#sigurdxoc

[come-with-me-and-imagine]

Love Everlasting

Growing up, the only thing Sigurd and Ivar had in common had been a name on their skin. It was written in deep black ruins and sat just above their heart on their left breast. It was a complete shock when Ivar was born with the same soul mark as Sigurd. It wasn’t overly common for a person to have two soulmates nor was it a rarity. 

When the brothers weren’t fighting they shared some moments together talking about her. What might she look like? Where was she in this world? What would she sound like? These moments, though few and far between, held much weight in the brother's lives.

“Do you think …she will love me Sigurd even though I am the way that I am?” He asked his brother one day. It was one of their more meaningful moments they would share. The brothers were sitting alone together  “I would like to think that she will love me no matter if my legs are useless. I often dream of holding her as she runs her fingers through my hair as I kiss her cheek.”

“I dream of her too. I will play her music and tell her stories. I dreamed that her laugh is the sweetest sound.” Sigurd sighed softly as he leaned back in his chair.

“Do you think, she would be angry at us for fighting?”

“it is not easy for us to stop…” Sigurd’s words rang true. They couldn’t stop fighting. They were both full of anger and lashed out at one another at the drop of a hat. Could they change? The answer to that question eluded them for a long time. Yet, once they had both reached manhood they would be tested on that very question.

Ubbe walked around with his mother Aslaug as she strolled through Kattegat. She wanted to examine the new slaves that were coming in. Ubbe followed his mother as his eyes glanced about. He paid no attention to much around him as his feet lazily carried him along. “It seems as if we have a fine lot this—“Aslaug’s words were cut off as she witnessed a slave girl being violently shoved to the ground. She froze for a moment when she caught of glimpse of the woman’s filthy and beaten face. Her pupils dilated and her heart began to race. “Ubbe…stop him.” She said in a slightly daunting voice. Ubbe knew when his mother spoke in such a manner it meant something.

Ubbe charged forth as the man raised a whip to beat the poor woman. “Stop!” he roared at the man who froze upon seeing the son of Queen Aslaug.

“Prince Ubbe” The man spoke in a shaking voice as Ubbe’s sword was pointed at him. All eyes watched as the Queen walked over to the shaking and terrified woman who lay on the ground. She was in a far worse state than the other slaves. Her wrists and ankles were bloody, raw, and infected. She was underweight; completely filthy and her clothes were torn from where the whip dug in constantly. Aslaug knelt on the earth before her as she reached to push her chin up. She could feel the poor girl shaking.

“Look at me…” she asked softly prompting the woman to open her eyes. The moment she looked at those green eyes the Queen smiled softly. “I have been waiting for you, my dear.” She took her hands into her own as she tried to help her up. The woman’s knees gave out as she fell against her. “Shhh,…it’s alright. Ubbe come cut her ropes.” She said to her eldest son causing him to look at her. Was his mother crazy? No, everything his mother did would have a meaning behind it. He cut the ropes freeing her wrists and her ankles. Ubbe noticed that the woman would not look him in the face. Her eyes remained glued to the ground. He started following his mother as she walked along holding the woman to her side.

They arrived at their home and the woman was immediately ushered by servants and other slaves to a bedroom. “What is going on mother? Who is that woman?” Ubbe spoke in a soft demand as he stood behind her while she continued to look at where the woman had been taken.

“That my dear son is Sigurd and Ivar’s soulmate.” She smiled softly before walking past him.

“Her? Where has she been all this time?” he demanded now with no trace of softness in his tone.

“Ubbe please, she has been through enough. The point is that she is here now.” Aslaug looked at her son softly before she turned and walked off. She walked down the hall to where the woman had been taken. When she arrived at the room the poor woman was practically being drowned in soaps and perfumes. She heard the servants comment about the amount of dirt they had washed out of her hair. The hair in question, once long and mangled, had been cut so short that it was now at the tops of her shoulders. The red curls stuck out in wild curls. Her skin having been scrubbed within an inch of its life was now clean and pink from the hot water. Her green eyes shone brightly against her glowing skin. 

Aslaug felt her eyes grow sad as she gazed at the body of the woman. She was so thin. Her figure stood frail beneath the dress she now wore. Her wrists and ankles were bandaged with a salve to help heal the infected wounds. “M-majesty...” she said softly as she bowed her head. 

“What is your name child?” Her voice was that of a mother as she approached the scared woman. She reminded her of a little bunny. 

“T-Tove...” She murmured softly keeping her head down. 

“That is what I suspected.” Aslaug walked over and pulled back her dress to reveal the black runes on her chest. Two names she knew very, very well. Tove quickly pulled the dress back over to cover them. She had to protect the names that were on her skin. But Aslaug took her hands softly. “I am not going to hurt you. I am Queen Aslaug of Kattegat. I am Sigurd and Ivar’s mother.” 

Tove looked up with wide eyes in shock. Tears started to fall down her eyes as Aslaug sat her down. “Th-they are here?” 

“Indeed they are my dear. They have been waiting for you a long, long time.” Aslaugh caressed her hair like a mother would a daughter. “And now the Gods have brought you to us.” 

“I-I never thought I would find them...” She sobbed softly but Aslaug brought her into her arms. 

“Hush now...hush...” Aslaug cradled her gently on the bed. “It will be alright. I will be alright. “I just have to ask you to hold on for a few more days. I want you to heal first before I present you to them. Can you do that for me?” 

Tove gave a nod “Yes. I can do that...” Aslaug smiled and wiped away her tears. 

“Good. I promise you it won’t be too long. Soon you will be with your soulmates.” Tove smiled at the Queen. Her life was finally taking a good turn. 

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[odins-missing-eye]

So as i’m working on my (what is to be my) main fanfiction called Spoons to Swords i’ve also been working on a side story that will be shorter and only have a couple parts. this is the intro to that side story. (my gods i feel like ragnar with somethin’ on the side...)

PAIRINGS: MAIN- Eikhríð x Sigurd SIDE- Asta Bergljot x Ivar Title: Moving a Tree (in a Storm) Summery: How one takes grief varies on the person but you must keep moving. In a land where she was born an outsider Eikhríð will gain a family and maybe make one of her own. Slave to free women she will learn that her actions as one may allow for her to grow as the other, Eikhríð owes nothing to her mistress yet she stays loyal not out of pity or fear but out of love and need. Her mistress’s future is blessed by the gods yet hers, hers in unknown.

Asta Bergljot (blond) is based on my bestie @imaginesparadise  this story is dedicated to them.

story rated: 18+ This story will include: SLOW BUILD, swearing, mentions of rape, attempted rape, blood, smut, graphic gore, and a lot of other stuff though warnings will be on each chapter.

tagging: @imaginesparadise @ivars-pet @cherrytrinkets  (let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part)

Moving a Tree (in a Storm) - INTRO

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The strange dragon ships came one day in the fog. By then they needed no cover of night as rumors across the shores had already started to travel and take root in this once quiet town as more and more accounts of blood shed and fear made its way down the coast.

Chaos, that's what this was. No organization. Exit plans? What exit plans, it was pure mayhem. Women, children executed by family members so the 'heathens' wouldn't do it, or worse. Churches boarded up in haste as if pieces of wood would keep them out. They knew wood, their boats perfectly crafted and unlike any others. And the fire, the blaze of the end times surely. Buildings, people, the fire cleansed all who it touched. Fire didn't pick and choose, it took. If their was one element in this world those northmen could be described as, it was fire. They took, burned, and took more. Their was no recess. But just like a fire some things Hardy make it. She was such a thing. She was the type to endure but this was ridiculous! If you thought when a raid happened you only had to watch out for the raiders you would be wrong. It seemed her people in panic went insane. Slaying their own. She not only had to watch out for the new comers but her own neighbors as well. She was never really lucky however and this day was no different, but it seemed she wasn't down right UN-lucky either. She was taken last, found among the crates and stalls at the markets, the ropes cutting into her hands on her end, the other end was in the hands of a large heathen of a man but was snagged by a young women quickly after. words were exchanged quickly between the two. Consintrating on who’s hand now owned her leash gave her enough distraction to what was going on around. The young women had blond hair blazed red and orange, golden even when the fires around them both hit it just right it was tied back in long braids and her grey eyes didn't look at her but they were fierce and glared at others of her people as she passed. She didn't speak much but seemed to growl in announce to her kin when she needed to. This was someone in charge if people leaving no sooner then her words were spit had anything to go by. The young women wasn't very tall though a couple inches more so then she, a small waist and curvy hips she was dirty with Ash, dirt and blood and smelled of all three. Her leather clothing..or was it armor were fitted to her and she wore pants of all things! women here didn't wear them except in the winter if it was cold enough but even then that was under a dress still. These men and women cleared out as quickly as they came. They did not linger and when all was loaded including her she was in the middle of the water looking at endless waves. Her own black hair kept getting blown in her face. She would need to braid it when she could use her hands again. You would think she would be afraid, among strangers, tied to a pole under the ship, she wasn't, she was far to curious. Everything had happened so fast she was alert looking over everything she could, the others captured like her didn't even look at her, that was no surprise considering she was an outsider to them all. Her green eyes took in who had been spared and she recognized some young women and stronger men. No children or elderly. That meant her father had not made it. Her father, a great healer, was one of them but her mother, a witch of a healer, came from another land. She had her mother's looks mostly, some were unique to herself, all she had been given by her father was her striking  eyes, identical to his. Black hair, palest of skin almond shaped eyes and high cheek bones. Skinny and short with a small chest she got these things from her mother but she also had birthing hips or so she had been told her thighs were a bit on the bigger scale and her butt wasn't flat like her mothers these were the parts of her her father said came from his mother. Green, not to bright like emeralds but more like the Jade her mother had favored from her home land, her eyes stood out just more so then her fathers seemed to as his features didn't seem too make them exotic. on her they seemed foreign, not right. In the darkness like now under the main deck Her eyes seemed black. Her father had been the main healer for their rich small area and was so good others from other areas around contacted him. Even Kings and royalty had called for him. After Her mother had died it was just him and her, she learned everything he would teach her and as he got older she was thankful she did get to travel with him. In fact they had both just gotten back from the royal castle in the east, they had delivered a child of the young queen. She had gone to the markets to get some supplies as three weeks of being gone had their store room needing fresh food. She let herself shed a couple tears in his memory before wiping them away. The Northwomen came back looking far better and less agitated then before, her hair down now and clothes a little cleaner. she untied her and pulled out some bread and water both from the land they had just left. She almost choked on both when the young women opened her mouth and spoke her language. You may think how she spoke wasn't the best but besides a light accent proving she wasn't a native you couldn't tell. So they talked and they learned each other's names, the Northwomen was called Asta Bergljot, Asta by her mother but called Bergljot by her men and her brothers. Asta was the name her mother wished for her to have and the other the name her father called her. It seemed her people called her Asta as a title almost rather then a name but it was shorter and easy to say.Her own name wasn't impressive but she shared it anyway and when the women had trouble she told her how her name meant treestorm so the lady Asta called her Eikhríð eik meant tree, hríð meant storm It was harsher then her own language but she liked it. It was different like she.They talked about that to, about her parents and Asta was impressed with her abilities as a healer she even offered condolences when she talked about her father. Eikhríð knew she shouldn't be spilling so much but she was never good at stopping once she started something. She had never connected with anyone before. Her father's people hated her and no one opened up to her. Asta did. The whole journey to Asta's land was filled with conversation and lessons about their ways. Asta opened about her people about her brothers two older and one younger and a sister as well. Her father was a Jarl in their land and that made Asta a princess of sorts. they talked about many things for many days, above deck and below. Asta seemed to enjoy her company, one of her older brothers was in change of this raid and didn't even seem to mind them both gossiping like kitchen slaves in a palace.

By the time they got off the ship Eikhríð had gained a lot of knowledge she no longer had to be led around like her kin though Asta did tie her hands and hold on to her just for show as she was still a slave. 

Life moved on, Asta's family treated her well. Eikhríð was Asta's personal handmaid but only acted like it when they were in front of others. two years past this way, Eikhríð learned their language, how they fought, how they lived. 

Though she was a slave she had earned the title 'The Wagging' due to always having information to give. she didn't give the information freely, secrets were kept but it wasn't a secret that she knew enough to bury most people. She looked so foreign she could play the part of new slave well to over hear things. most in their land knew not she could speak their language as well as she could.  

Asta thought of Eikhríð more of a sister as her own was older and had been married off. They were close so when Asta went raiding Eikhríð went too. When the sons of Ragnar called upon an army news spread. Asta's father didn't like Ragnar, he wouldn't let his sons go. Asta grew angry at her fathers decisions and left a little farther north to see her uncle who always favored her. Her uncle had raided with Ragnar before he was already packing to answer the call so it wasn't to hard for both women to slip in among his ranks. Her father would no doubt be furious but both women knew he wouldn't send anyone after her.

Eikhríð knew to stay close when they reached Kattegat, the town was bigger then what both were used to, it was new, exciting and Eikhríð thought dangerous. Eikhríð herself tied a rope to one of her wrists and the other end to Asta's, she wouldn't be getting lost or taken off to who knows where. As a friend, a sister and a slave Eikhríð knew Asta would do great things. she could listen to her talk all day of plans for the future, where she wanted to go, things she wanted to do. heading to the great hall Asta walked proud next to her uncle and behind her Eikhríð quickened her steps as not to have the rope pull her along, eyes scanning everything, she wanted no surprises. all three stopped once in the threshold to take it in.

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leaving it here as this is only the intro <3