I suck at titles. I’m so excited for this, and I really hope it turns out like I hope it will!

Ivar studied the map carefully. “Do we know the outcome of the raid on this town yet?” He pointed to a spot near the far border of the kingdom that bordered his. “They are a small kingdom and we should have no problem defeating them, especially while the troops are off on this raid. If we move quickly, we can probably get there before them and seize their throne. But if their troops come back flush with victory, it will be harder. Still, I am not worried.”

His brother Ubbe shook his head. “We have heard nothing yet, Ivar.” Ubbe had long ago given up his claim on the kingship, stating plainly that he had no desire for ruling. He knew Ivar would be a better leader, more cunning and fearless, but he was happy to help whenever Ivar called upon him. He was the staunchest of Ivar's friends, but he was happiest on his farm, with his wife Margarethe and their three small children. He was a simple, honest man who loved the feeling of accomplishment after a good day's work. But still, Ivar knew, sometimes he itched for battle, for the heady rush of power brought by taking a life, and he always came to fight at Ivar's side.

Ivar clasped a fond hand on his older brother's shoulder, nodding. “I have made my decision. We leave immediately, and with luck we will reach their city in two days time.” He wrinkled his brow, thinking. “Do we have word of where the princess is?”

Ubbe thought for a moment. “No. Do you remember when she came to Kattegat with her father when she was young? She was very lovely, and probably long since married off. She is no concern, I am almost certain. If she were, we would have heard of her by now.”

Ivar nodded, satisfied. “Good. We leave as soon as possible. Tell the chieftains.” Ubbe strode off, leaving Ivar alone in the great hall of Kattegat. He drained the horn of mead sitting by his elbow and glanced at the rough map one more time. His brother Bjorn who ruled over another neighboring kingdom had drawn it for him. Ever since he discovered the map of the Mediterranean, Bjorn had taken to exploring and drawing maps of the places he found. His sketches were crude, since his strong hands were made for swinging swords, and because he had never learned to draw as a child, not really. But still they were helpful, and Ivar was happy his wandering brother had taken the time to make it for him.

He lowered himself to the floor, crawling to the chamber behind the hall where he kept his weapons. His leather armor was there, polished and gleaming with oil, smooth and supple to the touch. He loved the feel of all things to do with battle—the way the handle of his favorite ax melded to his grip, the reassuring weight of his armor, the spray of blood on his face. He sighed longingly. He was a little past his middle twenties now, and he had learned in the three or so years of his kingship to hide the bloodlust and the clever anger beneath a veneer of reason. He liked to think it made him even more dangerous than before—the impetuous, ill-tempered boy had grown into a wise, canny ruler. But still those things hummed ever in his blood, reminding him of who he really was. The need to prove himself still whispered in his mind, even though his people were happy under his rule.

He led them on raids every summer, throwing gold and silver at his men like he himself hated the precious metals, and they prospered. They fought for him happily, their taste for battle and for riches and glory satisfied, but still Ivar found himself wanting more. More land, more men. It was time not just for raids, but to lead an army of conquest like he and his brothers had in Wessex. This time, though, it was only himself in charge, and he rather liked that feeling of control. Nobody to fight with, nobody to question his wisdom. Only Ubbe, who was ever honest with him. Of all his brothers, he loved and respected Ubbe the most.

He pulled his leather armor down from its peg and drew it on, tightening the straps to make it fit like a second skin. He felt the most at home in his armor, more himself than any other time in his life. He strapped his shield over his back, running a hand over the beautiful knotwork painted around the edge. It had saved his life countless times, painted by the clever fingers of his friend Floki. Next to come to his hand was his favorite ax, the one he had carried into every battle. The handle had molded itself to his grip, simply becoming a part of him over the years. He also strapped a sword to his hip. Although he much preferred his ax, he could wield a sword at least as well as any other man, and besides he liked carrying many weapons. A dagger was the next, strapped to his thigh. He had a bow and a quiver full of straight, fine arrows, too. They would sit beside him in his chariot.

A dangerous man, a skilled fighter proficient with all the weapons a man might need on the field of battle, and a large army loyal to him and him alone. Yes, this kingdom would be easy to conquer. A flash of anticipation shocked through him as he went to check his horse and chariot. He was eager to be off.

[come-with-me-and-imagine]

Legs (Ivar Soulmate Series) Part 11

(Listening to Corvus Corax--Bretonischer Marsch to help set the mood of this.)

The battle raged on and Ivar led his troops through the fighting like a seasoned warrior. Swords clanking and shields blocking blows as war cries echoed through the field. Ivar himself was a source of inspiration to his men. With the new found power in his legs, Jonah had been indeed correct, he was now a completely new man. He was deadlier, sharper, fiercer..he was a true Viking now.   

His legs carried him along that battlefields as his sword and ax slashed, blocked, and he cut down his enemy just as his father had done. If his father could see him now, would he weep with joy at seeing his baby boy fighting like a man? Would his mother weep with joy seeing her son standing on his own two feet? Would his brothers raise a war cry for him as they watched him fight with such ferocity in defending what was now his? He was fighting for them.  

His mother, father, his brothers...his beloved wife who now carried their unborn child. These men were his demons, and he would cut them down as he had before. No man would take the land that was his. No man no foreign king would take his people from him. The people that held him in their eyes as the true successor of the old king. 

This land was his, the kingdom was his, the people were his! His wife, his soon to be family! All were his and he would defend them all until his last breath. 

Ivar raised his arms in the air and let out a long blood-curdling war cry. Which echoed across the field and into the heavens. His men echoed the same sound as they all stood by the side of their king. Ivar felt the old familiar feeling of his sadistic smile returning to his face. Ivar the Boneless...was back.

Ivar swung his sword high causing the hard steel to decapitate the captain. Blood splattered his face as the head left the body and both fell to the ground. His sword feasted upon the blood and soon craved more as it impaled another soldier, and then another...and then another. His army was overtaking their rivals with great ease and before long the army turned to retreat. They left their dead on the field behind and ran away like cowards dogs. 

Another great war cry left Ivar’s lungs as this time he celebrated their victory. His men cheered and roared around him as their swords were raised high to the heavens. The captain came up to him and gently laid a hand on his King’s shoulder. “Gather the wounded and the fallen...we are going home victorious.” 

The captain gave a nod as he turned to give the orders of his King. Ivar continued to look out at the field before he knelt to pray to the gods. These may have been his enemy but they fought honorably in battle. As Ivar stared up at the sky he could have sworn he saw the lights of the Valkyrie coming down to take the men’s souls to Valhalla. It was then he let out a breath of relief knowing that he was leaving with his feet touching the ground, then in the arms of the Valkyrie. He was going home to his wife. She would hold him in her arms and kiss him with her lips. He would smell her perfumes as they would fill his senses. 

The thought of his wife welcoming him home was a thought that was sweeter than the idea of going to Valhalla. “Let's go home!” He called out to his men as he rose and mounted his horse. “You have all earned it!” He smiled as the men cheered. And so the great army made their way back home victorious. 

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