Sigurd x chubby reader were she is a princess and it's an arranged marriage but he is happy because he really likes her and she sings and they make music together
A/N: A Nixie is a sea spirit with a beautiful voice. Secondly, the song is snippets and added pieces from a traditional song I found in researching. Lastly, this gif is not mine.
Your father sent you away for a good reason. You weren’t the thin, desirable blonde shieldmaidens your sisters were. In fact you were neither of those things… and people made it a habit to torment you about it. By all recreational speak, Sigurd was rumored to be an outcast like you. You heard a great deal on him and when you arrived to the first dinner there, Ivar was quick to pick on your size.
“Don’t tell me that is your wife to be Sigurd? She’ll smother you.” Ivar roared as you approached the table. Ubbe tossed a piece of bread at Ivar to shush him while you cleared your throat all so slightly.
“Prince Sigurd.” Your hands meld together, ice frosting your feet as Sigurd bit his brother a nasty glare, rushing from behind the table.
“Ignore him. He is crazy.” Sigurd grumbles, taking up your soft hands in his. He quickly brings the dorsal side of your hands to his lips, brushing his plump lips over your hand. He places a sole kiss over your knuckles. Don’t show excitement, you think.
You inhale sharply and instead look to a few shieldmaidens who accompanied you on your way here. Her warm smile encourages you to relax and enjoy his affections. He was the sweetest of the five by rumor. Surely he wouldn’t care. Pressure to your rounded hips tell you that it is Sigurd’s hand set on your thick waist.
“Rumor has it you sing like a Nixie, would you sing for me?I would… like to make music with you.” Sigurd asks, taking his Oud and abandoning his family inside the Great Hall. You almost feel like you can finally breathe, scurrying along like a mouse through Kattegat. It was true that you had a pretty voice… but typically, that went with ‘pretty face’. Perhaps the compliment was a bit marred.
“If you will play.” You motion to his Oud.
He laughs, “I will.”
You both sink into the grass, Sigurd kneeling in front of you on his lower legs. You give him a moment to prepare. The tune he strung was light and airy. His fingers were skilled a top of his instrument and while you were shy, he was proud of his skill.
A few moments later, Sigurd’s eyes drifted up to catch yours. “Whenever you are ready.” He encourages.
You catch the next rhythm that suited you well. “I… I dreamed a dream of silk and fair furs, of a pillow so deep and soft, it warmed my soul.” The words were shaky. Sigurd’s smile warmed you, encouraging you to continue your sweet song. Your hands fiddle across the cloth of your skirt as Sigurd edges closer and closer.
“..I thought it would be best to rest on these furs and forget all the rest.” As your words carried on, your fears seem to evaporate into the wind. The words become smoother and easier to say. Your words melded with the familiar strum of his fingers across the strings. Sigurd bobs his head most contently in tune with your gentle words.
“Peace, if it is to be found, is where one is furthest from the humankind. There one can have dreams of silk and fine furs.” You finish with those final words. Sigurd’s fingers come across the strings but one final time before completely stilling. The only sound was but a small whistle across the blades of grass. Sigurd’s Oud hits the grassy floor. He lurches his body over you, slim compared to your wide hips and soft stomach. Instinctually you lean away from him until you have nowhere else to go against the blades of grass. His firm arms hold his place hovering above you.
“I think… this arrangement will work.” Sigurd smiles. His eyes are gleaming in what you can only say is the most honest of smiles. You can’t help smile too. Your hands travel their way up his arms, timid at first. When Sigurd doesn’t flinch, you sigh in relief.
“I think so too.”