Thank you to @purplemilk27 for the tag!
Thought I would share a snippet of the next chapter of Viking Fic (aka Long My Love Awaited)
“Whoa,” Gale cued, lightly tugging the reins to compel his horse to a halt. Behind him, the others mirrored him and gave similar commands, readily falling silent once they noticed they were not alone anymore.
“Gale?” Astarion asked nervously. Soreness temporarily shelved, Astarion stared at the encroaching group, looking for potential hallmarks signifying they were cause for concern. While not well versed in identifying friends from foes, Astarion didn’t detect any signs that these people were the bandits potentially stalking this forest in search of new targets. In fact, there was something oddly regal about the woman in front despite the severe lines wrinkling her visage.
Gale lifted a hand, indicating for everyone to remain quiet and calm. A few murmurs resonated behind him, but they all did as directed. Next to him, Astarion retreated back a few paces which put him out of the potential line of fire should this impromptu encounter go south.
After a few terse seconds, the small band of travellers stopped directly ahead of them. Gale exchanged glances with the woman, noting her deep auburn irises that glimmered with intrigue and self-importance. This was no ordinary Dane they’d stumbled upon, but someone with status who was more than willing to flaunt it. Gale knew he had to tread carefully.
No pressure tags for @completelyrottenthings, @daledikarios, and @imarobot333
Not really about Vikings, I just didn’t know how else to describe them, but basically, Red and a young Edge venture out from their frozen island homeland on a mission around the mainland that will last years on foot and by boat to set up trade routes to their tribe.
Along the way, they stumble across a human child drowning in a raging river. Red fishes them out and Edge pleads to keep them(they are similar in age). Red reluctantly agrees to bring them along, and thus, a mini found family has been made. Almost a decade later, their trade routes are finished and Red and Edge can go back to their skeleton tribe, this time with a friend.
<I just wrote the dialogue, liked it a lot and wanted to make it into something ok? T_T>
SUMMARY: You're the daughter of a foreign jarl who hasn't chosen sides in the war of young Lothbroks. Neither can you. The consequences would be far-reaching and dire. However, your will is not as strong as your father's and should Hvitserk ask, you know the guilt will not stop you from being by his side. The question is: will he?
WORDCOUNT: ~ 1k
People call that arrangement by different names: between the Devil and the deep sea, between a hammer and an anvil or between a rock and a hard place. No matter where the point actually is, Hvitserk is there. And it shows.
Has he made the right choice siding with Ivar? Was the choice ever his to make? What if Ivar, desiring your father's great army, whispered a few sweet words into your beloved's ear?
You're watching him stare at the ceiling in your hut. For the first time since you've met him, Hvitserk's eyes are vacant. Normally shining with mischief and his merry persona, now they're empty. Dead. He starts to feel like somebody else.
Hvitserk's fingers are slowly dragging against your skin, painting patterns with no rhythm or merit. Truthfully, he seems to be oblivious to his little habit.
Examining his profile, you can see your shield in the corner of your eye. The green paint on it is supposed to symbolise vitality and greed but now, considering the consequence of the days to come, it's the colour of grief and fear. Behind the shield is hidden your sword, freshly sharpened. Hvitserk was eager to do it for you and at first, you thought it was just him doing something for you like he always does, but now, watching his chest rise and fall in ragged breaths, you're beginning to think he just wanted to have something to do. Some way to occupy his busy mind.
The inside of your home is warm - the countless furs and burning fire. Despite that, your body feels cold as though the dread residing in the pit of your stomach is already pulling you towards your grave. Whether literal or figurative, you're not quite sure.
"Can you promise me something?" you whisper. The sound of your voice is quiet enough to almost be drowned out by the cracking firewood.
But Hvitserk heard you. He listened. Like he always does.
He tilts his head to look at you. Your noses are maybe an inch apart. His lips are curved into a smile but the sad, blank look in his eyes has stayed; his freight is arrogant enough to make itself at home inside his mind.
"Anything you want, love," Hvitserk whispers back. His breath is warm on your cold cheeks. It smells slightly sour like dry wine.
"Do not ask me to join the battle. Do not ask me to fight your brothers." You swallow your tears. The love you hold for him would not only make you defy your father but carelessly start a chain of horrid events that not even Kattegat's Seer could completely envision. Knowing your own weakness, you have to trust that maybe Hvitserk can save you from yourself. "Because I would." A bitter scoff escapes your throat. "Gods know I would do terrible things if you asked me to."
Hvitserk appears unmoved by your confession. His smile grows unnoticeably wider as his palm rests on the side of your face. A stray tear, slowly rolling down your cheek, is swept away by a gentle brush of his thumb.
"But I won't." His tone is decisive. "I don't have to heart to do so."
Instead of staring at the wooden ceiling, Hvitserk is now watching your face. The same strangely vacant and yet intense look haunts his eyes. Something akin to determination shows in his expression as though the answer to his plight is written on your face in a language he can almost decipher. If he stays up all night, looking at you, maybe by the first light of dawn, he will know exactly what he's supposed to do.
"Tell me you'll come back," you interrupt the silence once again.
Both of you know he can't say it with certainty. Nevertheless, lovers tend to believe they can somehow enchant reality.
"Of course I will," Hvitserk says with conviction. He almost makes you believe there is no other option. "Dying in battle and seeing my father in Valhalla is something I'm dreaming of but if living means I get to see you one more time, I will cling to life like a man gone mad."
Although you know his poetics through and through, they never fail to make your heart flutter. Judging by Hvitserk's stubbornness in saying them, he knows the effect he has on you and enjoys it greatly. His usual humour and charming demeanour fool you for a moment that nothing of great importance is about to happen. It's just another night like many you've had with him and are going to have.
"You speak in such a beautiful way, I often wonder if your words are honest."
His hand moves from the side of your face to cradle the nape of your neck. Hvitserk pulls you in gently and kisses you in an equally tender manner. His lips linger against yours, it's almost sentimental.
"They sound beautiful only because they are honest," he tells you. This time his kiss is more intense. "How else am I supposed to speak to a beautiful woman if not with beautiful words?"
Your giggling breaks the kiss. For a moment, you swear you could hear his low chuckle; for a moment, the world was just right.
Hvitserk's eyes aren't blank anymore. Now, there's a turmoil of happiness and sadness inside them. If a kiss is what brought him back to life then maybe he wasn't simply being charming when he compared you to a goddess countless times.
A playful smile creeps onto your face. Gently, you drag your fingers against his chest. Hvitserk inhales sharply.
"Well, I've heard beautiful women also like crude, dirty words."
"Do they?" he asks with faux surprise. Hvitserk pushes you on your back and puts his weight on top of you. His warm hand is brushing against your bare thigh. "Tell me more," he murmurs against the soft skin of your neck.
Summary: You are one of the slaves Harald has brought back from raiding. You pretend to be mute in the hopes he'd leave you alone. But that proves to be more difficult as it looks with a temper like yours.
Warnings: language, mentions of slavery, sexual themes-I mean c'mon this is vikings lol
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Brute.
Savage.
Pig.
Bastard.
The number of insults youd called your captor since he'd stolen you away from your home had been endless. Those heathens has attacked deep into the night and before you knew it you had been tied up and shoved onto one of their savage ships.
Youd never forget how it felt when you were being pursued by your captor-Harald they called him. The viking man chased you deep into the forest and it was your mistake of looking back for only a moment that had your tripping over a root which resulted in strong arms grabbing you within seconds.
What irked you the most was how he seemed to be enjoying it all, the chase the capture, as if he and his people hadn't been slaughtering innocents all night.
The boat ride back was tortuous, you thought for sure the cold would take you to the afterlife but no such luck. Like the rest of your life you had been stubborn. And it seemed that even death would not take you even when you caught a fever halfway back.
You don't know why you decided not to speak. He did try talking to you, first in your language then in others. He grew a bit irritated but with a split second decision you decided to motion to your mouth. His brows furrowed before he finally spoke again, "You cannot speak?"
You nodded angrily and watched him contemplate. You had a feeling these men enjoyed fiery women, perhaps that was why he chased you- because you threw a rather large rock at his head, then your broom, then your fathers old hunting knife....your aim had been shit though, only cutting his cheek. You expected him to be angry, not smile when he saw the blood. Saxon men liked demure women, viking men liked fighters...
So maybe if you showed him that you weren't as fiery and bold has he thought, you could survive in this new hell.
It's been several weeks since you arrived at his household. You were prepared for the worst, you knew how viking men treated their women slaves...
However perhaps feigning mute was the reason the heathen didn't throw you down and have his way with you. Instead he had you prepare his meals and care for his rooms. Not to mention doing whatever the else he ordered you to do. You couldn't wait for him to go raiding again, maybe then you could have some peace.
You were currently prepping a bath per his request. You poured his favorite oil in, the soothing scent making you long for back home when youd relax yourself in the tub and lay your head down on the back.
Sighing you stepped back hearing the creak of the door open.
The bastard himself walked in, steps heavy from a long day of whatever it was he did. You held back a wince as the smell of sweat and mud hit you.
As per routine you helped him disrobe. You threw his clothing in the bucket you would have to take to the lake to wash tommorow.
He motioned for you to help him which meant today he wanted you to wash his hair.
He soon relaxed into your touch, if you had the stomach for it youd take advantage of these moments and strangle him with something. You liked to fantasize that you didn't have the strength of an ant.
Your anger began to rise at how powerless you were. Perhaps if saxon women were taught to fight, your home wouldn't have been so utterly defeated.
All those years of being forced to learn silly little things like sewing and mending seemed so stupid now.
If only you could- "Are you trying to claw out my brain?" You instantly eased up, not realizing your anger had seeped to your massaging fingers.
You had so many remarks on the tip of your tongue but held back. Your mute, you must remember that....
"You know little mouse, it's a shame you cannot speak, I can only imagine the sharp things that mouth of yours would say" he smirked.
"Tell me, have you always been mute?"
He tilted his head a but up to look at you. You nodded yes. Hoping he would leave it alone.
"Hmm" he hummed.
You began to dip a cup into the water to rinse his hair. Once upon a time you would have been horrified to be this close to a man unmarried but now you hardly even blinked.
"For someone with the eyes of a tiger, you certainly listen to orders well, I admit I thought by now you would've tried to kill me in my sleep.." he said amusedly.
Just you wait you stupid oaf.
Once you finished with his hair he let you continue your other tasks in his room. You were prepping his bed when a comment from him made your blood boil.
"Its a shame a beautiful woman like yourself can't talk...I can only imagine the pretty little sounds youd make under me..." he laughed as soon as you whipped around in anger.
Your reaction exactly what he wanted. "Such amusing faces you make little slave...relax I was only joking, no need for those murderous eyes" you jerked back to your task. Annoyed at him but then annoyed at yourself for not being able to control your emotions.
It didnt help that the reflection in the mirror showed him lazily propped over the side, eyeing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Why is he just staring...What is that stupid brute planning..
You tensed when he began to rise out of the water. The water sloshing until finally his full body was out.
Begrudgingly you handed him the drying towel not meeting his smug eyes.
You frowned when he didn't take it, "Wrap me"
Wrap yourself you heathen pig...
Is what you wanted to say but instead you did as you were told.
You were standing close enough that you could feel the steam of the bath still radiating off his body. The white cloth in your hands swung around to his waist and everything below it. You kept your eyes averted as if your life depended on it. Cheeks heated from anger...or so you told yourself.
You felt him chuckle lowly. "Surely I'm not the first man you've been this close to?" You chose to ignore him and focused on quickly tying the cloth. You made to step back but was slightly alarmed when he grabbed your arm. You met his eyes, finding devilish charm in them, devilish charm that may work on other women but not you.
"You didn't answer me mouse, am I the first?" he smirked.
You couldn't hold back the eye roll and decided to squash his mirth.
You mouthed no without a sound, making the best "please get over yourself" look.
"Oh? Is that so?" For some reason this only seemed to amuse him more.
You tried to pull your arm away which only resulted in him tightening his hold and pulling you closer.
"If that is true, then perhaps I need not hold back anymore?" His eyes glinted with something that made your heart beat a bit faster- out of fear and perhaps something else you couldn't quite place yet.
You felt the dam holding back your anger begin to break. You were afraid yes, but your stubborn anger always overpowered in the end.
You couldn't hold the deadly glare you gave him. Already plotting the many ways youd kill him after this.
He began to chuckle again, "Those eyes of yours could cut glass.."
Ooh glass, good idea...yes maybe youd break the mirror and stab him. How amazing that would be...
"You should be thankful, I've given you plenty of time to adjust, most others wouldn't have been so generous..."
Generous?! Is he serious?!?
You clenched your fist and tried to fight out of his grasp once again, but he easily held you in place. Damn these vikings and their godlike strength...
"Relax mouse, I know you'll warm up to me soon, in fact...I'll help you warm up right now" suddenly you felt his grip shift to hold more of your body-then your world was spinning then-
SPLASH
It took you a moment to realize what had just happened. Your nose burned and eyes forced shut. The water shocking you and any sane thoughts out the window.
It was like you had been possessed. The dam on your emotions breaking just as your head broke from the water. And from there you saw red.
"Y-y-you!! You heathen bastard!! I'll kill you where you stand!! How dare you treat me like some common whore!! Just you wait I'm going to punch that smug smirk right off your stupid face!! How can you vikings be so-so-s-so...." your trailed off as you realized your grave mistake. Your chest heaving, body dripping eyes wide. Looking more like a raging bull than a woman.
Haralds eyes were widened in shock and his mouth slightly agape. Not expecting that you were faking this at all.
It wasn't soon before his expression was replaced with that akin to a wolf who had just caught his next meal. Eyes twinkling dangerously, mouth grinning wide.
"Oho, what's this?" He stalked closer to your panicking form.
"I-I I um!" Ironically you had no words to say now...
"Oh no no,don't hold back now little mouse" he eyed you wildly excited at this new revelation.
"S-stay back or-" you shuffled in the water.
"Or what? Please tell me...what will you do?" When he reached the tub you tried to jump out the back but ended up tripping on the wet material of your dress.
You jerked when you felt strong arms catch you then lift you out. You tried to pound your fists on him , afraid what he would do now that he caught you in a lie.
Your panic was at an all time high when you felt yourself bounce on the soft furs of his bed.
"If you touch me I'll kill you..." you hated that your voice wavered.
"You can try little mouse...you can try but then youd never know..." you watched as he bent his head down to your ear.
The heathens lips dangerously close to the tip of your flesh. "You'd never know of the pleasure that only I could give you..." he blew a puff of hot air that involuntary made you squeak even though you tried to hold it back.
He hovered back over you. His eyes dark with something you'd never seen before in a man. His smile like the devil as he held you pinned to the warm furs.
"Heh Not so quiet now mouse hmm?"
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Ah my first Vikings Valhalla fic! I just wanted to get something out, I did struggle to write Harald so I hope hes not to ooc. Please comment and lemme know what you think! Xoxo
Warnings: My timeline and the shows timeline inconsistencies.
Word Count: 2,305
Author’s note: it’s kind of angsty? I love Ivar and I love suffering so here you go. I will probably write a second part, just because I don’t want this part to be too long. Please let me know what you guys think! I also didn’t edit it, so if you see any mistakes let me know.
Summary: Ivar must choose between the love of the man who abandoned him and the love of a woman he promised to never abandon.
Masterlist
Pt 2 // Pt 3
“What do you mean you’re leaving?!” A hurt Y/N shouted through tears as she stared at her best friend of years and recent lover.
Ivar stared back, with his impatient blue eyes. “I’m going with my father Y/N” he repeated again. “Which part confused you?” His condescending tone, a mask to hide that he was truly sad to be leaving her. Y/N grabbed the first thing on her dresser, a brush, and threw it...hard. Ivar skillfully dodged it. “That almost hit me woman” he growled.
“Yes. That was the point Ivar. Better I kill you than the saxons, or worse, your own father” She couldn’t believe her ears. After years of friendship, they finally had the courage to admit they had more than friendly feelings toward each other. Then came Ragnar and Ivar ran to him, like a dog whose long lost owner came back.
“No one is going to kill me Y/N.” Ivar took a deep breath to calm himself then chuckled at seeing her red face. She cared. He could tell that she truly cared for him and he didn’t know why. She was better off without him, a cripple, bringing her down. He saw the way people looked at them together, he heard the whispers. “Except perhaps for you” he tried joking to ease her anger. It worked, slightly. She rolled her eyes and walked over to him, dropping to her knees in front of him, to be more at eye level as he sat on her bed.
“I’m scared of losing you. I just found you. We just found each other” she whispered, her hand resting on his cheek. He leaned into her soft touch and smiled, his eyes closing.
“You’re not going to lose me. I’ll come back to you...Eventually” his words brought her no comfort. She knew she couldn’t just sit around and hope that he was alive and well. So she did the one thing she promised herself she’d never do to anyone. She gave him an impossible choice, in the hopes of convincing him to stay.
“Then you’ll lose me” she stated coldly as she removed her hand. Ivar’s eyes opened wide as he looked at her, waiting for further explanation.
“Wh-What do you mean?” He mumbled, his hands trying to seek out hers.
“If you go with your father, I will not wait for you Ivar. Stay with me or lose me” she couldn’t look into his blue eyes without tears threatening to run down her face. Though as hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop them. She slowly inched closer to him, her lips a centimeter from his. “Please Ivar. Choose me, choose happiness, stay with me, marry me” her voice broke on her last words as she pleaded with him. He leaned in and closed the gap between their faces, pressing his lips against hers as hard as he could. Trying to memorize every inch of her lips, the taste of her tongue in his mouth, the way she whimpered softly when he bit her lip and the way her eyes fluttered open when he pulled away, begging for more. Her eyes were filled with hope, and it broke his heart that he now had to break hers.
“I can’t” he whispered almost inaudible, but by the look on her face, he knew she heard him. She stood up and wiped her eyes. “Please understand. I have to do this. I have to prove myself” he pleaded, but she was in no mood to hear him anymore.
“Get out” she said through gritted teeth
“Please understand Y/N…” she didn’t give him a chance to finish. She wanted nothing more than to cry and throw things. Ivar knew he needed to do this. He needed to prove that he was a Viking and that he deserved the love of someone like her.
“I SAID. GET. OUT!” He had never heard her so angry, and when he tried to reach out to her she yanked her arm away and walked to the other side of the room. “Please just — just go Ivar” she was hurt and he could see that. He had hurt the one person who had loved him as much as he loved her for someone who abandoned him and there was no turning back.
Before he dragged himself out he muttered his last words to her “I really do love you. I hope you will be at the docks when I return and I truly hope you will come see me off” she didn’t respond, she didn’t even look in his direction, but he could hear her soft sobs. With that, he left.
He looked onto the docks, there was his mother and other people he didn’t care for. He had truly hoped and expected that Y/N would show up to say goodbye, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. Their argument had been two days ago and he hadn’t seen her since. He gave a letter to one of his thralls to give to Y/N. He had stayed up all night thinking about what to write and what to say to make it better. But he knew nothing would change what was going to happen. It was all in the hands of the gods now.
Ivar left and the thrall arrived at Y/N’s door. She gave her the letter and was dismissed back to Aslaug. Y/N’s eyes were red and puffy, she hadn’t stopped crying since Ivar had left. She felt destroyed. When she opened the letter there were only ten words on it.
Her days felt lonely and she tried to keep them busy by visiting Queen Aslaug. She was just as torn as Y/N and together they found comfort in each other. Aslaug hadn’t always been a fan of Y/N because she always suspected that she might be using her son, and she constantly waited for the other foot to drop, but it never did. Then she felt like Y/N was stealing Ivar from his mother, but seeing her all mopey now, she realized they were the same. They both loved Ivar and wanted nothing but his return. What Aslaug didn’t know was that Y/N had already packed her belongings and was simply trying to find the courage to leave.
She knew she told Ivar that she wouldn’t wait for him, but she wanted to. She didn’t want to leave him, she loved him, more than she had ever loved anyone else. She had turned down foreign suitors when they had asked for her hand, and denied the advances of most men if Ivar hadn’t liked them. Of course now she knew why he didn’t like most men, he was jealous. The thought that he couldn’t possibly love her as much as he claimed if he left her so easily always rattled in her mind and she hated it. Of course she understood that he had always felt like he had to prove himself a warrior, a true viking, but she wished that her seeing him that way would have been enough.
Once Aslaug had woken up screaming and crying of Ivar’s death, Y/N knew there was nothing tying her to Kattegat. Aslaug was never wrong, her dreams, her premonitions, always being clear and true. Y/N comforted Aslaug as best as she could and one night while Aslaug was asleep, she had slipped a letter under her pillow explaining that she had to leave and that she was sorry and that she looked forward to seeing Ivar again when it was her time to go and eat with the gods.
She had left most of her belongings in her home, not wanting to carry more than she needed. Her desk covered in crumbled pieces of parchment, all started with varying versions of ‘Dear Ivar,’ but not much else. She could never bring herself to write much after his name because she found herself crying or throwing things. The final letter she wrote had the words ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ crossed out before they too were tossed aside.
She loaded her cart with some dresses that Ivar had the best seamstress in Kattegat make for her, a dagger he had gifted her and enough food and water to last her a week. She let one last tear fall from her eyes as she said goodbye to her childhood home forever.
“A great army. At my command. Imagine it brothers” Ivar had been on one of his rants again. His brothers had, had enough. Sigurd with his mockery began pestering Ivar. And as always Ubbe made an attempt to settle their quarrels while Hvitserk just sat there eating.
Bjorn having had enough just slammed his fist on the table, making all the brothers turn their attention to him, “we won’t succeed in avenging our father if we cannot get Earl Erik to agree to join us” with a frustrated gruff he pushed his plate far away from him.
Ivar rolled his eyes “Brother please, with all the men and women coming to help us, we have more than enough to succeed” biting another piece of meat.
Bjorn chuckled “You are naive brother, if you believe your words. Earl Erik has enough men and women at his disposal that he would nearly double our current army. They say his current wife is a great shieldmaiden who helped him conquer many villages. We want them as an ally, we want their loyalty. He has agreed to hear me out. We will place nice” he looked directly at Ivar and then Sigurd “We will make him feel welcomed and we will not waste his time with your pointless pissing contests. Are we clear?”
Both brothers just gave a grunt of agreement and said nothing else. “I’ve heard she is as beautiful as she is terrifying in battle” Ubbe jumped in.
Hvitserk nodded “They say she seduced her first husband and then murdered him for his army and now she’s slowly conquered Norway with her new husband. She’s giving king Herald a run for his money” he laughed as he continued eating.
“A woman that powerful? I’m sure they greatly exaggerate. She’s probably not even real. I’m sure it’s all stories spread by Earl Erik’s own people.” Ivar grumbled.
“Well whatever the case. We will pose our arguments and try to convince him to help. I expect you all on your best behaviors” as Bjorn finished his sentence a thrall rushed in slightly out of breath.
With very little patience Ivar yelled “Spit it out already!” The poor thrall jumped and took a deep breath before speaking.
“Earl Erik’s boats are on the horizon. He will be here before nightfall” She quickly exited as to not anger the brothers any further.
Bjorn smiled and sent the slaves to prepare for the festivities that would be occurring as soon as Earl Erik arrived. “Let the preparations begin.” He stood up and excused himself to get ready.
“I bet his wife won’t even show up with him” Ivar mockingly laughed. “And if she does I’m sure she is as average as they get.”
“Earl Erik!” Bjorn held his arms out “Welcome to Kattegat. I hope your journey went well”
Earl Erik towered slightly over Bjorn as he walked over. “Prince Bjorn. Long time, no see” They hugged and Erik turned to the rest of Bjorn’s brothers as he was introduced to them. They bowed heads to each other and everything seemed to be flowing nicely as they walked to the great hall together.
Once they were there and everyone had a drink in hand Ivar opened his mouth. “So Earl. Where is this wife we’ve been hearing so much about?” Ubbe gave him a warning look but Ivar didn’t care “Was she too sick to travel perhaps?” Bjorn heard his tone and knew exactly what Ivar was insinuating.
Earl Erik just chuckled and finished his drink. “She traveled with me. But said she did not want to be introduced to Ragnar’s sons right after a long trip. She told me to go ahead and she and our son would catch up later.” He knew what Ivar implied. Erik wasn’t stupid he knew exactly what Ivar meant to imply. It didn’t go past Erik that he was much older than they were and his once pretty looks were overtaken by white hairs in his red beard and scars on his cheeks from years of battle. “I’m sure you all will enjoy her company. Just not too much I hope” he teased his old friend Bjorn with an elbow to his side. Ivar just nodded and continued drinking, saying nothing else.
After several rounds and toasts, the doors opened once again, and there stood two women, one holding a bundled up baby and behind her a woman with her face hidden by a cloak. Erik’s face broke into the biggest smile he had since arriving and the brothers took notice. “That must be your wife” Ivar half chuckled, staring at the lackluster blonde woman in raggedy clothes with spots across her nose, holding the baby. He knew it, a woman, nothing special or grand about her. What Ivar wasn’t expecting was for Erik to walk right past her and lean down to the smaller woman in the cloak. His hands were on either side of her face as he pulled her in for a kiss, making her hood fall. He turned his attention to the crowd “Everyone. Please, meet my lovely wife—“ as her face came into view Ivar whispered her name at the same time that Earl Erik shouted it to the room “Y/N”
A/N - This is a short chapter as the next is long.
Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith
Chapter - 13 of 18
The smell of meat and warm bread awoke Aethelswith's taste buds. Placing down a tray loaded with steaming bowls of thick soup and a plate of pan loaf, Brana quickly set up their meal, before retreating out the tent door, never lingering when Ivar was there.
"Rabbit stew," Aethelswith said, breathing in the aroma. "My favourite."
"I know," Ivar replied.
"How do you know?"
"The thrall told me"
"Which one?"
"I do not know their names, the one that cooks. The one who isn't Brana."
"You do not know their names? How long have they served you?" Aethelswith furrowed her brow.
"Not certain," he said with a shrug.
"Oh."
They ate in silence, the warm bread and richness of the gravy welcome in her tummy after a cup of the wine Ivar had brought back from God knows where. Clearing the empty bowls, Aethelswith refilled their cups; Ivar sticking to mead as the wine was stronger and he liked to keep his senses sharp.
Pulling the tafl board over, he lifted his brow asking her a silent question. Nodding she returned to her stool thinking she would need to nurse this next cup or any cunning against him would be lost.
Watching him set up the board, she noticed that his grey tunic was unlaced at the neck, gaping deeply each time he leaned forward to move a piece. Tanned, smooth skin slid taught over the defined muscle of his broad chest and shoulders. The movement pulling and distorting the dark lines of the ink symbols etched under his skin. She wondered if she ran her fingers over those tattoos, would she feel the lines like a brand or a scar. Never seeing his torso bare, the markings teased her eyes. She wanted to see them in their entirety.
"My lord?"
"I have told you to call me Ivar when we are alone."
"I cannot, God is still here." The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile.
"Good, he can comfort you when you lose."
"My lord?"
"Aethelswith," he crooned back sarcastically.
"Where do you bathe?"
"Why do you want to know?" Tilting forward, he narrowed his eyes, looking cheeky.
"I like to be informed," she chortled softly.
"In another tent." He looked up from the game again. "Would you prefer that I bathe here? In front of you, hmm?"
Rolling her eyes, she took his pawn, sliding her own into its square. They fell back into the rhythm of the game. Her move. His move. She could detect the instant Ivar realized his strategy, his forehead would smooth and his lips would pout as if he held insight into life's greatest queries.
He really was disarming when he was not focussed on triumph, she thought. Enchanting when he genuinely smiled, at night, like they were then; when his severe and formidable exterior could be removed along with the braces on his legs. When his unbearable pain could be soothed by her companionship. Night after night, sharing the intimate space, sharing meals, sharing knowledge of their religions, memories of their childhoods, siblings and the loss of their parents.
"You are staring."
Aethelswith snapped back into her body at his tone.
"Am I?" she breathed. "I am sorry."
"What are you looking at?" Ivar's tone grew serious.
"My apologies."
Pink spread up her neck and into the apples of her cheeks; she cleared her throat twice feeling the effects of both the wine and his scrutiny.
He waited...
"I have just...never...seen... someone like you before," she stuttered. A nightmare! This was a nightmare. Stop talking, she screamed in her head. Stop!
"Someone like me? Like what?" he growled, his jaw clenching. The feeling of foolishness flushed through him; of course, she would see him like everyone else. Why had he behaved so differently with her, like himself, he wondered feeling stupid, his hand tightening around his cup.
"I am unsure of the word to use."
"Crippled?" he sneered.
"Beautiful," she blurted.
Silence. Oh no, she thought. Lord please, pluck me from this stool and deliver me to my death.
More silence.....Ivar looked winded, stunned, his eyes round and face innocent like a boy. He fluttered his long lashes as if someone had just blown a candle out in his face. His eyes were locked on hers which looked equally shocked. The tops of her ears started to burn and panic began to creep its way in. Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips to help draw out her next words. Ivar's gaze dropped down to her mouth. Oh no, she thought as he looked back up, but quickly glanced back down to her mouth.
"I apologize, my Lord. I, I must retire. I am rather fatigued." Rising from the stool, her feet fumbled to move around the wooden base, the hem of her green robe feeling much longer all of a sudden.
Like lightening, Ivar reached across the table and grabbed her wrist, her eyes snapping up to meet his. His face was soft, searching hers, with a flicker of something else in his stare. Is that what desire looks like, she wondered? Or fear? Am I even breathing right now, she asked herself, seeing that her hard, harshly battled Viking looked vulnerable. Not the bitter, heartless man the cruel world bound him to be. There you are, she thought, I see you.
"Ivar," his name slipped from her lips, not realizing she had said it until it was already out floating between them. His eyes widened and his fingers tightened on her wrist. She winced under his strength and he whipped his hand back as if he had touched a hot pot.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice sounding strange.
"No. Please excuse me. I... please excuse me."
Quickly, she moved to her bed, tucking under the furs and drawing them up to her chin. She must look like a trapped animal, she thought, focussing on her breath, not wanting to make more of a spectacle. Closing her eyes, she listened for his movements, her heart pounding in her chest.
Sitting stiff behind the wooden table, his gaze burned into the small mound of furs on the far side of the dim tent.
With a soft thud, she heard him drop to the ground and drag himself to the foot of her bed. Her body froze and her breath hitched, not in fear but in the realization that she had altered the delicate veil between them. Jabbed a stick through the beautiful web of their denial. Had she become, in his eyes, the foolish girl that she obviously was? Is that how he saw her?
Letting out a low huff, he moved onward through the door of the warm tent and out, alone, into the darkness.
Image Credit: Myself...no individual pictures are mine, but editing/collage is.
Pairings: Ivar the Boneless X OFC
Rating: NSFW/18+
Warnings: Verbal/physical abuse, violence, kidnapping, scars, sexual content.
Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, mention of none-consensual touching, slavery, mention of scars, suggested prostitution.
A/N: This ones kinda short and sucky...I apologize in advance.
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The days seemed to pass by almost painfully slow now as Floki and Ivar's brothers traveled to some of the nearby towns in search of answers to Yara's whereabouts. Leaving Ivar behind -- much to his dislike -- in Kattegat with Helga; should Yara or Gunnbjorn happen to turn up in their absence.
It had taken much convincing on Floki's part to convince the ill tempered Ragnarson to stay behind and the more complaints he heard, courtesy of Sigurd, about how pointless all this searching was and how the girl was most likely dead; he felt it had been a wise decision.
At this point in their now three day journey, Floki was wondering why they even brought him along? Aside from the fact that Aslaug had insisted, but his negative attitude towards the searching was wearing on everyone's last nerve.
"Why is it you must complain so much, Sigurd?" Ubbe sighed in frustration as they stopped to water their horses. "If you do not wish to come, go.home."
"All I am saying, Brother, is this is pointless." Sigurd replied, rolling his eyes in annoyance at his older brother. "If she was still in or around Kattegat, we would have found her by now...she's probably dead or already been sold off as a Slave, and Ivar just needs to accept it already. Problem solved, we all get to go home."
"Sigurd, do us all a favor...shut up." Floki stated with a warning look. Forced to bite back on his rising temper when the boy shoved past him, mumbling under his breath.
"What if he is right, Floki?" Hvitserk questioned quietly. Watching as Floki ran a frustrated hand over his face several times.
"She is not dead." Floki stated firmly. "Do not ask how I know...I just...she is alive somewhere. I can feel it."
"We trust you, Floki." Ubbe reached out, clasping the older man’s shoulder tightly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We may have our differences with Ivar, but he is our brother. We will search as long as we have to if it will put his mind at ease."
Floki had started to reply when the conversation was interrupted by a sudden shout from Sigurd, not far from where they stood by the small stream. The three men exchanging a confused glace before heading toward where they heard his voice. Pushing through branches and brush, eventually stumbling upon a small clearing within the woods. Evidence that it had recently been occupied was laid out before them as Sigurd nudged a half burned log with the toe of his boot.
"What do we have ourselves here?" Floki smirked as he knelt down to investigate some of the tracks that had been left imprinted in the earth. "I think we may have finally found what we've been looking for."
"How can you be so sure? Anyone could have camped here." Sigurd shrugged.
"While that is possible," Floki moved carefully along the ground, inspecting foot prints and other markings around the camp. "No one camps this far off the main road unless they do not wish to be found." Pleased with his findings, he stood and held out a small piece of frayed rope, grinning from ear to ear.
"It is also not likely that anyone would keep their guest bound, either."
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"Please, Miss...ye have to eat somethin’." A young red headed girl begged quietly as she held the small plate of food out to Yara. Flinching as she shoved it away again roughly, a scowl fixed to her face. The girl frowned in response. "Please... Master will not be happy if he finds out."
But Yara simply ignored her...she would sooner die than be forced to live the rest of her life like this. The girl gave an exasperated sigh before standing and muttering something in a language that Yara did not recognize before disappearing. A much older woman reappearing in her place not long after.
"Up with ye." She snapped, grabbing hold of Yara's arm roughly as she yanked her to her feet. The amount of strength the old woman possessed was startling to her as she drug her forward into the front room and sat her down a another table. "Damn Danes."
"If ye will not listen to the other girls, than ye best be listenin' to yer Elders; girl. Am I to be understood?" Yara nodded stiffly in response.
The woman stood beside her, one hand planted firmly on her hip and the other pointing to the plate of food before her on the table. Her wrinkled features scowling sternly, making Yara more than a little uncomfortable as she reluctantly took a bite of food. Her stomach grumbling as it hit bottom, greedily demanding more at the first real taste of food she'd had in weeks. The woman patted her head with a smirk, earning a growl as Yara narrowed her fiery green gaze up at the woman.
"Now, that was not so hard, was it?" Yara continued to glare, but shoveled down the rest of the plate regardless. "Ma name in Agnes." She introduced as she busied herself around the room. "I am charged with preparin' ye girls an makin' sure ye understand the rules." Yara watched with curiosity as the woman readied a large tub and some other items before clearing the now empty plate and cup from the table. She point to the tub. Yara frowned.
"Strip." The woman demanded firmly. "Or should I do it for ye?" She cocked an eyebrow, the corners of her lips tugging up into an amused grin as Yara's own frown deepened. Reluctantly undressing herself before climbing into the water and drawing her knees up to her chest tightly. The woman raised a questioning brow as she caught sight of the scars the littered the young girls body, but she didn't question it as she started to wash away the dirt and grime that covered her from head to toe.
"First rule, is ye are required to bathe daily." She stated, dumping a small bowl of water over the dark head of hair, Yara sputtering as the water ran over her face as the older woman quickly began working in an oily substance that smelled of lavender and other herbs before dousing her with water again.
"Here," A finely wrinkled hand appeared in front of her holding a chunk of sheep's milk soap. "Wash yer'self." Yara did so reluctantly as the woman continued to talk. "Second rule -- don't forget yer face -- do as yer told without question. Back talkin’ or speak outta turn, 'specially 'round the Master, will earn ye'll the beatin' of a lifetime...somethin' I'm judgin' ye understand well enough." Yara nodded slightly as she handed the soap back, frowning as more water was dumped over her.
"That's really all ye need know." The woman stated, motioning for Yara to step out of the tub. Drying her off quickly before pulling a thin linen shift over her head and sitting her back down at the table where she began combing through her hair.
"Jus' do what is asked of ye, and ye'll be fine." She patted her shoulder gently. "First times always the hardest." She sighed, gathering up her things and giving Yara a sympathetic, but hopeful, look. "I will be back later tonight to fetch ye."
Yara watched in stunned silence as the woman, left the room swiftly; locking the thick door behind her without another word. Leaving Yara to her own thoughts. She knew what was to happen...she had heard stories her whole life of places like this. Stories of Slavers who not only sold women like livestock, but who also sold their bodies for the profits of pleasure and she was at the top of every mans list.
She fought back the tears of anger that threatened to fall as she closed her eyes tightly; praying to the Gods for this not to be her fate. Praying that they would help her find a way out of this...protect her...keep her safe. Knowing good and well that she would never make it out of this situation alive otherwise.
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Agnes returned later that night as promised, ordering Yara to eat once more before binding her hands in front of her and leading her from the building she'd been kept in for the past few days and toward the outskirts of the little village.
Torches lit the path in front of them and soon they reached a well lit clearing that held a large platform and a number of larger tents that were sure to serve as rooms for the evenings events. The platform was lined with a dozen or more young girls like herself and Yara froze in her tracks at the sight; causing the older woman to stumble slightly before turning to give her a stern look. Her expression quickly softening as she noted the fear in the young girls eyes.
"Dinna fret, Lass." Agnes reassured, gently taking Yara's face between her hands. Stern brown orbs staring into emerald green for a moment before glancing somewhere out into the darkness behind her.
"I dinna believe much in the Gods as I use to, but I pray they're watchin' over ye tonight." She whispered quietly, tugging her arm as they started walking again, leading them up onto the platform with the other girls. Agnes gave her one final reassuring grin before disappearing from sight.
It wasn't too soon after that they were surrounded by strangers; being groped and touch as they went about inspecting each girl until they found one to their liking...Yara felt as though she was going to be sick. Her body trembling violently with cold and fear as her mind raced for a solution or means of escape. Eventually becoming so lost in her own thoughts and attempts to block out the men who were touching her, that she barely noticed the commotion that had broke out at the opposite end of the platform; that is, not until she felt the near bone crushing grip on her upper arm that pulled her from the platform and into the dark.
"Run!"
Yara didn't question it as they ran through the darkness and toward the treeline. Her heart pounding faster as the sounds of chaos erupted behind them in the clearing as they disappeared into the trees; but they didn't stop there.
Her rescuer gripped her arm tighter as they pushed forward, deeper and deeper into the woods until they broke through into a clearing on the opposite side. Stopping just short of a small cliff that overlooked the seas below them. Yara took a step backward, spinning around only to be caught against the chest of whoever had just saved her from an unsavory fate, only to be pushed closer toward the edge in return as shouting broke the silence within the forest behind them. Voices and shouting growing closer by the second.
"Are you insane?!" Yara shouted with a horrified expression as she looked up at the hooded figure, their face well hidden even in the growing moonlight. She dug her heels into the ground as hard as she could, but it was of little use as she was picked up and nearly crushed against the hooded figures chest.
"Do you trust me?" The deep voice asked.
Every logical thought that raced through her mind screamed "NO!" But the words that exited her mouth were of an entirely different nature. Coming out just barely above a whisper as she closed her eyes.
"Yes."
And without another word, they were plummeting toward the frigged waters below.
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Yara has been rescued! YAY! I mean she's currently plummeting off a cliff side into the sea with an unknown hooded figure, but YAY! Any guesses on who our hooded knight in shining armor might be?! Will it be someone she knows, or a total stranger?
Stay turned to find out!
Also, what do you think of Agnes' character? Would she be someone you'd be interested in seeing more of in this story? Let me know!
