Summary: Ivar has always admired you from afar, a true shieldmaiden that would even make the Valkyries jealous of your skills. But when the chance comes for him to speak to you, to finally push past his fears and insecurities….death stalks in the shadows waiting for its moment to attack.
This is my contribution to the @vikingsbigbang2022!
The idea for this fic was actually from a request/conversation I had with @childishhoe eons ago. I hope you like it!
Also, I want to give a huge shout out to my collaborating artists: @quantumlocked310 & @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog y'all have been amazing in this process. Thank you!
Moodboard by @quantumlocked310
Playlist by @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog (added at the end)
Thud.
Releasing the tension from the drawstring of his bow, Ivar peered down the field towards the target at the end. The corners of his lips turned up in the faintest idea of a smile. The arrow had landed in the dead center of the clumsily drawn target. Just like the past nine other arrows, scattered amongst the various targets drawn on stumps or bales of hay.
"Have I mentioned yet how frightfully accurate you are?"
Ivar glanced at Ubbe, who stood next to him with a proud smile on his face. "You did yesterday."
"Hmmm….seems like you were blessed by the gods."
"I'd rather have my legs." Ivar mumbled, his good mood immediately soured.
Ubbe squeezed his shoulder but thankfully kept any words behind his teeth. Seeing that Ivar was out of arrows, the elder brother walked down to the end of the archery range to retrieve Ivar's arrows again.
The dark-haired Ragnarsson absent-mindedly watched Ubbe pluck the arrows from the targets, pleased that his brother knew to keep the pitying looks or comments to himself. Everyone had gotten better about hiding their pity but Ivar could still see it….could feel it taint the air….and it made his blood boil. It made him want to thrust his dagger into someone's chest and rip their still-beating heart out, to paint himself in the blood of those who dare pity him, to hear their petrified screams….to remind them all that he was more than his useless legs.
That someday the whole world would know the name of Ivar the Boneless….
….and they would fear him.
But for now, he temporarily suppressed his homicidal tendencies. His mother chastised him enough when he verbalized all the ways he would love to torture Sigurd. Not that it stopped him. He just hated seeing that disappointed look on her beautiful face. Or the swat to the back of his head from Floki. That did not mean he did not have plans though….for the future.
The sounds of others in the practice yard drifted around him like a chilling breeze. His jaw tightened fractionally. The two Ragnarssons were off at the furthest corner of the archery range, no one else around them. Several of those that stood around or practiced with axes and swords called out greetings to Ubbe when the two brothers passed. But no one came to join them, to practice archery or just talk….because of Ivar.
That easy comradery, that acceptance, that respect from his fellow Vikings, was something he never experienced. They thought him worthless, useless….just a cripple.
They kept their distance. Never were they outright rude to his face, because everyone knew Ivar's temper and violent tendencies would warrant him to inflict pain on them, but they never tried to join him or whichever brother was babysitting him for the day.
So he watched and observed. Only in the dead of night when he was alone, did his imagination create fantasies of being able to join the other warriors. To be recognized and wanted. To be respected. To be liked.
For now, he would accept their fear.
A cheer rang out through the practice yard. "Hvitserk! Hvitserk!" Several voices chanted his name like they were summoning him forth.
While sitting on his stump, Ivar turned to see his flaxen-haired brother stepping into the center of the sparring area, a sword in one hand and an axe in the other. His smug smile could be witnessed even from where Ivar sat, as those watching cheered him on with enthusiasm.
The youngest Ragnarsson wondered who was stupid enough to try and fight his brother. He begrudgingly admitted that all of his brothers were fierce warriors in their own right, a trait surely gifted through the blood of their father and being descendants of Odin the All-Father.
Yet neither the father that abandoned them nor the one-eyed god in Valhalla ever answered Ivar's whispered prayers and silent cries.
In the sparring area, a new cheer arose as Hvitserk's opponent stepped into the circle. Carrying a sword and shield, you rolled your shoulders, preparing for the spar. The chant of your name filled the air, like those around could not help but be in awe of you. For it was the air of confidence surrounding you that made people magnetized to you.
And Ivar was no exception.
Your name flowed from his lips in a reverent murmur as his vivid, blue eyes refused to look away. You were perfection in every way. Your movements were fluid like a dancer's and calculated like a strategist's. Every year that passed, you continuously grew in beauty, a kind that should not be known in the mortal realm. People flocked to you, both to win your affections and bask in your presence. Your skills with a blade were already legendary. Many claimed one day that you might surpass Lagertha herself with your sword skill. You were confident and strong, poised and regal. A valkyrie amongst mortals that were blessed just to be in your presence.
The sporadic times Ivar and you interacted in passing, usually around his brothers, you never ignored or awkwardly stared at him like other women. As if they were unsure what to do around him since he did not have working legs or they feared he would randomly stab them. But not you. Instead, your gorgeous eyes would meet his, a smile on your lips, as you greeted him like he was worth your time.
On occasion, you would ask him a superficial question and it was all Ivar could do to remember how to speak. Then to his further astonishment, you would actually listen and respond. The few conversations you bestowed upon him were typically short-lived, for his brothers were always around and would steal your attention away or you would have to leave to fulfill your duties.
Yet in those moments, Ivar swore his heart stopped and he could grow wings and fly.
His brothers teased him about his crush on you, how he would go starry-eyed and barely able to speak in your presence. In retaliation, he would just remind them that whenever they made advances towards you, you would quite clearly make your feelings known - usually with a dagger against their balls. Not that it stopped their flirting.
Ivar knew of a few bets going around, trying to see who would be the first brought to your bed here in Kattegat. Yet so far, no one had won.
The riotous cheering resumed in the sparring area as Hvitserk and you began circling one another. In a blink, Hvitserk advanced, swinging his sword and axe only for them to repeatedly bounce off your shield. The two of you sparred for several more minutes, taking turns in attempts to land a hit or make the other stumble. Finally both of you stepped away, chests heaving and grins on their faces. Hvitserk said something that had everyone nearby laughing as he winked at you.
Ivar's hand tightened on the bow in his lap.
You shook your head with a smirk. Then you glided forward with an effortless grace and initiated the sparring this time.
"I heard she trained under Lagertha for a few years before coming here." Ubbe stated, coming up to Ivar's side with the arrows in hand, even as he watched the fight. "That's why she's so good."
Ivar grunted. "I hope she makes Hvitty eat dirt."
"She probably will."
This time something in you had shifted. No longer were you fighting on equal terms with Hvitserk. Oh no….it became obvious you had been toying with him this whole time.
In frustrated retaliation, Hvitserk's hits began to get more wild, his blocks more sloppy. Yet you continued to dance around him, taking each hit and easily returning your own that he barely managed to escape. Once you managed to knock him onto his back, but with a quick roll, Hvitserk was up and charging at you again.
Finally, with a clearly well-practiced and almost unbelievable move, you slipped under his guard. Using his momentum against him, you feigned a spin and snuck a leg out to swipe at him, effectively tripping him. Before he could do more than raise his face from the dirt beneath him, you had one foot on his back and your sword tip at the nap of his neck.
Ivar sworn he had never seen a more beautiful and erotic sight in his entire life.
After a moment, you allowed Hvitserk up, clasping forearms after with smiles still on your faces as those around cheered or swapped coins based on their betting. Moving away, you settled back to lean against a railing, happily accepting the water from someone next to you. With your sleeve, you wiped the sweat from your brow before taking a sip. One of the shieldmaidens at your other side muttered something that made you laugh, shaking your head before you playfully shoved her.
A smile tugged on his lips in answer to your own laughter. But it died a swift death when he noticed the many other pairs of eyes watching you. Some of those looks were nothing short of hungry.
"You should say something to her."
Ivar shifted his icy glare to his elder brother. "What are you talking about?"
Ubbe shrugged. "It's obvious you like her….don't deny it. The death glares you give the others are enough to confirm it. So, you should tell her. Who knows? Maybe she feels the same."
Ivar scoffed, even as his heart pounded in his chest like a drum at the mere thought of you returning even a smidgen of his affection. "No. She's too nice to say it to my face. But she has no interest in any of you, why would she be interested in the cripple then?"
"Ivar, it's not…."
"Shut up. I'm done talking about this. Let's go find our idiot brothers. I'm tired of waiting around for them." Ivar slid down the trunk and began using his hands to crawl back towards the Great Hall. He could faintly hear Ubbe mutter something under his breath as he picked up Ivar's abandoned bow and arrows, used to have to carry things for the youngest Ragnarsson.
Before he got too far, Ivar could not help himself as he turned to look over his shoulder one last time at you. Leaning against the railing, you watched the next sparring match with a small smile on your face, looking beautiful and happy.
With that image in his mind, Ivar continued to crawl away, each drag of his lower body haunted by the eyes he knew would be following his movement like he was some rabid beast in need of being put down for the safety of all.
But the worst part was the knowledge that someone as perfect as you would never look twice at him in desire. He was a snake, meant to crawl on the ground, and you….you were a Valkyrie meant to rise above everyone and dwell with the gods.
*****
His vibrant eyes peered down over the edge of the short cliff, cloaked by the bushes he looked through. Lying here, with his belly on the ground, no one ever saw him. He knew from experience, enough times spent tracking various people to see what he could observe, or witnessing his brothers and their various paramours. He knew no one looked towards the ground for the eyes they could feel watching them. Never thinking about the danger that lurked at their feet.
This revelation was both the shadow of truth he veiled himself in and the chain that kept him prisoner.
Now though, he was thankful for a very different reason that he had honed his skills of stealthily tracking and following someone without their knowledge. Quiet and sly as a serpent in the underbrush, he carefully moved closer, crawling forward on his elbows.
It was the muffled crying from below that twisted the knife in his heart and kept him hostage on the precipice.
Amongst the raised roots of an ancient-looking tree, almost hidden by the natural alcove between the tree and the sharp slope of the short cliff, you leaned against the trunk of the tree. Your face was buried in your hands, weapons laying discarded just within reach. Your stifled cries mixed with the sound of the nearby gentle stream, creating a conflicting symphony of peace and heartbreak.
It was not pity that filled him as he gazed down at you. No, he knew pity and loathed it. He would never place such a revolting emotion onto you. What filled him instead was….sympathy. For he knew what it felt like to purposefully draw away from others, to hide oneself away from the world, and only then be able to shed the restricting mask and release the pent-up pain without fear of others' judgements.
Almost a fortnight had passed since he had begun following you, trailing behind as you left Kattegat and ventured into the surrounding forest and to your safe haven. At first, it had been curiosity that caused him to track your journey. Only to be shocked when he discovered you in the hidden dell, taking your clothes off and bathing in the shallow stream, softly singing to yourself the whole time. His mind shut down, unable to comprehend what his eyes bore witness to. You appeared as an apparition, something not meant for mortal eyes. A vision that the gods guarded jealously. The image of you was immediately seared into his brain, never to be forgotten for however long he lived. For gazing upon you, was the epitome of divine beauty, both inside and out. A goddess that was meant to be worshipped for all eternity.
After seeing you bathing for the first time, Ivar spent the rest of the day in a haze. Nothing could draw him out of his reverie. It was as if you had cursed him, only able to think about you, to remember you in all your glory.
The next time he saw you, he was sharpening an axe at the blacksmith's. You walked by, but not without greeting him first with a call of his name and a mesmerizing smile. He was lucky that you continued on your way because he barely caught himself from slicing his hand open in his gawking and encouraging his tongue back into his mouth after accidentally swallowing it. He was certain that if you had caught him spying, you would have confronted him about it. When you did not say anything, nor in the days after, all he could guess was you were unaware of his observation.
So whenever he saw you heading for the forest alone….he followed.
In his mind, he reassured himself it was for your own protection. Of course, he knew the skill you possessed to fight and defend yourself. It was a favorite pastime of his to watch you knock over-confident, cocky men flat on their asses. Especially the ones that hoped to gain certain favors from you.
Yet he noticed that when you were alone in the quiet, hidden dell, you let your guard down in more ways than one. You looked at peace with your eyes closed and face lifted towards the sun like an exotic flower. Your faithful weapons were set aside and seemingly forgotten about while you were here. It was in this place you sought solace from your companions and the tasks and responsibilities heaped upon your shoulders.
He vowed to stand guard so your face would never have to shed that look of serenity, causing you to appear ethereal.
Now though, he trailed behind you to provide comfort and companionship. Even if he was not right next to you physically. He silently hoped somehow you could feel his presence and know that you were not alone. That you did not have to grieve alone.
It had been four days since the news of your mother's tragic and unexpected death had reached Kattegat's shores. Every day you accepted the condolences with a genuine smile and continued to train and spend time with your companions like normal. It was when you ventured here, into your safe haven, that your pain finally spilled out onto the ground. Staining the earth around you with your grief and tears. Tainting the air with your heartbreak.
And Ivar kept to the shadows, watching, waiting, making sure no one disturbed you.
Today, your weeping was not all-consuming, but still enough for Ivar's hands to itch in some misguided attempt to comfort you. Once the outpouring of your grief ceased, you wiped the tear tracks from your cheeks with the sleeve of your tunic. Only the gurgling stream and the bird calls filled the air.
With a weary sigh, you stood up and stretched. Ivar could not help the way his gaze slid over your perfect body, touching as much of you with his eyes as he could. For never would you allow him to touch you with his dirty hands. You were too perfect and he was….he was beneath you in every way.
Ivar prepared to slither back and hide as you ascended up the slope of the cliff and make your way back to Kattegat. A dance the two of you had done for the fortnight now that Ivar had been watching over you. Even if you were unaware of the dance you participated in.
Just as you reached your hand out to grab your weapons, laying on a nearby stone, you froze.
Your head slowly, cautiously, hesitantly, turned to the right. Your body was still bent with your hand outstretched, as if the weapons lay forgotten in that moment. Your eyes were glued to the trees across the shallow stream. Tension sung a melody throughout your body as you carefully straightened from your crouch. The sword now gripped in your hand like a lifeline.
Fear and concern kept his fierce gaze locked on you and on the trees, wondering what you saw, desperate to know what had you so on edge.
Then Ivar saw it….
….and a shiver of terror trickled down his spine.
Moving silently and with an unnaturally, graceful prowl, the wolf stepped out from behind the trees across the small stream. Flaming red like the fires of Muspelheim colored its eyes. An inky, black coat covered its body, appearing to absorb the filtering sunlight like a black hole. Fangs emerged from its snout, as long as Ivar's dagger and twice as sharp. The wolf easily stood as tall as a horse, yet its presence conveyed more. As if it's massive body still struggled to contain all of it.
Ivar gaped. For he knew before him had to be a spawn of Fenrir, sent to Midgard for nothing less than to wallow in carnage, to drink the blood of all it devoured and to create chaos with each of its powerful footfalls.
And at the moment, it's destructive gaze was set on you.
It's lips curled back in a snarl. The growl that left it's throat could make mountains shake in terror. Nature itself silenced to give way to the creature that commanded attention and awe-inspiring horror. Then one massive paw lifted, proceeding another, bringing it a step closer in it's prowl. Those burning eyes never left you the whole time.
At its step closer, you swiftly shifted your stance, hands gripping your sword with a death-like grip. From where he hid, Ivar could see the tremors of trepidation careening through your body. Yet even in your terror, you refused to go down without a fight. Even in the face of what was certainly death itself, you stood your ground. Denying it from taking your soul easily.
In that moment, Ivar knew what he had to do. Never had he been so certain of his actions. It felt like Odin himself placed a hand on his shoulder in guidance and reassurance. Viciously, he shoved down the fear and dread clawing at his limbs. He refused to watch you fight alone. He refused to let you die. Not you, his Valkyrie, his goddess.
With a guttural warcry, he shoved himself forward. Half crawling, half falling down the cliff's slope, he finally touched the mossy ground and crawled his way over to where you stood, ready to defend yourself from the monstrous creature.
Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, wide with determination and dread, but you made no further move.
Wordlessly, he passed you, crawling until he was between you and the stream. The wolf remained on the other side of the stream, watching with a malicious glint in it's gaze. Then it took another powerful step closer. The water from the stream caressing its front paws, only to retreat as if nature itself feared the creature.
From just behind him, you softly whispered his name but he did not turn his head, never removing his gaze from the wolf.
Piercing, blue eyes locked with burning, red eyes.
Ivar reached back and unsheathed the dagger he kept strapped to his thigh. A gift from Floki. With iron in hand, Ivar unleashed his own furious growl.
"Come on! Don't you know who I am?" He yelled at the creature, born of darkness and fire. He smacked his chest with the flat of his dagger. "I am Ivar the Boneless! You can't kill me! Now come on!"
The air crackled like lightning and thunder covered the sky, even though no clouds could be seen in the vast, blue sky. Time ceased, the Norns pausing their eternal spinning to bare witness. A life thread would be cut today. Ivar refused to let it be yours.
The spawn of Fenrir released a howl that seemed to shake the very ground they stood on. The trees quaked and trembled. The water swirled under the sheer force of it's howl.
A righteous fury arose like a storm within Ivar. Tremendous waves that would break ships crashed and roiled just under his skin.
"What are you waiting for? I laugh at death!" Ivar taunted. "Come on! I shall kill you today!"
Red eyes remained locked with blue eyes.
A terrifying snarl escaped past the confines of it's mouth. It lifted a paw, ready to place it in the water, ready to cross and bring forth the destruction it was bred for.
Then it stopped.
A sneer played on the face of the youngest Ragnarsson. He knew that even if the creature killed him, Odin would happily welcome him into Valhalla. For what greater honor would there be but to fight a monster the gods themselves feared and to win. Even if it ushered in his own death. What did he need to fear with the knowledge of Valhalla waiting for him.
He only hoped to spare you from the dangerous touch of death. It was not yet time for you to return to the gods.
Suddenly, the wolf dropped it's paw back to the mossy ground. Lowering it's head slightly, those furious eyes remained fixated on Ivar. Lips curled back in a silent snarl.
Then as if a spell had been broken, it took a step back in retreat.
And then another.
And another.
Slowly, it slicked back into the covering of the surrounding forest. Red eyes never leaving the blue eyes that gazed after it in confusion. It's black coat blended into the shadows of the forest. Just as silently as it arrived, destruction promised with each step, it disappeared.
Neither Ivar or you moved for several minutes. Tension and adrenaline hummed through your veins as you both waited for the monsterous wolf to return. In those minutes, time itself restarted once more. Nature reemerged from where it had hid. The singing of birds filled the air and the quiet gurgles of the stream coaxed a resemblance of peace again. Even the sunlight streamed down warmer and brighter than before.
"Ivar, are you alright?" You asked, once you must have deemed it safe to move. With your sword still in hand, you dropped onto your knees next to him.
Taking a deep breath like he had been underwater for too long, he shifted his body around to sit on his ass. In the movement, he accidently brought himself closer to you. His heart faltered when he realized the proximity he unintentionally created. Your breath fanned across his face as you stared wide-eyed at him. It took an embarrassingly long moment for his brain to remember your question and not get lost in your alluring eyes and intoxicating presence.
"Uh, I'm….I'm fine….and you?"
"I…." You shook your head then turned your face to look in the direction the wolf disappeared to. "What was that?"
"I don't know. Do you think it's gone?"
"I hope so."
He blinked as he stared at the expanse of trees across the stream. How could a creature like that just appear then disappear? What had drawn it forth? Would it come for Kattegat next? Should he tell his mother about this? Did they need to prepare Kattegat for a war with this enemy of the gods themselves?
Feeling eyes on him, he turned back, startled to find you staring at him. "What?"
"It….it was you….you scared it away."
"What?" He accidently barked in surprise.
You huffed, still kneeling next to him. "Ivar, think about it. Something like that. A creature like that!" You gestured in the direction the wolf had been. "The only reason it would back down would be if it met a bigger predator than itself."
His mind froze. Refusing to decipher your statement. Unable to believe the words coming from your mouth and their meaning. His insecurities battled with the unknown truth now spoken aloud.
A gentle hand cupped the side of his face, causing his heart to soar under your touch, forcing his eyes to meet yours. Something swirled and danced in your eyes, threatening to drag him under and drown him. As long as you continued to behold him like this, to touch him like this, he would readily drown in you.
Your thumb stroked his cheekbone as you whispered, something akin to admiration in your tone. "I think…. I think we have all underestimated you, Ivar the Boneless."
Words tangled up in knots on his tongue. An embarrassing warmth colored his cheeks as he flushed under your praise. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he had somehow died and this was Valhalla.
"You are made to do great things. Even Fenrir cannot stop you from your destiny it would seem." You stared into his eyes, searching, seeking, finding, reevaluating. Then you ever so slowly drew closer. With the softest of caresses, you pressed your lips against his cheek for a moment before drawing back. "Thank you….for coming to my aid….for defending me. I won't ever forget it."
Air was no longer needed to breathe. Gravity no longer tethered him to the ground. For all Ivar knew, he could float amongst the clouds now.
A sweet giggle brought him out of his inner revelry, along with the feeling of your hand gently caressing his face on its way down to land back in your lap. He immediately missed the sensation of your touch and wished he had the words to ask you to return it.
Smiling, you smoothly glided to your feet. After one last look towards where death had stood not long ago, you glanced back down at your companion. "Come on, Prince Ivar. We should be getting back before the sun sets."
He nodded his agreement. Although, truthfully, he wished to linger in your presence, this intimate, comfortable moment that you found yourselves in. To maybe find the courage to ask you to allow him to touch you, to caress your face or hold your hand, even for just a brief second. Instead, he watched you wander over and grab your sword's sheath from the ground where it had previously laid. Skillfully, you slipped your sword into its sheath and then onto your hip. Lastly, you tucked a dagger back into your boot and one up your sleeve before turning around to face him.
"Besides, after this, I feel like you've earned the right to travel by my side instead of following me and then hiding in those bushes above. I can't imagine it's comfortable." You teased with a wink.
A blush returned to stain his cheeks at being caught. It did nothing to stop his heart from soaring at the notion that you would not reject his presence in the future. That maybe it would just be the two of you again in your safe haven. On second thought, he might suggest a new location for you to find solace after this….encounter.
He watched you scurry up the slope nimbly. Once at the top, you turned around to wait for him with a smile on your face. A beautiful, beaming smile….for him. His heart thudded in his chest as he gazed back at you.
Carefully, he slipped the dagger back into his sheath on his thigh and prepared the grueling climb up the side of the cliff. But knowing you waited at the top for him, it was worth it.
On instinct, Ivar turned to look towards the spot where the wolf had been. Nothing remained that showed of the creature that had stood there only minutes ago. Almost as it was a mirage instead of flesh and blood. A bloodthirsty grin spread over his lips as he thought about the words you said. How it was him that caused the wolf to back down. How it was him that the beast recognized as the greater predator.
With that in mind, he turned to follow you up the slope.
Even with his useless legs, even with his insecurities and faults, even with the doubt and pity spewed upon him daily that made his blood boil in rage….even with all of that, he was still the apex predator.
Maybe the blessing of Odin had not abandoned him after all.
Summary: Ubbe wants you to carry his seed. You want to live in solidarity. Only one of you can have their way and slaves never get what they want which means you can only dream a hopeless dream.
You've been told by many men that you're beautiful, that you look like a goddess. That you're the woman they would like to see grow big with their child. Of course, you never had a choice when it came to Ubbe Ragnarsson.
He chose you as his slave when you came in with the other thralls at the market in Kattegat, but he wasn't going to use you to clean up and serve food. No, he intended to breed you so that his seed would carry on strong.
"It's a wonderful thing being a mother. Having the gift to bring life into the world is like a miracle from the Gods. And I know a lot of women will be jealous of you having the opportunity to bring this child into the world. You should be happy to be here," Aslaug told you when Ubbe announced your pregnancy.
But you're not happy to be here. You didn't want to be a mother. You planned on being a shieldmaiden when you were a child. Fighting in the Shield Wall seemed to be like a dream to you and it's what you held onto when you were taken as a slave.
After meeting Ubbe and being in Kattegat, your dreams and plans changed. You long to just be alone. You want to live in a cabin in the woods, by yourself where you can do whatever you want and invite in whoever you want and kill whoever you don't want to be near you. Being alone is the dream you cling onto, one that you know will never happen now that there is a child growing in your stomach.
Obviously, your unhappiness doesn't go unnoticed by the father of your child. He's kept quiet through the months, thinking that in time you'd get that glow of pregnancy and you'd soon feel that happiness of becoming a mother.
But now that you're about to give birth any day now, he's getting irritated with your constant melancholy.
"You are not happy," he states with a monotone voice as he walks into the room, making your head snap over your shoulder to look back at him.
You watch him place his weapon down at the door of the room, something you always make sure he does before you talk to him because you can never be sure what he'll do next to you and you're not sure if carrying his child will be enough to stop him from killing you. Though, sometimes you think that's not a bad idea.
"How can I be when I wanted none of this?" you mutter, taking your hand off of the large, round burden you carry.
"And what did you want? To live out in the woods like an outcast?"
"If it meant I'd be unbothered by you and everyone else in your fucking family then yes," you hiss, snapping around to face him with a hateful glare in your eyes.
Ubbe smirks at you, thinking how feisty you have become since being with his child. You would never talk like this to him before, but now it's a nice change. It makes the fight all the more fun.
Your glare dies when he starts walking towards you, your heart skipping a beat as your mind raced with thoughts of what he could do next. Would he beat you? Would he lay his hands on you while carrying his child or is he going to wait until you give birth and then 'discipline' you for all the things you had done wrong during your pregnancy? Or are his words going to be a knife to cut you now?
"Why do you wish to hurt my heart, (Y/n)? After everything I have done for you?" he whispers, placing his hand over his heart as he comes to stand in front of you.
You tell yourself to not feel guilty, that these are words to make you feel that way. You won't let him. "You have done nothing for me-"
"I have spared you from a life of burden. Would you rather work 'til your hands bleed everyday and you cannot stand because your feet are blistered?'' he asks, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You try to pull your hand away from him, but it just follows you. "I have given you the mercy all thralls wish for. You won't have to work as they do. All you have to do is be a mother to the children I give you."
You swallow roughly and bite the inside of your cheek when you feel him rest his hand on the swell of your stomach. "Then why don't you free me so that your children don't come from a slave?"
Ubbe laughs, drops his eyes to your stomach, and swipes his thumb over the material covering the home of his heir. Any day now and he will hold what he hopes is his son in his arms. "You would have too much freedom then. I fear that if I free you, you will leave for the pathetic dream to live alone in the woods. And I cannot have that," he says, leaning down to try and place a kiss on your lips.
But you turn your head, making his lips land on your cheek. "I promised the Gods when I saw you that I would never let you go and I would keep you as mine until one of us stops breathing. I intend to keep my promise to them," he whispers in your ear, his voice making a shiver run up your spine and a shaky breath leave your lips.
"What makes you think the Gods care about your dreams?"
"What makes you think they care about yours?" he asks back, stepping away from you with a coy smile on his face. "They would have done something to save you by now if they cared. But here you are and here you will stay."
You were told so many times how your motherly instincts will kick in the moment you hold your baby but all you could do was cry. Everyone thought that they were tears of joy. None of them knew that you were crying because you knew that your dream is now too far out of reach.
You waited for that feeling of motherly nurture to fill you, but every time you look at the son you birthed you couldn't help but feel hatred for what they represent to you. It made Ubbe happy to have a son, but you know that soon he will ask for another.
No, we won't ask. He will force another on you.
Hearing Ubbe walking into the room, you don't bother turning your head to acknowledge him because you know he's only here for one thing. "Your son is with your mother," you bluntly say, staring at the wall in front of you as you pull the pelt of fur tighter around you.
"I know. I asked her to keep him for the night," Ubbe says.
You can hear him taking his clothes off, your eyes closing in dread as a sob catches in your throat. You had only finished bleeding a few days ago and the healers have said that you are able to carry another child. It was only a matter of time before Ubbe made that happen.
He walks over to you, around the bed, and stands right in front of you. Lifting your head up by placing two fingers under your chin, you open your eyes to look at him, and a tear slips out to roll down your cheek.
You don't want to fight anymore. You can't bring yourself to fight. You can't find the strength to push away the numb feeling inside you to fight Ubbe about this.
And he notices this.
"Don't worry, (Y/n)," he soothes, wiping the tear off your cheek while caressing your cheek. "Your fire will come back once you're carrying my child again."
He pushes the pelt of fur off your shoulder, smiling to himself when he finds that you're already naked. Probably because you didn't bother getting dressed after taking a bath.
"I want a daughter," he whispers, making you lie down on the fur that had wrapped your body like a gift to him.
"Fine," you mutter, turning your head to the side as he crawls over you, kissing his way down your neck, over your chest, and across your body.
All you can do is close your eyes and think about your cabin in the woods, the peace you would have as a free woman, the life you would have without being treated like a breeding bitch.
Perhaps you would take the daughter Ubbe wants with you to save her from the way she would be treated. You have a feeling that she won't have the same respect a legitimate daughter of Ubbe Ragnarsson would have. She would be known as your daughter first and foremost. The daughter of a whore. No woman deserves that.
But that's all a dream now. A pathetic, lost dream that will never see the light of day.
Did you enjoy this? Like my work? Support me and buy me a Ko-fi HERE!
Another 400 Followers request and oh boy, this one was such fun. @ritual-unions-gotme asked for:
On my drive to work I realized I would like to request another moodboard and then I promise I’ll leave you alone, for ubbe x reader / y/n but make it thirsty, like extra thirsty
Well. I tried 😏
All images and the gif from Pinterest. I got the picture of Jordan in the first and fourth one from @vikingsbifrost and the screencap in the second and third one were provided by @captainkilly. Thanks again!
Whenever Ubbe towered over her like this, she felt so small and vulnerable. But now, (Y/N) felt nothing but anger. He promised her so much. And then married the slave, Margrethe.
But she forgave him, how foolish she was—waiting for him like a lovesick fool, desperate for affection. A starving bitch in heat, that's what she was.
Taking care of Hvitserk while Ubbe spent time with his new lover Torvi was just another sad moment in (Y/N) life.
Braiding Hvitserk's freshly washed hair while he let out whimpering noises from time to time was not how she imagined her life. She was meant to marry Ubbe and carry his babies. Her strong, gentle, and honest lover.
That son of a bitch was a cheater like his father and brothers. (Y/N) clenched her teeth and stormed out of the hut, stomping her way to the Great Hall where Ubbe sat next to Torvi and Bjorn. "Your brother is in bad shape."
"Medically?"
"His sanity is gone. He sees Ivar everywhere, and you are sitting here! For so long, you complained how you missed him, and now when he is back, you spend time with your half brother and his wives!"
Ubbe stood from his seat and walked over to her. He towered over her once again, anger radiating from both of them. "He is responsible for what happened to him. He drunk and drugged himself into this state. If he left with me like he was supposed to, he wouldn't be like this."
(Y/N) scoffed and jabbed her finger into his chest. "All this talk about loving and protecting your brothers. And when they do something that you don't like, you abandon them. Just like everyone in your life. Margrethe was no saint, but she didn't deserve to be tied up like a rabid dog!"
"(Y/N). Watch your tongue."
"You have no right to tell me what to do! I am sick and tired of being your thrall instead of a lover. Do this, do that! And while I grab your weapon for you, you propose to a slave! Finally, you divorce her, but for your brother's ex-wife. And while you fuck her, I clean up Hvitserk's vomit from his hair. I am sick of it. Sick of you! "
"This is your last warning, (Y/N). Stop challenging me, or it will end badly for you."
(Y/N) chuckled and smirked at Ubbe. Not at all worried by his glare. "Do your worst, coward. Hiding behind your mother's killer and father's name. All your empty words and threats are getting tiring, Ubbe. If you can't face me like a man and tell me you don't want me, then you are not worth my time. I should have left you a long time ago. But better late than never. I am a free woman, and you are a pathetic man-child who idolizes the wrong people."
With that, she stormed out, leaving everyone behind shocked. Ubbe sped after her, murder in his eyes as he cornered her against a wall. "(Y/N)! What in Odin's name was that?"
She snorted at his spat out words and showed him the necklace he gave her a year ago. "You gave me your mother's necklace and told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. Now you avoid me like the plague. What do you think would happen?"
"I did what was necessary."
"Fucking Torvi? Marrying Margrethe? What, did they hold a knife to your throat and order you to do it? You made your choice, and I made mine. I want children with a man that can commit, not just fuck and leave. There are plenty of men around for that."
Ubbe sighed and brushed her hair away from her face. "I never wanted to hurt you. I did what I had to do. I made a choice, but you can't leave."
"Why? Will you kill me? Tie me up or make me a slave?"
"Marry you."
"WHAT?!"
"I want you. But mother wouldn't allow it. As her oldest, I had to marry someone better for the kingdom. Margrethe was a chess piece, Torvi's children need a father. Torvi doesn't need a husband but someone who will help her. Lagerha needs to die, and the best way is to make her think she has an ally in me. I am angry at Hvitserk for choosing Ivar, angry at Ivar for making me feel inferior and angry at Bjorn for doing the same."
"What about me?"
"When mother is avenged, I will sit on the throne as she intended me to. But as king, I can choose my own queen. And I choose you. Not Torvi or Margrethe or any other woman. I want you (Y/N). I am sorry for making you feel like a disposable fucktoy. You are my heart and soul. When all of this is over... Would you still marry me? Choose me? Not for the crown but for me and my dumb habits."
(Y/N) smiled at his honest words and nodded. Whispering yes into his ear so no one else can hear. "Say that again." He begged against her forehead.
"I will marry you, Ubbe. I choose you, so don't make me regret the choice. I still stand by words, though. I don't regret those."
"Fair enough, wife." He teased, making her chuckled and punch him in the chest.
"Come visit Hvitserk. You can't conquer a kingdom all on your own. The sons of Ragnar Lothbrok are strongest when together."
