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heathenarmyimagines

Aug 28, 2025

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Will the Princess prove her worth as a Viking's wife?

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

A/N: Remember bold letters mean the foreign language is being so spoken.

By the power of the Great and Many, Princess (Y/N) was able to climb the impossible tree.

Every muscle in her body ached from the effort it took to make it to the branch she was currently sitting on, her skin had been notably chaffed by the twine and she wiped her bloodied palms on the fabric of her hunting skirt.

She was grateful the large palm leaves provided her with both shade and camouflage, but she didn’t waste time. After at last catching her breath and taking a very large sip of water, (Y/N) began untying the twine from her waist and transferred it to the bait and the closest branch she could reach.

Once she was secure in her knots on both the branch and meat she dropped the bait and watched as the twine held strong.

The lion’s leg hung only a few feet above ground and swayed as the twine settled into place, as she studied her handiwork she concluded that Land Fishing was the only way she could describe this.

Her plan was a simple one, let the scent of a free meal attract something big and healthy enough to skin. Once she had her desired prey she could shoot it down and claim her prize; of course that’s assuming she didn’t attract a pack animal like a hyena.

In which case she wouldn’t have nearly enough arrows to make it out of this tree alive, and Spirits forbid the beast be a strong climber.

She quickly put that idea out of her mind, worrying about a hypothetical outcome would be pointless. For now all she could do was wait and be ready. Minutes bled into hours and aside from the sound of the mandrills moving in their own section of trees there was no sign of any other creatures.

(Y/N) was not naive enough to believe her strange plan would bear immediate results, hunting could take days or even weeks, but with every hour she counted her anxiety flared.

What if this was a waste of time, valuable time that she couldn’t spare? Already the sun was beginning to fall, if you didn’t have better luck within the next two hours you would have to leave empty handed.

By now the fear of failure had a tight hold of her heart, and the sight of all the animals at the water hole in the distance seemed to be taunting her.

It was only when she admitted defeat and began preparing for the hard climb down did she finally hear a rustle of leaves under the tree.

She looked down and saw that one of the male mandrills had apparently chosen today to depart from his group. A quick glance to the trees they had been occupying all day proved that the group was in fact moving on for the night without him.

(Y/N)’s heart filled with hope as she felt her whole body begin to focus as she assessed the situation instantly in her mind. This was perfect; if this mandrill was separating that meant the rest would more likely not defend him and he was only just now matured enough to seek a mate, meaning he would likely not have a lot of survival skills.

The mandrill sniffed around the meat suspiciously, but was clearly too enticed by the easy meal to be truly cautious. As it stood to full height to claim the prize, the princess soundlessly leaned into shadows provided by the leaves.

She waited until the mandrill began to focus on pulling down the bait, as she waited she readied her bow and aimed.

The shot had to be perfect, if she missed and gave away her location then she would die. The mandrill would climb the tree and tear her apart, or if she was lucky she would fall out of the tree before he made it to her. Either way she would die without setting foot in the caves, without ever truly being Ivar’s wife in the eyes of the Great and Many Spirits or even his Gods.

As the Princess saw the mandrill finally take firm hold of the lion’s sacrificed limb with both hands, she let the arrow loose. Before she even realized what she was doing, the fear making her own movements too quick for herself to register; she had pulled three more arrows in rapid succession and let them go one after the other.

Each arrow struck the target; the first hit right where she intended, the skull. The next three landed in the right shoulder, left leg and stomach. The mandrill let out the beginning of a scream, its sharp teeth bared for a split second, but the scream was cut off by the second the arrow. It fell into the dirt with the third, and it was dead before the last arrow struck.

Up in her tree the princess panted heavily, her bow still in hand as she looked at her kill in disbelief. It had happened so fast that it felt unreal, as she studied the beast’s fine body she was certain she hadn’t been the one to claim it.

She was shaking like a leaf as she turned to tie her twine back around her waist; she would not look back again until she was on the ground. She would fall apart if this was just her imagination, so she focused fully on climbing down, which was thankfully easier than she had expected.

Once her feet were firmly on the ground, she turned and found the mandrill was still there, her arrows protruding as if to tell her that this was truly hers. Telling her that her ridiculous plan had worked, she had successfully completed her Matrimonial Hunt.

She would marry Ivar.

It took every ounce of self control in her body to not begin jumping and screaming in her joyous thankfulness for the Spirits who made this possible and granted her marriage. Instead, she replaced her arrows and began to carry her kill back to shelter.

It was heavy, heavier than any mandrill you’d ever help carry back, and its pelt was in peak condition. The fur was healthy, the crest was full and luscious; without a doubt this would be an excellent cloak.

“Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.”

A smile crossed her face as she remembered Ivar’s request.

Getting back to shelter took just as long as it took to get there, but with the perfect kill on her back it felt like a breeze. Even the mandrill felt lighter than it should have as she dragged it along, and the Great and Many blessed her with an uninterrupted path.

Once she was back in her little hut of sorts, she made quick work of starting a fire and threw in a few handfuls of dry grass into the flames. The smoke was thick as it lifted through the hole in her roof and into the sky, the rescue party would see the signal and know it was time to escort you back safely.

Her euphoria carried her through the whole skinning process, and it continued as you went on to the butchering. This was a high risk hunt, and the prize would feed the community so that they too would bless the marriage of their Royal Princess.

With the fear of preserving her rations gone, the princess used some of her water to clean her hands and she noticed that if she ran she might have time to bury the discarded parts of the mandrill alongside the lion and before total darkness fell.

It was just as she exited the warm hut to begin her quick errand that she spotted something even more unthinkable than the mandrill.

Right where (Y/N) had marked the lion’s resting place she saw a boar digging up and feasting on the remains, even from this distance the princess could tell it was a fine specimen simply by the size of it. She looks around; searching for any signs that this boar wasn’t travelling alone.

There was no movement other than the grass flowing evenly through the cool breeze, no smaller figures moving around waiting for their mother to bring them back food for the night. So it was likely a male traveling alone between the mating seasons.

This was unheard of.

Two beasts for one Matrimonial Cloak, but then again there had never been a union like hers and Ivar’s. Already (Y/N) had to admit her luck on this hunt had been astonishingly good; the lion being too weak to harm her but perfectly able to aid her, the mandrill that separated at just the right moment…and now this.

A second beast, perfectly placed for her strike down with minimal risk to herself. Even if the boar was quicker than average she could let loose at least five arrows before it got too close, and she had plenty of arrows to spare.

The decision made itself as she readied her bow for the second time and lined up the shot. It went down in an instant, its dying squeal sounding faint from so far away.

For a moment the sheer ease of it confuses her; of course her body feels the strain of all the hard labor she had done since leaving the capitol, but this should be harder. Claiming three high risk kills all in the matter of two days should feel like an impossible thing to do. And yet she had done exactly that, without any sufficient bodily harm. The tree and twine had done the most damage and even that had barely broken skin.

Upon walking to retrieve her latest prize she felt that maybe this last kill was different from the others. (Y/N) didn’t feel like her Great and Many had sent her this boar, and yet she was sure the boar’s hide was meant for Ivar’s cloak.

The princess was especially sure of it when she saw how magnificent the hide really was up close. The fur was thick and full, and the boar was clearly not going hungry. She gave the body an experimental tug to gauge if she had the strength to carry it back alone and figured it had to be around two hundred pounds.

Dragging it would take her nearly twice as long as walking out to retrieve it, meaning being out at night, but she knew something wanted her to take it. Something far bigger than her and completely foreign to her Great and Many Spirits.

So under this strange new influence she poured all her strength into dragging the boar back to her shelter to skin. She could feel the sweat rolling off of her skin as she struggled to keep hold of the back leg she was pulling it by.

It was the most difficult challenge she felt she had faced on this hunt; every tug left her already exhausted muscles burning, and only moved the beast a few inches at a time. The physical strain paled in comparison to the anxiety she felt as the night fell completely, leaving her with only the moon and stars to light the way back to safety.

(Y/N) flinched and reached for her arrows at every noise, her head turned at every imaginary movement in the corner of her eye. She was certain her own paranoia was making the distance take even longer to cross than it should have.

When at last she hauled the beast inside and shut her makeshift door she outright collapsed next to the boar in the dirt. She was panting heavily and it felt like even moving her limbs enough to move away from the kill was an impossible task.

The scent was unbearable at this distance, the reek of feces, mud and blood overwhelming the princess’s nostrils and even seeming to stick in the back of her mouth. Still she lay there, looking at the boar’s lifeless face, the arrow was broken as you dragged it behind you but it was still planted through the right eye.

As the wheezing breaths slowed to become deep controlled ones, (Y/N) thought back on her terrifying journey back here. Every time she stopped and searched for the presence she knew was there, the results remained the same. There were no predators stalking her, or cautious prey studying her, but the feeling of being watched persisted.

Even now, while looking up at the ceiling she had so quickly crafted just yesterday, she felt like something or someone was watching to see what she did with the boar.

‘It would make for several excellent dishes at our wedding.’ she said aloud, that being the most logical and reasonable thing to do, but it didn’t feel right.

This boar wasn’t for them, in her very blood she knew her Great and Many did not send this blessing. And once she accepted that fully her heart froze in terror at the sudden realization that this was a test.

Someone, (Y/N) couldn’t begin to guess who specifically, wanted to see where her heart truly lied.

She at last gathered the strength to sit up and move closer to where she had left her rations; she dragged her body with just her arms, because her legs were still too weak to stand.

For the briefest and most absurd moment she let out a laugh, noticing that she likely resembled Ivar in this state. Her laughter subsided as she poured more water on her hands to clean them once more, she needed to eat before anything else right now.

The cooks had kept her provisions light, but bountiful, she ate her fill of biltong, nuts, dried berries and bread and still there would be plenty left for the morning. Now that her appetite had been fulfilled and her strength was returning she looked back to her gift and thought she knew what she had to do with it.

(Y/N) just didn’t know how exactly to do it correctly.

She pulled her blade out and slowly approached the beast, pausing to consider if she should say something first.

‘Greetings, I pray you are not insulted by my ignorance, I do not know how to address you properly. My name is (Y/N), I am Princess of Tunisia and I am to be the wife of Ivar the Boneless, Prince of Kattegat.’ she started in proper Norse.

Of course there was no response, but she carried on with her part of the conversation anyway.

‘I wish to thank you for this amazing gift, I am sure it will keep Ivar warm back in Norway. I will take only what I believe you have offered me, the rest I will give to you in full, may it please you all. Please forgive me if I do it incorrectly, or if I offer anything that offends you. I have not learned about you and your rituals yet, but I will learn.’ (Y/N) promised as she began making the first cut.

‘I will learn your names, stories and customs…I will learn it all to show my respect to you all and my husband. You are his Gods, you led him to me just as you led this boar. For it I am eternally grateful, but you are not mine to worship.’

The princess could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she skillfully removed the hide; she truly did not wish to offend whoever was testing her, but she couldn’t abandon her own faiths. With every breath (Y/N) took she wanted to be Ivar’s wife in both religions, but when she passed on she wanted to join her ancestors in the winds that cast judgments unto her descendants.

‘I do also hope that this gift is your blessing for our marriage, and that you also watch over my husband if he ever upsets my Spirits. I will do what little I can to keep him safe, but I would appreciate any assistance.’ she continued as she worked.

She continued her very one sided conversation as she skinned the boar; repeating thanks and asking for blessings and protection in her future marriage. Soon the hide was fully removed and sat beside mandrill’s, now all that was left was to make the sacrifice.

This was the part she was most concerned about; not only did she not know what parts the Norse Gods liked to receive, it would take her until noon to burn it. After the full day of walking, climbing and hauling two large prizes, all (Y/N) wanted to do was sleep until the hunting party found her.

Despite her exhaustion she knew she could not succumb to sleep, because the feeling of hard eyes watching her had not faltered. It was more than her faith being challenged, it was her very being. In her mind, (Y/N) could hear the challenges clear as a morning bird.

Can she carry the weight alone? Will she stay out in the open after dark, or will she flee from the beast of her own imagination? Is she going to pay her respects or is she too weak willed to even serve?

Again. She looked around, certain that the owner of the voice in her mind would reveal itself, but still she was the only visible occupant.

‘My will has never been weak.’ she said aloud, making the declaration firmly as she added more wood and grass to her fire.

The rescue party found her the next morning, nearly faint with sleep deprivation as she fed the fire with good fresh killed pork piece by piece. The leader of the party asked immediately if the princess was well, and he was assured she was of sound mind.

Of course she didn’t look very convincing; stumbling over her own feet, and drenched in sweat as she sleepily carved into the mostly butchered boar.

‘I understand this is strange, but I cannot return until the burning is done.’ she said as she threw another piece of meat into the flames.

The men all looked confused but they offered their help just the same, wanting to assist after seeing their beloved princess so distressed.

‘I must do this alone, we will depart when the bones are burning.’ (Y/N) declared.

‘Sweet Princess, the party will wait as long as it takes, we’ll break camp for you so the cart will be ready to take you back.’ he assured.

When at last she threw the last bone into the fire a sense of ultimate relief took over her whole body, her knees almost buckling as she used the last of her energy.

It hadn’t taken long to dismantle the little hut around her as she worked, and soon two of the men had helped her into the man-powered cart along with the cargo. It was certainly not the most glamorous Princess (Y/N) had ever felt; she was laid on her back, surrounded by her supplies and hides as her legs hung freely over the edge.

With her hunt and unexpected test hopefully passed (Y/N) finally let sleep claim her. She knew she would awake once they reached the skinning tents to start fashioning the cloak, but for right now she could rest while the party protected her.

Her dreams were full of ravens.

Back in the capitol, Ivar was sat beside Prince Ayo as he read the laws of marriage as the tutor had instructed. The scholar insisted the lesson was to ensure the Crown Prince knew how to navigate marital disputes in court, but Ivar suspected this lesson, like many others, was for his own benefit.

It had been nearly two long and lonesome months since Princess (Y/N) had left and still he’d heard nothing about her hunt. He knew there were hunting parties sent every three days to search for her, but he wasn’t reported to.

It was forbidden for him to see her before he was presented with her cloak, he wasn’t even allowed to ask about her wellbeing as it would suggest he didn’t have faith in her surviving the hunt.

So he spent his days either exploring the market, accompanying nobles on patrols or witnessing court proceedings just to avoid going mad with worry. Thankfully everyone seemed completely understanding of his anxious state and excused him for being such a busybody; even his mother said nothing when he remained in the markets after the tour ended.

Prince Ayo especially seemed most eager to occupy Ivar’s time in lessons, he would excitedly explain to the Viking the contexts of what his tutor asked and in doing so he’d find the correct answer.

‘A woman may demand financial compensation from her husband if he denies her public decency, if agreement is not reached the marriage will be dissolved.’ the boy read aloud.

Ivar listened intently as always, beyond wanting to be informed he was fascinated by their laws regarding conflict within households.

‘A man accused and proven guilty of raping within his household is subject to punishment decided by the victim. This ensures the safety of the women and girls of the household by ensuring that the husband is dis-’

‘Ivar!’

Both princes startled at the sudden shout, Ivar’s hand was already on his throwing dagger when he turned and saw that it was his mother.

She was dressed fully in Tunisian fashion as she had taken to dressing while they were visiting, her dashiki dress looking just as wind weathered as her hair.

She looked as though she had run a great distance to find them, her face flushed with sweat and urgency as she panted. In an instant Ivar remembers the day she found him in the market and told him of her vision of him drowning.

She looked exactly like this.

‘Mother? What is wrong?’ Ivar asked, his heart clenching in fear as he waited for the response.

Aslaug, still panting, began to push out the words in her uneven breaths.

‘You-have…tog get dressed-quickly!’ she barley managed to say in Norse, clearly too tired to translate to Derja in her haste to deliver the message.

‘What has happened?’

‘She’s back!’ Ayo cheered as he jumped from his seat, his assignment completely forgotten as the boy ran out of the Archives..

‘Your chambers…go now!’ Aslaug ordered urgently.

There were more questions Ivar wanted to ask but he would ask them later, at this moment he was hurrying to pull himself up onto his useless feet.

He had never been so glad of the increased speed his new crutches gave him, he managed to make it to his chamber in less than five minutes. Trya had clearly been informed of the rush, judging by how she began undressing him before the door fully closed.

‘Your family is waiting in the Throne Room, the presentation will happen there.’ she explained quickly as she worked.

The presentation? That explained why he was being dressed in traditional Tunisian attire instead of his own clothing. This was after all a Tunisian celebration, so he and his family would show respect by following the customs.

Several of the lessons he’s sat in on included the wedding customs, so he was thankfully somewhat prepared for what came next.

Of course that was a load of horse dung, knowing what was supposed to happen did nothing to calm his nerves. He was terrified that (Y/N) would be injured when he finally saw her again. How would she feel if she had been hurt trying to prove her worth to him?

Would she even want to be bothered with him at that point? Would she blame him for her injury, or even worse, would she blame herself?

Even as these fears swirled in his mind he allowed his thrall to dress him and begin escorting him to the Throne Room. All the while he felt like his heart would beat its way out of his chest and his stomach was making its way down to his broken toes.

This was the final Tunisian test, this would be the final obstacle they needed to pass in order to marry in (Y/N)’s culture. Suddenly, after endless days worrying about her simply surviving, the thought of rejecting whatever she presented seemed ridiculous.

Even if she presented him with a dead rabbit, he’d accept it.

When he finally made it to his official place at the foot of the great wooden throne, he quickly took notice of the other royals. The Tunisian monarch was sitting in her inherited seat, she along with her husband and child were dressed impressively.

Ivar’s parents stood at his sides, Ragnar to his right and Aslaug to his left while his brothers all stood further back but still very visibly included. This was their part of the ceremony, displaying to the bride’s parents the family their daughter would be joining.

Queen Aza looked at him the way she did that very first time, that studious way that said she wasn’t fully ready to release her first born to foreigners.

‘State your name, and purpose.’ she ordered.

‘Ivar the Boneless, I am the fifth Prince of Kattegat, son of King Ragnar Lothbrok and Queen Aslaug. I am here to be presented with a Matrimonial Cloak made by my betrothed, your daughter Princess (Y/N) of Tunisia.’ Ivar recited perfectly, being sure he got the pronunciation correct.

‘If you accept my daughter’s cloak, will you in turn cloak her in your name and protection. Will you ensure her safety to me as not only her Queen but as her Blood Mother?’ the queen asked.

‘Yes, I can assure you that neither I nor any member of my family will allow any harm to fall upon your daughter. She will be provided for, her status will never be diminished and her children will be protected.’

Ivar handed his crutches over to his father one at a time, and he lowered himself to the floor as gracefully as he could before he laid with his forehead to the floor.

‘I thank you for raising the woman that will be my wife and bare my sons and daughters; for that I am eternally grateful to you.’ he confessed.

He felt while he practiced this in the sanctuary of the princess’s chambers that this was a ridiculous custom, but doing it now he found he sincerely meant the words he was saying.

‘Rise.’

That was her acceptance, had she not believed him she would have ordered him to leave.

With that done Ragnar helped his son to his feet and gave him a few rushed whispered words of praise before everyone turned their focus to the doors.

A servant was sent to inform the princess that the Groom’s presentation had gone well and it was at last time for her to present her cloak.

Now every second became an hour, no one spoke; the room was silent and tense. At some point Ivar had stopped breathing in his anticipation.

Just as his lungs began to ache in need the doors opened and there she stood, his beloved and he could breathe again.

(Y/N) was there in front of him at last and it took all his self control not to crawl to her side, but he managed. He could not mess up anything today, not when he’d waited so long, so he kept his body still as stone as she approached.

Immediately his eyes searched for any sign of injury on her, but he found nothing. No bandages showed on her exposed skin, no bruises or even a limp, from what he could see from this far away she was unharmed,

She was dressed just as impressively as her mother, she wore golden breast coverings, beautiful vibrant green flowing skirts, and an arrangement of beaded jewelry. In her arms she held a large chest

‘Present to your betrothed and he will decide if your cloak is acceptable.’

‘Thank you Queen Mother.’ Princess (Y/N) replied before turning to face Ivar, but she kept her eyes down.

‘I hunted only two days, but I hope the cloak’s craftsmanship impresses you.’ she said as she bowed to her knees, holding the chest above her head as she kneeled.

‘I present to you this Matrimonial Cloak of Mandrill and Wild Boar, may it please my Husband and show that I can also provide for you, our household and our children.’

There were several gasps and murmurs from the other court officials that were gathered to witness the official Presentation of their nation’s Princess. And Ivar knew why, he hadn’t read about any women presenting a cloak made from two separate species.

Even the salt merchant’s cloak, which took the lives of an entire rat colony, was still only rats. For her to successfully hunt two beasts for one cloak it would make Tunisian history.

Ivar opened the chest and was stunned by the neatly folded cloak within.

The hood was fashioned from the face of the boar that gave its life for their marriage, and when he pulled the fabric out to display it to the onlookers he found the cloak was not the only item in the chest.

A mask of a beast that Ivar had only seen in drawings looked up at him. The mandrill’s face had been fashioned into a hood that could replace the boar’s if desired.

Two beasts in one cloak, to represent their two religions in one marriage.

‘Does it please?’ (Y/N) asked, her tone stiff and official as she projected her voice so that all could hear her, but Ivar could hear the shakiness in her voice.

She was terrified of his response being no, just as Ivar was terrified her mother would say the same.

Ivar looked back over the cloak, and he studied it closely, just to show that he was not making the decision hastily. He handed it to his father and mother to examine, as well as allowing his brothers to step forward and give their opinions as well.

Apparently family members also had a say in the marriage, but the final decision would fall to the groom.

‘The cloak is magnificent. It’s full and thick with fur and the stitch work is practically perfect.’ Aslaug hummed.

‘Two beasts Ivar, what other woman could manage that alone?’ Hvitserk agreed.

One by one he listened as every member of his family gave him their opinions; all saying this was a far better cloak than they had expected. Which pleased him greatly if he were to be honest, he was happy that his family was impressed by his intended wife and he let it show as he faced (Y/N) again, ready to at last pass this hurdle.

All of it led to him saying one word; one single word and this Midgardian Goddess would be his for the rest of their lives.

‘Rise.’ he said around the lump that had formed in his throat suddenly.

Again Ivar found himself on the floor of the Throne Room, but this time he wasn’t alone; (Y/N) had tackled him, clinging tightly to his body as she peppered his face with kisses. She was smiling, laughing and sobbing all at once as she continued her assault on his own tear streaked face.

‘We will marry! I will be your wife! And-’ she started talking so quickly and she stuttered over her own sobs so often Ivar couldn’t begin to translate it all, but he didn’t need to.

All he did was hold her, wrapping his arms around her as the court began to cheer and even laugh at their merriment, but Ivar didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered with thanking them, or even acknowledging them as he let himself be bathed in the affection of his future wife.

He didn’t care about anything else in the world at this moment; the long nights were forgotten as he felt her heat and weight on top of him.

‘We will marry.’ he breathed.

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