Untitled

One shots:

- His Hostage

- Being in His Life

- Celtic Nightmare

- The Blacksmith

Series:

Bodyguard

Mini Series:

Ivar Lothbrok x reader

The Ragnarsons and the remaining of the Great Heathen Army had taken residence behind the walls of York.

You were sent to find Ivar for Ubbe and Hvitserk, there was something urgent they needed to discuss. You walked through the stone halls of the raided nobleman’s home. Ivar had been staying in the last room at the end of the hall.

As you approached the room you saw two young women, new thralls, giggling while peeking through a crack in the door.

“Hey! Get out of here! Shoo,” you waved them off with a smile as they smirked at you and continued to giggle.

You peered through the crack of the door to see what the women were giggling about. As you looked through you saw a naked woman sitting on Ivar’s lap and caressing his chest. You rolled your eyes as you saw Ivar practically drooling over her. Then you recognized her by her bright blonde hair and innocent face, Freydis.

You had met Freydis a few times. She had just recently became a thrall and had been brought to England by one of King Harald’s men. The first time you came across her she was walking around the last feast, flirting with the most powerful men in the army, she had even tried to go after Bjorn before his voyage to the Mediterranean.

When you saw this you only shrugged. It was the norm for women in her position to go after men in leadership positions. It was the only way they could survive this life.

But when you saw her in Ivar’s lap, having him under her spell, your face became hot and red.

Freydis: “I would do anything for you, Ivar. You’re a god.”

That’s it! You flung the door open. It hit the wall so loudly it startled Freydis enough that she fell out of Ivar’s lap. As Ivar reached down for her you gripped her arm, pulled her up off the ground and shoved her dress into her arms.

You: “you’re done here.”

You walked her out the door as she looked back at Ivar and pouted.

You: “you’ll find someone else to live off of, don’t worry,” you whispered into her ear before pushing her out and slamming the door.

When you turned around you saw Ivar leaning on his arm rest, head in his hand, “what was all that about?”

You composed yourself, “Ubbe and Hvitserk need to speak with you.”

Ivar: “so you pulled a naked woman off my lap?”

You: “I pulled seductress off your lap.”

Ivar giggled, “a seductress? Is that what she was?”

You: “I heard her call you a god. She already used that same line with King Harald and your brother, Bjorn.”

Ivar face fell, “I see. So any man that had any authority.”

You nodded. You walked over to Ivar and handed him his crutch. Ivar grabbed it from you and smiled, “tgat wouldn’t explain your urgency to remove her. You could’ve let me have my fun and tell me afterwards.”

You; “I know you, Ivar. You would’ve fallen for her after one encounter.”

Ivar tsked as he rose, “and you couldn’t have that. Could you? Because you want me.”

You froze, “excuse me?” You turned to look up at him.

“You haven’t been by my side for so long because you’re keeping a promise to my deceased mother,” Ivar grazed your cheek with his thumb. “You’re staying by me so you can claim me for yourself and you saw another woman trying to do it before you.”

Summary: Your mother was a trusted shieldmaiden of Queen Aslaug’s, so trusted that she was put in charge of training Ivar when he was young. You were his sparring partner. When you’re older you serve as a shieldmaiden to Queen Aslaug as well. After her death you keep the promise to her you made years before, that you’ll always be there for Ivar, for protection and more.

Pt 1

Pt 2

Pt 3

Pt 4

Pt 5

Summary: You were once a thrall that served the Lothbrok family. You were sold to Ragnar in England, as a young child who was stolen from her home in Ireland. In your teens you gained your freedom. When an adult Ivar comes looking for you for the special job of protecting his wife Freydis. He must run Kattegat as king, protect his wife from upset and untrustworthy citizens, and you must help him, as you have gained the title of warrior. But the Ivar who has requested your help is not the Ivar you once knew, you decide to get that Ivar back.

Pt 1

Ivar Lothbrok x reader

It’s been a few weeks since the execution of King Aelle. The Ragnarsons had recovered the lands in Wessex that were promised to their father by King Ecbert years prior. King Ecbert died in his Roman bath after signing the lands away.

The entire army feasted to celebrate avenging their King Ragnar. Bjorn Ironside stood and announced he would take half the army to sail to the Mediterranean with. This caused anger to boil within Ivar, he wanted to continue to lead the Great Army to raid throughout England.

Sigurd scoffed, “Ivar, you cannot lead you are but a cripple. No one will follow you.”

Sigurd and Ivar continued to throw insults at one another until it escalated to Ivar throwing an axe into his brother’s chest.

Before Sigurd’s funeral, Ivar had already apologized to his brothers and admitted regret to killing Sigurd. He sat over Sigurd’s still body draped in furs, surrounded by trinkets and weapons. Ivar’s face was blank at he stared ahead at nothing.

After the funeral you found Ivar by a cliff, sitting on a large boulder, wrapped in a thin cloak. The wind blew strong as Ivar pulled the fabric around himself tighter. You approached him from behind, covering him with a fur blanket.

Ivar: “Please, leave me be.”

You stayed silent and sat down next to him on the boulder.

Ivar: “Why are you here? Why are you staying with me?”

You: “Because I’m afraid.”

Ivar’s eyes widened slightly then he scoffed, “you? Afraid? Of what exactly?”

You: “of you hurting yourself, or disappearing.”

He turned his head towards you, “what?”

You: “I know you’re full of sorrow. And people full of sorrow do dangerous things.”

Ivar: “I am not planning on doing anything. I promise.”

You smiled and nodded, “good, because you are my only friend. I’d rather not lose you at the moment.”

Ivar’s eyes began to well up with tears, “how can you say such a thing after what I’ve done?”

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “yes, what you did was terrible, unforgivable. But it was in a moment of anger, and I’ve learned to understand your anger.”

Ivar leaned into you as he cried, “why did he have to say such things to me, about me. He was my brother and I loved him.” He sniffled, “when we were still children I loved him, looked up to him.”

You: “he spoke so horribly of you because he was angry.”

Ivar: “about what? I’m the cripple everyone looks down on! That everybody is disgusted by!”

You: “everyone accept for your mother. You were the only one out of the four of you that had a mother.”

Ivar’s crying stopped and he looked into your eyes, “I took her away from them.”

You shook your head, “you did not take anything. She chose to give all herself to you, to only care for you. She didn’t have to.”

Ivar nodded in understanding, “he wasn’t angry at me but with mother. I was just an easier target.”

You held Ivar tighter, “I’m sorry you two never had the chance to reconcile, to understand each other.”

In a tiny voice Ivar said, “thank you.”

You two sat on the cliff for a while longer and shared memories of Sigurd. You continued to hold Ivar and held him tighter each time he cried.

Ivar Lothbrok x reader

The Great Heathen Army charged at the North Umbrian soldiers, after this battle the Ragnarsons planned on taking the life of King Aelle. The battle did not last long, the Vikings attacked in the evening, taking North Umbria by surprise and without warning.

You walked back to camp unharmed and soaked in Saxon blood. You sat next to Ivar who had spread the blood of King Aelle on his face after he was blood eagled.

You: “you look as though you had fun.”

Ivar: “I did. Revenge for my father is only half way done though. Ecbert is next.”

You nodded in agreement. “He will pay, do not worry.”

Ivar: “I am far from worried.”

Ivar finally turned his head towards you from staring at the fire. His eyes widen, “you a drenched! How many men did you kill?” He wiped blood off your forehead with his middle finger.

You: “plenty. Enough.”

Ivar: “wild woman. We’ve always shared a similar blood lust, haven’t we?”

You: “I suppose.”

Ivar smiled and nudged your shoulder with his. “What’s wrong? You’re quiet.”

You: “I am always quiet. You know this.”

Ivar: “I guess you are. Even on the battlefield you make no noise. You’re swift and silent when you tear through men.”

You watched him as he continued to speak.

Ivar: “most Vikings are loud and brutish. They use their anger to fuel them. But you’re calm through it all.”

You: “Sometimes anger can be blinding. I’d rather not blackout from it when fighting for my life and kingdom.”

Ivar smirked, “I suppose that’s fair. I wish I could do that.”

You raised an eyebrow at this statement, “you are calculating. You’re clever enough to predict your enemies thoughts. You have enough talent of your own.”

His smile grew wider, “you always know what to say, even if you don’t say much.”

You: “I am very wise, I know.”

Ivar chuckles. “We both need to wash up before sleep. No need to get into bed covered in this much blood.”

You nodded and stood. Ivar called over thralls to get a tub for him as you walked towards the creek to bathe yourself.

Ivar Lothbrok x reader

Lagartha had taken over Kattegat, she was Queen, and Aslaug was dead. Your services were no longer needed to protect the Ragnarsons, but you still went to see them at Ragnar’s old cabin outside of the city.

Surprisingly, the brothers took comfort in your presence, including Ivar. As they mourned the combined loss of their parents, you’d help them with simple chores and made them meals.

Ivar would take his anger out on trees in the nearby woods. You had come to check on him. Ivar flinched when you showed up at his side.

Ivar: “my gods, you’re sneaky.”

You sat down next to him on the plush grass. “I prefer being described as stealthy.”

Ivar cracked a smirk, “my apologies.”

You grabbed your sword and handed Ivar his.

Ivar: “what are you planning?”

You: “Taking your anger out on a poor defenseless tree won’t help you. Spar me, like old times.”

Ivar: “I do not know if that’s a good idea.”

You: “Come on, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You two started with easy sparing, light taps of the swords. Over the next few minutes Ivar’s strikes became more intense, but they were erratic. You blocked each blow.

Ivar grew frustrated with you. He would strike faster and harder, yet he still couldn’t hit you, couldn’t even graze your skin with his blade.

You: “do you now see why your mother trusted me to protect you?”

Ivar: “I do not need your protection!”

You: “maybe not physically.”

You finally struck back. Ivar landed on his back, you stood over him.

You: “but I’m here to stay, to protect all of you. I will honor your mother’s, my queen’s, wish.”

Ivar Lothbrok x reader

You walked behind the Ragnarsons as they strolled through the merchant stalls.

Hvitserk: “Ubbe, tell me again why we’re being followed by mother’s shieldmaiden.”

Sigurd: “We’re not. Ivar is.”

Ivar growled in response to Sigurd. “It is not my fault mother thinks I cannot protect myself.”

Sigurd: “no, but she is right. You’re just a babe, and crawl around like one too.”

Ivar stopped in his tracks, breathing in deeply as his brothers continued on. You stayed behind him.

Ivar: “why must you follow me? You make me look weak!”

You: “I’m just following orders, my prince.”

Ivar hit his fist into the ground, “well, I order you to stop. To leave me alone!”

You: “I cannot do that, my prince.”

Ivar: “I am not weak.”

You: “I know.”

There was a commotion in the town square. You stayed behind the brothers as they were greeted by their father that they hadn’t seen in years.

As King Ragnar settled down into his throne, his youngest son sat in his mother’s.

Ivar: “Hello, father. I have a request to ask you.”

Ragnar: “what is it?”

Ivar: “Mother has ordered a shieldmaiden to follow me around wherever I go. She does not listen to any of my orders. I want you to get her to leave me alone.”

Ragnar chuckled, “how long has this been going on for?”

Ivar: “weeks. And she is everywhere.”

Ragnar: “alright, I’ll order her to stop following you. Especially since we don’t need her when we go to England.”

You accepted your new orders gracefully. You would return back to your regular duties, for now.

Ivar Lothbrok x reader

Queen Aslaug had always wanted Ivar to learn the ways of their people, that’s why she had asked Floki to teach him about the gods when he was a child. But as Ivar grew, so did his ambition. He learned that being a Viking meant glory, power, and the only way to get to Valhalla. Wanting to be a Viking meant that Ivar had to learn to fight, which Aslaug feared. So she looked to your mother, her most trusted shieldmaiden, and asked her to teach Ivar to fight and to be gentle with him. Your mother agreed. She was already training you to become a shieldmaiden, so why not have the youngest prince be your spar partner?

You were a shy child, so when you trained with Ivar you barely ever spoke to him. You would give him and Queen Aslaug a polite smile and nod as a greeting then wait for your mother’s instructions. Due to this, Ivar thought you were odd, or that you didn’t enjoy being associated with him, most of the other children in Kattegat didn’t.

When you two spared you had little empathy for the prince. You believed if he was going to fight when he was grown he should learn that those fights won’t be easy due to his fragile bones and legs.

Ivar would start out sitting on a stump of a cut down tree, you would knock him off with the first swing of your wooden sword. He would wail, you’d pick him up by his tunic and place him back on the stump, then you’d gesture for Ivar to shrike you back.

Ivar, being the fast learner his is, could eventually bloke your blows while keeping himself upright. He could catch you off guard and use his upper body strength to land a hard hit on you. The first time you smiled at Ivar was the first time he knocked you down.

Once he got better, Ivar started training with his brothers, no longer needing your mother’s or your help.

Years later, you appeared in Ivar’s life again as one of his mother’s shieldmaidens.

Ivar the Boneless x reader

Summary: You help Ivar strengthen his heart and gain back the favor of the people of Kattegat.

Warnings: starvation, malnourishment

Word count: 3.6k

“She’s lying!” Freydis yelled at the top of her lungs. She was being held back by two guards as thralls packed up her belongings in what was once her and Ivar’s shared chambers.

“Your servant already confessed to the betrayal, Freydis. You will be guarded day and night in a home on the outskirts of Kattegat until you become round with the child,” Ivar circled her. “That way I will know what I was told was true.”

Freydis broke down. She fell to knees, tears streamed down her face, “please, my love. I did it for you.”

Ivar stomped his crutch into the ground as he approached her, “so you admit it. You took another man.”

She nodded her head quickly, “yes, yes I did. I wanted to give you an heir.”

He grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look him in the eyes, “and why would you need another man for that?”

“Because–” more tears flowed from her eyes. Freydis tried to yank her jaw out of Ivar’s grasp, but his grip tightened.

“Because?” Ivar growled. “Say it.”

“Because you’re a cripple, not a god,” Freydis sobbed.

Ivar released her, “get her out of my sight.”

The guards dragged a screaming Freydis out of the hall. Now that she had confessed to her betrayal Ivar changed his plans on what to do with her. He had a chest packed for her, leaving out her fine dresses and jewelry, only containing her old dresses and furs. Two of his men escorted her to her old village, her original home before she was a thrall, she would find family or friends there to rely on. And she would never step foot in Kattegat again.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night Ivar sat alone in the hall downing horns of mead. He had already yelled at and kicked out Hvitserk, he was desperate to drown his sorrow. There was loud pounding on the door. Ivar let out a long groan, “what?”

You entered the longhouse with small steps, as if walking on egg shells. “Ivar, my king, why do you do this to yourself?”

Ivar pounded his fist on the table, “why? Why?”

You moved closer to him, keeping your face calm.

“I’m doing this because the only woman I have ever loved betrayed me!” His voice rose to what would be thought by most to be an unsafe level. “The most beautiful woman was once mine and now she’s not.”

You kneeled before him and took his hand in yours. Ivar flinched at the contact but he didn’t resist. “Ask yourself,” you started, “why did she truly want to give you an heir?”

“She must’ve wanted to be a mother and didn’t believe I could provide her with that service,” Ivar answered solemnly.

You shook your head, “no, no. She wanted to secure her position even more as queen.”

Ivar raised an eyebrow, “so it was for me?”

You sighed, “no, definitely not. It was for her. As freed thrall I know how she thinks. She took a path that would give her power, a path that would give her protection.” You squeezed Ivar’s hand, “no one would provide her more protection than the fierce Ivar the Boneless, especially when he became King of Kattgat.”

Ivar sniffed, “she used me for my status? And the more connected she was to me the safer she was?”

You nodded in affirmation, “many people do this. You’re not the only one to go through this, Ivar.”

Ivar pulled his hand away from yours, “I may not be, but she was my only chance at love.” He poured himself another horn of mead and chugged it.

You stood and grabbed the pitcher of mead off the table, “that’s it. You’re done.” You moved the pitcher out of his reach. You went to grab his arm, “let’s get you to bed.”

Ivar pulled his arm away from you, “why are you still here? You were hired to protect Freydis. She’s gone now. You are no longer needed.”

You let out a small chuckle and pull him out of the chair to his feet, “trust me Ivar, I am still needed here.” You placed his crutch under his arm and used your body to support him from the other side.

Ivar groaned but allowed you to lead him to his chambers. You plopped him down on top of the furs of his bed and rolled him onto his back. “You annoy me,” Ivar mumbled as you started to undo his leg braces. “You’re just going to expose me and leave me here?” He asked as you then went to remove his top armor.

“No, I’ll stay. I know you’re still paranoid,” you started putting his armor away before Ivar threw a pillow at your head. You spun back towards him, “what was that for?”

“I am not paranoid. My own people are against me, my brothers and Lagretha are still outside those walls planning an attack,” You put the pillow back behind his head as Ivar flailed his arms while talking.

You pulled a heavy fur over him, “I know. But you must clear your head before moving any further.”

Ivar snuggled into the furs, “I must clear my head,” he muttered before sleep overcame him.

You sat down in a chair outside of his chambers, staying there until Ivar woke the next morning.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day you arrived back in Kattegat Hvitserk had pulled aside in the great hall. He led you to a darkened corner, away from all the warriors feasting, out of Ivar’s and Freydis’ eyesight. You stumbled from the force he used to guide you, “woah, Hvitserk, what’s wrong?”

“Be careful while you’re here,” Hvitserk’s widened eyes bore into yours.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, “what do you mean by that?”

“Ivar is powerful now, but he’s not as logical as he once was,” Hvitserk kept his voice hush, his mouth close to your ear. “He’s changed since you’ve been gone. Since our brothers betrayed us.”

“Tell me how he is now then,” you urged Hvitserk to continue.

“He’s raised the taxes on the people to the point they may not survive the winter, all so he can build walls around Kattegat. There may be a revolt soon,” Hvitserk kept his head on a swivel as he spoke. “He has executed people for low level crimes, or simply speaking out against him. You as his bodyguard must be careful.”

“I will do one better,” you pat Hvitserk on the shoulder, “I will get the old Ivar back.”

And that’s exactly what you were going to do. You were going to bring the Ivar you knew back. The intelligent, fearless man that wanted to be a great king for his people. Hvitserk thought you were being irrational but he still met with you the day after Freydis left Kattegat.

You and Hvitserk walked through the market, “how is it that you’ve got rid of Freydis already?” Hvitserk stopped to look at silver jewelry for Thora.

“I did nothing but follow my orders from Ivar. I told him what happened and he decided what to do with her,” you followed Hvitserk closely, you were assigned to him today.

“And he just believed you?” Hvitserk quirked an eyebrow at you.

You nodded, “of course he did.”

Hvitserk smirked and let out a soft laugh, “maybe you being here will help him.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked beside Ivar as he checked the fortifications around Kattegat. Men continued to build the tall towers and walls, lowering their heads when Ivar passed them. You were astonished by the structure but you knew it was excessive. “This is a lot of lumber, my king,” you stared up at the tower.

“It is needed. Kattegat is exposed, almost defenseless at the moment. But with these walls, the city will be impenetrable,” He gripped your shoulder. “My brothers will not take this from me, no one will.”

You took his hand off your shoulder and held in yours, “my king, the taxes, they’re too much for the villagers and the merchants. If they aren’t lowered there won’t be a Kattegat to protect.”

He squeezed your hand, “I know, but this has to be done. When it is done the people will flourish.” He released your hand and continued to examine the work being done.

Clearly my words won’t work. I have to show him what’s actually happening. You had to keep your word to Hvitserk, you were going to see if Ivar had any empathy for his people, see how far gone he really was.

On a quiet day, one where Ivar had little duties to fulfill, you led Ivar through the woods blindfolded. He held onto your shoulder as you walked slowly in front of him, “I cannot believe I’m letting you do this.” You could hear the slight giggle in his voice, “what surprise am I in for this afternoon, Y/n?”

You stopped at the edge of the woods, where there was a lone farmhouse of a family that you were informed had been struggling since the beginning of the wall being built. You moved behind Ivar and started to untie his blindfold, “a surprise that you won’t like, and that I may be punished for showing you.”

You removed the blindfold from Ivar’s eyes. He stood still, watching a small child with hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes do chores on his family farm. The young boy moved slowly across the land, dragging bales of hay behind him, bales of hay that would’ve been easy for a boy of his height and age to throw over his shoulder.

Ivar’s face dropped, “why did you bring me here?”

You stepped out of the shrubbery, “you know why.” You took Ivar’s hand and helped him over the shrubs. “You, as king, need to see what your people are going through.”

“Y/n,” Ivar let out a deep sigh, “I am aware. I’ve told you that. But my people will be in more danger if the walls are not finished soon.”

You both followed the boy from a distance without him noticing. “You don’t know the severity, Ivar,” you whispered harshly. “You’ve been told things, but you haven’t seen. That’s the only way you’ll truly understand.”

You two stopped when the boy reached his family’s barn. He dragged the bale of hay through the gate and put it in the trough for the singular, skinny goat that occupied the yard.

“Where are the rest of their animals?” Ivar asked.

“Sold or eaten. Probably keeping this goat alive for now for milk. Until of course she is unable to produce anymore due to her own lack of food,” you put bluntly.

“I do not understand. I haven’t been starving, neither have my men nor my thralls,” Ivar looks at you genuinely confused.

You scrunched up your eyebrows, “you are a king, Ivar! You’re able to afford what these people cannot. You could easily feed all of Kattegat if you lived exactly like everyone else.”

Ivar clenched his jaw, “I’ve worked my entire life to get to where I am. I am not lowering myself.”

“You don’t have to. But you have to stop taking from your people, because they’ve also worked their entire lives. For themselves. For their families,” during your conversation the boy had gone back inside the farmhouse. You grabbed Ivar’s arm and pulled him to the window to peep into the home, “and your high taxes are ruining what they’ve built.”

Ivar looked through the window of the farmhouse. He saw three younger children laying on small furs on the floor, huddled together, they all looked to be skin and bones. A tired mother hunched over them, wearing ripped rags, as she tried to get one of the children to drink water from a ladle. Ivar looked around the room, it lacked furniture and any personal materials, it was seemingly empty.

“They’ve sold everything,” Ivar said as he backed away from the window.

“Not everything,” you patted his back. “They haven’t sold their children like some others. They probably wouldn’t be worth anything now.”

Ivar shoved you in the chest, “how could you say such a thing?”

“Oh, look who has a heart now!” You feigned a smile.

Ivar smoothed out his eyebrows, “I need to go home to think. Things may change tomorrow.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning Ivar sent his men out to send word to his people to gather in the great hall that evening. When the evening came the hall was crowded with farmers, merchants, fisherman, and warriors. Ivar sat on his throne, the throne to the left of him, where his queen once sat, empty.

Ivar scanned over the crowd. He saw how colorless the faces of his people were, he heard their frightened whispers. “He’s going to raise the taxes again, isn’t he?” A young woman whispered into the ear of her friend. “We’ll surely not survive the winter if he stays king,” an old farmer said to his son. “Either he goes or we go,” the words echoed in Ivar’s head.

You put your warm hand on Ivar’s shoulder as you crouched beside him. Your touch pulled him out of his thoughts, he turned to look down at you. You smiled up at him warmly, “you’re finally hearing them. You’re making the right choice, my king.”

Ivar nodded. He pulled himself up to stand using his crutch and cleared his throat, “people of Kattegat, I know these past few months have been rough.” The crowd faced their king. Ivar stood tall and unwavering, but as you stood behind him you could tell he was nervous by the sweat on the back of his neck. “And I have been made aware by a close friend of mine that you have all been suffering due to my negligence as king. And for that I deeply apologize, for I do not want to lose my kingdom nor my people,” Ivar started to pace. “Now for the news. I am temporarily ending the taxation until you are all back on your feet.” The great hall erupted in cheers and applause. Ivar raised his hand to lower their volume, “but once winter ends the taxing will continue until the wall is finished, although it will be much lower than it has been.”

The crowd murmured in agreement with their king’s new arrangement. One of the villagers in the far back started the chant, “hail, Ivar.” You glanced over at Ivar, you saw the smile on his face reach his eyes and your heart warmed.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within the next few days you and many of Ivar’s men were sent out to distribute grain to the villagers of Kattegat. You still felt uneasy about leaving Ivar’s side as his personal bodyguard, but Ivar insisted that he would be safe now that he had won back the favor of the people. Everyone seemed grateful for King Ivar’s kindness and change of heart. There were some villagers that made snarky remarks when you delivered the grain, such as “he should’ve done this sooner,” or “a real king never would’ve let his people suffer in the first place.” You made a mental note of these people, just in case a threat were to arise. But you noticed they were mainly elderly laborers and farmers with no real fire behind their eyes.

You were supposed to go back to the cabin you were living in at the end of your day, but you had a nagging feeling to check up on Ivar in the great hall one last time before turning in. In the middle of the night you entered the hall, softly closing the door behind you as to wake anyone. Besides your own breathing the only thing you could hear was soft sobs coming from the back room.

You pulled back the leather curtains, “my king? Is everything alright?” You whispered into the darkness.

You flinched as you heard a loud thud near your head. Ivar lit the candles by his bedside, “oh it’s you.” You looked to the side, there was a dagger lodged into the wall next to the threshold you had come through. Ivar wiped his face and sniffled, “why are you here? What do you want?”

You took the dagger out of the wall, “I was just coming to check on you before I went home. It didn’t feel right not to.”

“Well, as you can clearly see, I am fine. You can go now,” Ivar turned his back to you, laying back down.

You sighed. You walked around the bed and pulled a chair up to sit beside Ivar. He huffed dramatically, “why don’t you leave?”

“Because I enjoy annoying you, obviously,” you smiled down at him. Ivar gave you a soft smirk.

“What if she was right?” Ivar’s eyes bore into yours.

You tilted your head in confusion, “who?”

“Freydis,” he pushed himself to sit up, the fur blanket pooling to his waist, exposing his bare, tattooed chest. “What if she was right when she said I’m just a cripple?”

You slowly raised your hand to Ivar’s face, he leaned towards you, and you flicked him square in the forehead. Ivar rubbed his forehead and scrunched his eyebrows. “Freydis was crazy! And she made you crazy! Everything and anything she has ever said should not matter to you.”

Tears began to run down Ivar’s face, “I cannot do this alone, Y/n.”

You held his head in your hands, “you are not alone, Ivar. I am here, so is Hvitserk. So what if you lost a crazy woman? There is always more.”

Ivar sniffled, “but everyone loved her. How do I keep my people’s favor without her or another queen?”

You removed your hands from his face, “you do not need a queen to rule. You will learn, just like your father did, that you cannot make everyone happy. You will make mistakes, you already have. But this comes with your position as king.”

Ivar nodded. You wiped the tears away from his eyes, “I believe it is time you actually sleep now.”

Ivar held your hand to his lips, then kissed your palm, “you’re too good to me. You always rid me of my worries.”

You smiled softly at him, “I am happy to serve, my king.”

Ivar moved his hand to your waist, and pulled your chair closer to his bed, “I haven’t been able to sleep soundly without the warmth of another beside me.”

“Ivar…” you whispered.

“Please, y/n. Just for the night, stay clothed if you want, but stay with me. You are my closest friend and the only person I have ever fully trusted with anything,” his hand on your waist tightened.

Your heart couldn’t handle this, his begging. Not again. There was a reason you were freed by Queen Aslaug when you were younger, she believed she was protecting her youngest son from heartbreak.

When you worked for the Lothbrok family, a young Ivar would come to visit you at the stable or tending to the crops everyday, escalating from his weekly visits after you helped him after the goat had attacked him. As time went on he convinced his mother to allow you to be his personal thrall, his reasoning being he needed your strength for things like dressing him and bathing him. Aslaug agreed.

You were the first woman his age that he was comfortable with, in many ways. He joked with you while you bathed him. He’d sit with you while you did your chores and you’d have conversations about how irritating his brothers were. Eventually he started to open up to his mother about his desire for you.

“I want to marry her, mother. For that to happen I need you to free her,” Ivar stared intently into Queen Alaug’s eyes as she sat on her throne and he sat on the stairs.

“Ivar, you are far too young for marriage,” Aslaug shook her head.

“I know many that have married at a much younger age than I. Why don’t you want me to be happy, mother?” Ivar slammed his fist into the floor.

“She is a thrall, and you are a prince. You are meant to marry above her,” Alsaug leaned down, towards her son. “She is not worthy of you.”

Ivar threw his arms up, “I do not care what she is! All I know is that she is meant for me!”

“Once she is freed she will no longer be nice to you! She will leave for a man with working legs!” Aslaug slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just said.

Ivar’s face went blank. He turned away from his mother and dragged himself out of the room.

But Asluag was right. Once you were freed you immediately went to leave Kattegat, Queen Aslaug even provided you with a horse. But before you could mount the horse, Ivar caught your leg with his large hand. “Y/n, why? Why are you leaving me?” His eyes began to well with tears.

You crouched down on the ground, holding his face in your hands. You leaned to whisper in his ear, “she told me to. Come find me when you can, I won’t be far.” You kissed his cheek then mounted the horse and rode off.

You nodded after Ivar asked you to share his bed with him, “alright. Just for tonight.” You stood, removing everything but your linen tunic. You crawled over Ivar to the other side of the bed, he covered you with the fur blanket.

Ivar the boneless X Freydis soon to be Ivar the boneless X reader

Summary: Ivar is newly King of Kattegat and is wary about his Queen’s safety. The reader is hired to be her personal bodyguard

Warnings: Injury, Freydis with male servant scene from Vikings

Word count: 2.8k

Ivar had become King of Kattegat, his life long dream, he finally achieved his birth right. And on top of that he had a beautiful wife that made him feel like a god, Freydis. But he was becoming paranoid. Paranoid that his people were going to turn against him, that his brothers would somehow get behind the walls he built around Kattegat, that his bodyguards would betray him.

Ivar needed someone loyal and strong. He didn’t think he could find someone like that in Kattegat. Then he remembered you. A thrall his family owned when he was a child. You were a young girl Ragnar had been sold in Ireland, advertised to be a hard worker with above average strength for your age. The Lothbroks put you to work with the farm animals and you became a spectacle for the young Ragnarssons. Even though you were small in stature you were the only young thrall that could toss a hay bale over her shoulder or pick up a full grown goat.

Throughout the years you grew, not much taller, but definitely stronger. The Ragnarssons stopped staring at you in so much fascination, except for Ivar. While his brothers lusted over delicate women in the village, he watched you tend to the animals. You and him shared a few conversations, nothing deep, just friendly words. One of these days a goat became temperamental near Ivar, and he didn’t move fast enough. The goat headbutted him, you grabbed the goat by its horns and dragged it away, locking it in its stable. You then carried a dizzy Ivar into the hall, and Aslaug ran to her son’s side.

Ivar scratched his chin and continued his thoughts to his wife, “she did treat me well and was incredibly solid. I heard once she was freed by my mother she became a great shield maiden in a village to the north.”

Freydis sighed, “I suppose she may be a good choice if you can find her. But why does your new bodyguard have to be a woman?”

Ivar grinned at his wife, then stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, “you need not worry, my Freydis. She will be your bodyguard mainly, I want you safe and I trust an old friend like her more than Lagertha’s old shieldmaidens.”

Freydis smiled and nodded, “alright. Then go find her.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivar arrived a few villages north of Kattegat midafternoon the next day. He climbed down from his chariot as a few of the local Jarls’ warriors approached. “King Ivar the Boneless?” One questioned.

“That would be me,” Ivar gave a quick nod. “I have a request for your Jarl. Take me to him.”

The warriors did as he commanded and led Ivar to the hall of the village. Ivar entered the hall behind the warriors, the smell of mead and smoked meat hit him. He approached the throne where Jarl Frode sat. He was a stoic but kind man, Ivar had come to learn in his past interactions with him, so he was not worried about bargaining.

Jarl Frode stepped down to greet Ivar. The older man grabbed his forearm and pulled Ivar into a slight hug, “King Ivar, great to see you. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Ivar smiled widely once he pulled away, “an old friend of mine fights for you. I was wondering if I could take her back to be my wife’s bodyguard. I do not quite trust everyone around us.”

“Such a good husband you are. Who do you need, my friend?” Jarl Ford started to lead Ivar towards the training grounds.

“She is named Y/N,” Ivar answered. “She was once my family’s thrall, when she was a child.”

“Ah,” the Jarl thought to himself for a while. “In that case are you sure she’ll want to go back with you?”

Ivar shrugged, “I’m not sure. But she’ll still be free back in Kattegat.”

Once they reached the training yard Ivar was met with the sight of you in a defensive position, shield and axe in hand, surrounded by several men circling you. Jarl Frode guided Ivar to the side to watch the sparring unfold. “Will she be alright?” Ivar asked as the men closed in on you.

“She’ll be fine. She’s dealt with bandits twice her size on the backs of horses,” Jarl Frode patted Ivar’s shoulder.

One man lunged at you, breaking the circle. You dodged the attack and broke free from their entrapment. The sparring continued with Ivar once again watching you in fascination, it ended with you standing over several groaning men.

Jarl Frode clapped, “well done, Y/N. Now come here, someone wants to see you.”

You approached the men, and your eyes caught Ivar’s as he leaned against a wooden fence for stability. “Ivar?” You tilted your head as you looked up at him, “you can stand now?”

“And walk,” he gave you a sly smile. “But I have not come here to show off. I have something of great favor to ask of you.”

You wiped dirt from your face, “alright, what is it?”

“You’re a gifted warrior, and someone that I have trusted before. I need you to be the bodyguard to my wife, Queen Freydis,” Ivar explained.

“You’re married?” Your eyes had widened in surprise.

Ivar clenched his jaw and scoffed, “yes I’m married. Does it surprise you that a cripple like me could find a wife?”

You rolled your eyes. You’ve had this discussion time and time again with him growing up. He had always been insecure about his disability and whenever you’d say anything he’d twist your words to make it sound like you thought of him like how everyone else did, that he was just a man to be pitied or disgusted by. But in truth you never pitied him and were most definitely never disgusted, you had been raised by a different culture than Ivar, one that cared for those that were born different rather than shunning them. You sighed, “I meant because I never expected you to settle down so young. You’ve always been so ambitious and always told me women were a distraction.”

Ivar’s face calmed and he let out what sounded like a small laugh, “I guess I did say that, didn’t I. But I said that before I met my Freydis. She’s different.”

You nodded, “I hope she is. I will guard her if it means so much to you.”

He grinned at you, “you always did love to please me.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the next day you and Ivar rode back into Kattegat, your horse pulled a cart full of your belongings behind it. Ivar led you on his chariot to a small empty cabin outside of town, “this is your new home for now. Unpack. I expect you at the hall by nightfall to meet Queen Freydis.”

You dismounted your horse, “yes, my king.”

By nightfall Ivar had his arms around Freydris as they waited for you to arrive. “So she is willing to serve me?” Freydis asked as she leaned her head on Ivar’s shoulder.

“She is willing to protect you, yes,” Ivar corrected. “But she is not a thrall.”

Freydis nodded, “you must like you if she was so willing to leave her life behind in that other village.”

“We were friends growing up. The most a thrall and a young prince could be, but that does not mean you have anything to worry about, my beautiful Freydis,” he brought his lips to hers.

The doors to the hall creaked open, Freydis and Ivar separated from each other, you approached where they sat on the twin thrones. You knelt before them, “King Ivar, Queen Freydis, I am here for duty.”

Freydis started to nod in respect and was going to greet you back but before she could Ivar chuckled, “get up. Stop being ridiculous, Y/N.”

You stood with a wide grin, “my apologies, my king.”

Freydis leaned over to Ivar and whispered, “I don’t understand. You have made everyone deeply bow and kneel to you since you became king.”

Ivar looked at Freydis confused, “why would I do that? That would be ridiculous. Y/N and I used to make fun of leaders that would use their power to do such a thing.”

Freydis settled back in her throne. Her thoughts started to spiral. How could my Ivar forget how he holds his power. This woman has been here for less than a day and is already undoing my hard work with Ivar just with her presence. I’ve made him the king he is today, I will not have it.

“My Queen, it will be an honor guarding you. I will lay down my life to ensure your safety,” you slightly bowed before her.

Freydis smiled faintly at you, “I believe you would.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a week you spent your days following Freydis around Kattegat. If she went to the market you were at most ten feet behind her and her personal thralls, your hand always on the hilt of your sword. If she was in the hall you’d guard the exit, when she bathed you stood outside the door because she was at her most vulnerable. You made sure she knew or recognized every thrall she came into contact with, if not you patted them down for weapons before they entered her vicinity. When she was with Ivar and his bodyguards you overwatched the thralls making the meals, making sure no one came in to poison the food. All of this was excessive sure, but it was all ordered of you by King Ivar.

For that week Queen Freydis was never alone, you were constantly by her side. This was quite the irritation for Freydis, having a second shadow. She had work to get done, work someone so loyal to her husband could not be there to see. She decided she needed to either make you leave or tire you out for a few hours.

It was early morning when Freydis led you to the training grounds, “I know you have the trust of Ivar. He believes you are strong and a formidable warrior, but I would like to see your skill set for myself.”

You nod, “I understand. I will not disappoint you, my queen.”

“I hope not,” she grinned, something sinister was shown to you in her eyes. Freydis waved over some of Kattegat’s fiercest warriors, “You will start with sparring these men. First, one by one, then all together.”

You approached the middle of the training ground, waiting for your first opponent. He was a large burly man, but so was every other that waited behind him. You fought each and every one of them, you’d defeat one then another would immediately charge at you, giving you little time to breathe. It felt like you were in your own mini battle. You grew tired and each new opponent was fresh, yet you were still able to lay them out flat. Each time a man fell you’d look over to Freydis to see if she approved or if she was impressed, but you saw the opposite. Her eyes were squinted, eyebrows scrunched together, knuckles white, she was upset you were succeeding in any way.

“At her! All at once!” Freydis ordered.

The several warriors charged at you at once. You did your best to dodge their blows and stay upright. You were able to knock a few down before getting hit in the back of head with a shield. As you fell you could hear Freydis’ giggles.

When you tried to get up a warrior stepped on your back, pushing you back into the mud. “Should I finish her off, Queen Freydis?” he asked as he held his axe to your throat.

Before Freydis could open her mouth, Ivar appeared from behind her, “that’s enough! Get off of her!” Ivar limped his way over to you as you rose to your feet, “what is going on, Y/N?”

“I had to prove my strength to your queen. She asked me,” you bowed your head in his presence.

Freydis had followed behind Ivar, “I did, and you have disappointed me.” She turned to Ivar, “I do not believe she is fit to protect me.”

Ivar softly cupped Freydis’ cheek, “I understand you have your suspicions, my love. Y/N, however, has proved herself multiple times, including right now. You put her in a very unfair fight and she lasted much longer than anyone else would. She is more than fit to protect you.”

Freydis rolled her eyes then kissed Ivar’s palm, “alright, she may stay. But she should rest until tomorrow, she has been beaten brutally.” She gave her husband a mock pout, “I will be safe with one of your simple guards for tonight until she is better.”

Ivar sighed, “yes she will rest. Just for tonight. I have a meeting to attend tonight to figure out how to find Lagertha anyways.” Ivar smoothed down Freydis’ hair before he guided you away with a hand on your upper back, “I’ll take her back home.”

When you were both a good distance away and Freydis had started to walk in the other direction, Ivar leaned in and whispered, “you’re not too out of it are you?”

You shook your head, “no, I am alright, my king.”

He sighed, “Ivar. Call me Ivar. Now I need you to do something for me instead of going home.”

You nodded.

“Good. I don’t know why Freydis does not like you. But it is not jealousy. I believe she is planning something and she doesn’t want anyone loyal to me around her. I need you to follow her tonight, in secrecy. Can you do that for me?” He held eye contact with you as he waited for your answer.

“I can do that, Ivar,” with your agreement Ivar gave you a smile that reached his eyes, something he hasn’t done in some time.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night you camped outside of the great hall. You sat by the fire in a darkly colored cloak, waiting. Soon two figures exited the longhouse, they moved quickly into the streets of Kattegat. You quickly pursued them, keeping enough of a distance to not be noticed.

The figures entered a small shed. You crouched and looked into a crack in the wall of the shed. The figures removed their cloaks, it was Freydis and her closest male servant. She pushed him down and quickly untied his pants. She lifted up the skirt of her dress then climbed onto his lap. She moved on him harshly and fast, it clearly wasn’t enjoyable for either of them.

What’s the point if not for pleasure? You thought to yourself. She treats Ivar as a god and she does this to him?

Once the man finished, Freydis removed herself from him, “good enough.” She muttered but you could hear her.

“Good enough?” Oh gods. She’s trying to impregnate herself with another man’s seed. Ivar will see that as the ultimate betrayal. You removed yourself from the side of the shed and ran off before Freydis could see you.

You ran through the streets until you reached the great hall. You swung the doors open, finding no one. You searched the side chambers frantically for Ivar, finally you found him when you stumbled into his meeting with King Harald and Hvitserk.

The three of them were startled by your sudden entrance. “Well, hello to you too, Y/N,” Hvitserk chuckled.

You waved at him as you caught your breath. “Ivar, I must speak with you. Right now,” you spoke with urgency.

“It can not wait?” Ivar asked as he was already rising from his chair.

“It cannot. I need to speak with you before she arrives,” you grabbed his forearm, guiding him to another side chamber.

“Did you find something?” Worry clouded Ivar’s face.

You nodded, “I’m sorry to say I did.”

Ivar took a deep breath in, “tell me what you saw.”

“She was with another man,” you quickly rushed out.

“Ivar?” Freydis called out from a distance.

You looked towards the voice before looking back at Ivar. His eyes were welling up with tears. “Continue,” a quiet voice escaped him.

“It was her personal male servant. It was not for pleasure,” you continued in a whisper, trying not to lead Freydis to you both.

“Ivar?” Freydis’ voice grew closer.

Ivar’s face scrunched in confusion, “what do you mean?”

You looked around, making sure Freydis still couldn’t see you, “from what I saw, I believe she’s trying to produce an heir for you, by using another man.”

Ivar let out a sound of pure heartbreak and anguish. It was almost animal-like, and all you could do was stare at him with wide eyes as his head fell onto your shoulder.

You held him as Freydis stormed into the room, “Ivar!” She ripped you off of him and scowled at you as he sobbed in her arms, “what did you do to him?”

Ivar pulled himself away from her, “Freydis, why?”

Ivar the Boneless X Blacksmith reader, she/her pronouns, female reader

Plot and Smut

Warnings: P in V, fingering f receiving,

Summary: reader is the Viking blacksmith in York, England during the Great Heathen Army’s stronghold. Ivar becomes tired of not being able to walk, his right hand man White Hair brings him to you, believing you can create something to help him.

Word count: 3.7k

Weeks after Sigurd’s death and gaining the stronghold on York, Ivar sat with his newly appointed bodyguard, White Hair. White Hair had come from King Harald’s kingdom, he was a strong and stoic man that had no problem following Ivar’s every order. In addition to following orders from Ivar, he also listened to his drunk ramblings. This was one of those times. Ivar was drowning himself in mead and ale, cursing Bjorn under his breath for taking half of the army, then sobbing and apologizing to the ghost of Sigurd.

White Hair drank in silence next to his boss until Ivar threw down his empty horn. “Y’know, White Hair,” he hiccuped, “I’m sick of people looking down on me, literally.” He chuckled. “I’m done crawling around! I want to walk! I need a witch!”

White Hair smirked, “I know of someone that could help you with your wish.”

Ivar’s face grew serious. He grabbed at White Hair’s collar and yanked the large viking closely to him, “bring me to them, old man.”

And White Hair did as he was told. The next day he brought a sober Ivar to the temporary blacksmith shop that was set up. The vikings had just taken over York’s own blacksmith shop and made it their own. Ivar looked up at the man, skeptical, as he dragged himself into the shop. “I said I needed a witch. Thought at least you’d bring me to some type of healer.”

“You have been brought to healers and volvas before, no?” White Hair and Ivar waited in the front of the shop. Ivar nodded. “Magic and the gods clearly didn’t help. You need an inventor.”

You walked out of the backroom, soot on your face and hands, sweat dripping from your forehead, holding a sword that looked as if only a god was worthy enough of wielding it. You looked up, placed the sword on the wooden table with a clank, your eyes catching Ivar’s, “What can I do you for, Lord Ivar?”

“Uh– I, you’re the blacksmith?” Ivar had never seen you before, he assumed you weren’t from Kattegat. And he was incredibly confused to see a woman blacksmith, due to the physical strength needed to do the job. He looked back at the sword, and he never met any blacksmith as talented.

You nodded in response. “He wants to walk. You will make that happen,” White Hair said bluntly.

You wiped your hands and grinned widely, “finally. A challenge.” You chuckled as you walked closer to Ivar. You kneeled down to Ivar’s eyelevel, “I accept this project. But you’ll have to help me, my lord. And spend a lot of time in my shop. I will not have any patience for your anger.”

Ivar grinded his teeth together, he glared at you and White Hair. White Hair patted Ivar on the shoulder, “she’s more guaranteed than a witch, Ivar.”

Ivar nodded, “fine. I’ll be calm when I am here with you.”

“Thank you,” you shook his hand. “I will start on the designs. Come back tomorrow.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivar rose early the next morning, almost vibrating with childlike excitement to start a project that could possibly help his mobility. He crawled through the empty courtyard to find a single oil lamp lit in your shop. He lifted himself up to peer through the window, you were hunched over your work desk. You had carved strange designs into a slab of wood, with descriptions of the possible material it would be made out of. Ivar smiled, you already had step one of the project done.

He pushed open the heavy door with an open palm, startling you. You shot up from your seat, and half awake started to clumsily gather up your materials. You tripped over the table leg, “my Lord Ivar, I apologize. I didn’t expect you so soon”

He chuckled at your erratic actions, “no need to apologize, I am just excited. And if we are to be spending a long time alone together, just call me Ivar.”

You nodded, placing your materials in an orderly pile, “of course, Ivar.” You pulled out a low, clean table from the back along with a ball of string. “We’ll start with the measurements.”

Ivar pulled himself up, hopping onto the table. He bit his lower lip, trying to suppress his giddyness, “can I see your designs? I saw you carving them through the window.”

“Ah you were watching me?” you teased while Ivar rolled his eyes. You chuckled, “of course you can see.” You handed him the wooden slab.

“Now tell me what it is,” he chuckled. “Because this just looks like metal legs.”

“Basically. They’re braces. They’ll go around your legs and support them just enough for you to stand and walk. Like a skeleton on the outside.” You unraveled the string, “and we need the measurements for them to fit you perfectly.”

“And here I thought you would make me some type of smaller version of my chariot,” Ivar shrugged.

“That wouldn’t be walking. You said you wanted to walk,” you tapped your design.

“I do. I really do,” Ivar smiled with his teeth showing. “And you think you can do it?”

“With your help I think it will be quite possible,” you nodded.

Ivar slammed your design down on the table next to him, “then get to measuring me, woman!”

You chuckled, “alright, alright. I’ll start.” You moved closer to him, standing between his knees. Ivar’s face fell, he looked you up and down carefully, your eyes were trained on his legs. You moved your hands to the ties of his pants, loosening them with one pull. You hooked your fingers around the waistband.

His hands caught your wrists before you could pull his pants off, “do you have to see them?”

You met his eyes, “for accurate measurements, yes. I need to know how damaged they are as well so I know what materials to use.”

Ivar leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder. He loosened his grip on your wrists. He took a deep breath to calm himself then leaned back against the wall, fully letting go of you, “alright, take them off. But if I hear one chuckle or snort you will be hung in the middle of the courtyard for all to see.”

You smiled at him, “I understand, Ivar.” He softly smiled back at you as you gently pulled down his pants, making sure not to hurt his legs with any sudden movements. Once his frail legs were bare before you, you folded his pants and placed them next to him. You quickly covered the windows so only candles were lighting the room. You took the string and wrapped it around his upper thigh, then cut that length of string, “if you become uncomfortable or in pain, tell me and we can take a break.”

Ivar stayed silent but nodded. Whenever you had to put the string under his leg he would wrap his arms around your sturdy shoulders to keep himself upright. He brought himself close to the edge of the table, causing his nostrils to fill with only your scent of fire and everything metallic. He wondered if his braces would be as special one day as Mjolnir, Thor’s hammer. Or if you were as gifted as the dwarves that forged it from a dying star.

You placed the string down, Ivar slipped off of you then reached for his pants. You slapped his hand to stop him. His eyes widened, “ow! I thought we were done?”

“With measuring, yes. But now I need to assess how strong the structure of your legs are,” you leaned forward on the table.

“Is it going to hurt?”

“If it does, just tell me to stop or push me off,” you moved back a few steps. You lifted up one of his legs and started to squeeze his calf. Ivar groaned, you froze, “are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Keep going,” Ivar leaned his head back after you nodded and moved your hand further up his leg. You kept feeling for specific weak spots in his leg, that would make the brace need more padding in that particular spot. When you massaged his muscles to see how they reacted to the pressure, Ivar closed his eyes and moaned. You did your best not to acknowledge his sounds, not wanting him to go through with his promise of publicly executing you for making anything that sounded like laughter.

Your hands moved up his thighs, your eyes trailed up his legs to the tent now pitched in his tunic. Your mouth dropped open and you let out a small squeak. Ivar, smirked at you, he grabbed your hands and pulled them further up his thighs until they rested just underneath his tunic. He sat up straight, “you have an enticing touch. I didn’t think a blacksmith would have such soft hands.” He started to pull off his tunic, revealing his freshly inked chest. “I think I need you to touch me more.”

You grabbed his wrists, stopping him. He dropped his tunic and looked away from you, “I see. You don’t want me. I understand,” Ivar lowered his head.

You grabbed his chin, lifting it up so he’d look into your eyes. “I will not be taking advantage of you right now. Even if I want to,” you smirked.

He grinned, “not during business hours, huh?”

You nodded in agreement.

“I can wait,” Ivar grazed your arm with his fingers.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the days passed Ivar wouldn’t enter your shop unless asked inside by you. But on his own accord he would wait until the sun had set, and he would sit outside on a bench by your window to watch you work. He knew you saw him, but he didn’t care. He would watch you forge the metal for his braces and shape it. He loved seeing the sweat drip down your face, how it turned red from the heat of the fire. He admired how your muscles moved under your tunic when you hammered the joints of the brace into place.

Ivar licked his lower lip, shifting in his seat, as he continued to stare through the window. Ubbe and Hvitserk sat down on the bench on either side of Ivar. “What are you looking at, brother?” Ubbe asked.

“Watching the blacksmith create something special for me,” Ivar smirked.

“Looks more like you’re only watching her, not what she’s making,” Hvitserk teased.

Ivar turns his head towards Hvitserk and raises a brow at him, “can you blame me?”

“Have you even spoken to her?” Ubbe moves to peer through the window with Ivar.

Ivar nodded, “and she touched me, my legs. It felt nice.”

Ubbe grinned widely, “sounds like you’re smitten, Ivar.”

Ivar shook his head, “I am not. She’s just mildly seduced me.”

Hvitserk chuckled, “mildly seduced? So smitten?”

Ivar clenched his jaw, “why don’t you leave me alone and let me enjoy the view?”

As Ubbe and Hvitserk stood up while chuckling, Ivar swatted at their backs and legs. You opened the door to the shop and leaned against the doorframe, “you’ve been watching me for quite some time.”

Ivar grinned brightly, “more like waiting.”

“So patient,” you teased him. “Come on in. Come see if you like them so far.”

You held the door open as Ivar crawled through the threshold. He pulled himself up onto the same table as before. You handed him the heavy leg braces, “I haven’t yet done the padding on the inside. But the structure is finished.”

Ivar inspected the braces, “they seem very sturdy, and look like they’ll fit well.” He put the braces down beside him then grabbed one of your wrists. His thumb traced shapes on your arm, “how could I ever repay you?”

You leaned closer to him than you have before. Your nose grazed his jaw line, your breath on his neck, “five silver coins.” You giggled and pulled away from him.

Ivar moved his hands to your hips, keeping you in front of him, “yes, you’ll get your money. But that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Tell me, Ivar. Why do you want me?” You moved your hand to cup his cheek.

Ivar leaned into your touch, “you’re the first woman to look at me without disgust.” He kissed your palm, “and you’re not some scared thrall that has to follow my every order to please me. So I want to take advantage of this.”

You kissed his cheek, “is that all?”

“No. Your touches are also intoxicating. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind,” he pulled you in closer.

“You haven’t been touched, have you?” You tilted your head.

“Not in a way I enjoyed, no,” he answered. “And your concern for me is something I need.” He rested his cheek on your shoulder, then buried his head into the crook of your neck. “You’re so gentle, and soft, and comforting,” his words were muffled by your neck. He started to breathe you in.

“Still business hours, Ivar. I have to continue working,” you chuckled.

He huffed but didn’t pull away. Instead he squeezed your waist and pulled you closer. “I don’t care,” he started to kiss down from your jaw to your collar bone.

You leaned into him, your chest pressed against his as he nipped at your neck. You pulled away, “another time, in a less dangerous place.” You leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

Ivar groaned as you walked away from him, leaving his arms dangling. You smiled to yourself, “you’re welcome to stay and watch me work.”

“I can’t,” Ivar sighed. “I have to reinforce the defences,” he tilted his head and looked you up and down. “Even if I didn't, I wouldn't want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” You quirked a brow.

“Yes, if I stay I won’t be keeping my hands off of you,” he grinned widely at you.

You walked back up to him, leaning into his personal space, placing your hands next to his hips, “is that so?”

Ivar ran his fingers through your hair, “it is.” He kissed your forehead, “I have to go now. But I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A day later you met with Ivar on a boardwalk to put his braces on. He wanted to take his first steps in front of everyone. You kneeled in front of Ivar as he laid down on the worn out wood. You put the braces over his pants, around his legs, and started tightening them with a tool. Ivar grunted in pain.

Ubbe and Hvitserk walked by, “Ivar, what are you doing?” Ubbe called out to him.

Ivar smiled up at his brothers, “I’ll so you.” He sat up and moved his legs into the walkway. He took the metal crutch you also made for him to help pull himself up. Ubbe’s and Hvitserk’s eyes widened in surprise. Ivar leaned on the crutch and started to limp his way over to his brothers.

Ubbe’s jaw dropped, “you can walk.”

Ivar nodded, “I can.”

You collected your tools, picking them up off the boardwalk. Ivar watched as you started to leave. Hvitserk patted Ivar’s back, “let’s go grab a drink of ale in celebration!”

Ivar shrugged his brother’s hand off of him, “no, no. I have something much more important to attend to.”

Ivar turned and started to hobble after your retreating figure. He followed you past the shop, he tilted his head in curiosity, wondering where you could be going if not back to work. You led him all the way back to where he had set up his temporary chambers, in the old nobleman’s quarters. You turned around once you reached the door, “so, any pain?”

He huffed out a small laugh, “was that just a test to see how far I could walk?”

“Yes, and to get you alone, when I’m not working,” you licked the top row of your teeth.

Ivar grinned mischievously. He took a few steps until he stumbled into you, you caught him by the waist and he chuckled. “I still have to get used to these things,” he pulled himself back up to his feet.

“I think you’re doing great so far,” you held his waist while kicking in the door to his chambers. You both walked in, not taking your hands off each other.

“I appreciate that,” he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. He licked your jawline as he backed you up to the edge of the bed. You fell back, your back hitting the bed. He crawled on top of you and yanked down the collar of your tunic. His mouth latched to your collar bone, “I’ve needed this.”

You giggled, “have you waited long?”

“Too long,” he pulled at your tunic, “take this off.”

You listened. Sitting up you took off all your layers on your upper body leaving you half nude. Ivar laid on his stomach beside you, watching. He grabbed your clothes and threw them into a corner of the room. He pulled himself over you, his eyes met yours as his tongue met your hardened nipple. He sucked when you gasped and grabbed at the back of his neck. One hand palmed at your other breast while the other gripped your hip.

Your thigh pressed against his groin, causing him to groan. He moved his hips against your leg, and bit your breast hard. You yelped, then rolled him over onto his back. You straddled his hips. He giggled, “what? Too rough?”

You leaned down to peck him on the lips, “not at all. Just a little startling.” Ivar grinned then grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips into yours. He held your chest against his, he started to moan against your lips. His tongue swiped against the seal of your mouth, asking permission to enter. You opened your mouth. His tongue immediately started to dance with yours as he pulled at your hair.

You grinded your hips against his. Ivar pulled away from you, gasping for air, “I need to see all of you.” He untied the laces of your pants, “let me thank you for your work.”

You nodded and helped him remove your pants, you were now nude, straddling him. Ivar pulled off the wrapping around his hands. He placed one hand on your hip and the other between your thighs. Two of his fingers glided through your folds, “so wet for me.” Ivar smirked up at you when you shivered.

You nodded, then grabbed at his leather armor trying to pull it up. “Are you trying to see me, pretty girl?” He pushed his fingers into you, causing you to let out a moan. You nodded again. He sat, wrapping his arm around your waist, “go on. Undress me. Like you did before.” He kissed your jaw and pumped his fingers into you while you unbuckled his armor. “Such a good listener,” he whispered into your ear.

You pulled off his tunic, revealing his newly tattooed chest. His thumb circled your clit, he curled his fingers inside of your walls, your head dropped to his shoulder. Ivar chuckled and sped up the pace of his fingers.

You unlaced his pants, and yanked them down past his hips. Ivar grabbed your wrists, “sweetheart, I don’t– it won’t.” He let go of your wrists and placed his hands on his hips, then kissed your cheek, “I can’t. Last time, I hurt her.”

You look him in the eyes, “did it look like that when you were with her?” Your eyes drift down to his hard length that’s already leaking precum.

Ivar’s eyes widen when he looks down, “no it did not.”

You wrap your hand around his length and start to stroke him, “and did you feel like this?”

His eyes flutter shut, he groans softly, “no I did not.”

“Then that’s probably why neither of you enjoyed it,” you remove your hand from him. “But we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Ivar gripped your hips and pulled you over him. His length sliding through your wet folds, “oh no, I want to. Just don’t expect much from me.”

Your lips met his, “I’m fine with anything, Ivar.” You continued the kiss as you guided him into you. He moaned into your mouth. You moved your hips against him. He broke the kiss and moved to biting your shoulder to muffle his noises.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against him. “You’re so soft, so perfect. I need your touch,” he grabbed at your ass and hip. He pulled you down onto him hard. You yelled his name as he touched your cervix. Ivar bit his lip at your reaction then pulled you up then back down. His tip continued to punch your back spongey wall, right where you needed it. Ivar continued to manhandle you on top of him.

You threw your head back with a moan. He grabbed your chin, “no, no. Look at me.” One of his hands flew down to your clit and rubbed it in a circular motion. You clenched around him, “you’re so tight. Keep doing that.” Your walls fluttered around him. His mouth crashed into yours. He continued to guide you until both of your hips stuttered. His thighs became slick with your juices and his movements became sloppy. He let out a low groan, then ended up spilling inside of you.

His back hit the bed, he softened inside of you but kept his hands on you. You collapsed against his chest. Ivar wrapped his arms around your torso, he traced his spine with his finger, “that was better than I imagined.” He kissed the top of your head. You nuzzled into his chest, his arms tightened around you, “I think I’m going to keep you.”

You locked eyes with him, “is that so?” You kissed his inked chest while keeping eye contact.

Ivar the Boneless and King Harald’s army v The Irish Celtics + The Morrigan

One-shot: battle story

Warnings: talking animals, mentions of Norse and Celtic faith, battle, humans being mauled.

Summary: When Ivar the Boneless enters a certain park of Ireland, his gods abdomen him and he enters a battle he cannot possibly win.

Word count: 1,632

Ivar the Boneless had taken King Harald and his men to the shores of Ireland. He believed they’d be easier to defeat than the Saxons and Ireland had much more fertile land than England. The army had landed on the eastern shores of the Emerald Island a few weeks ago and had been ransacking Christian monasteries and raiding villages; they had moved their way south through the rural areas of the kingdoms.

They were now on top of a hill looking down a vast army, the first army they have seen since setting foot on this land. Harald, and Hvitserk sat upon their horses, with Ivar in his chariot, in front of their army, “where’s the cross?” Hvitserk broke the silence.

“What?” Ivar asked, confused.

“The cross. And the priest. Where are they?” Hvitserk asked again, more concerned.

“Your brother has a point, Ivar,” King Harald straightened his back, almost as if to get a better look at the army that stood before them. “Christians always have the symbol of their god when they go to battle.”

“So what does it mean? That they are not Christians?” Ivar scrunches his face.

King Harald nods, “I thought the Irish pagans were wiped out centuries ago by the Romans. I guess I was misinformed and that was only in Britain.”

Ivar shrugs, “Who cares? We’ve fought pagans before. Can’t be much different.”

King Harald chuckled, “We’ve fought our own people. These people’s way of fighting is ancient, before us.”

Ivar and Hvitserk giggled, “Yes, very ancient. Look at them!” Hvitserk gestured out to the army in front with his arm. The warriors had minimal armor, some only wearing helmets and their tunics with no pants or shoes. They had two handed axes, warhammers and longswords and longbows. It seemed their weapons were made out of bronze and iron.

“It’s pathetic, honestly,” Ivar scoffed. “I’d rather be fighting the Christians that at least try to protect themselves.”

King Harald shook his head at the disrespect.

“I have an idea. I want to see how superstitious these, what are they?”

“Celtics,” King Harald answered.

“Yes, how superstitious these Celtics are,” Ivar and Hvitserk rode forward until they were within earshot of the frontlines of the Celtic army. Ivar yelled out, “I am Ivar the Boneless! I am favored by my gods! And they are here! Can you say the same about yours?!”

Ivar and Hvitserk return to their army, when they turn they see a beautiful, goddess-like woman, with intricately braided hair, step forward. “Do you think she’s going to answer your question?” Hvitserk leaned over to whisper to Ivar.

Just as Ivar shrugged, black birds flew out of the tree tops from the nearby forest. Ivar grinned widely, “Odin” he whispered. “See, Harald. Odin is here.”

The birds let out high pitched ‘caw’ sounds and started to fly over the Celtic army. “Those are not ravens,” Hvitserk spoke.

“Then what could they possibly be?” Ivar continued to look up at the sky as one of the black birds flew down, landing on the woman’s shoulder.

“Crows,” King Harald answered.

The woman whispered to the crow on her shoulder. “What’s the difference?” Ivar turned to Harald.

“Crows aren’t with Odin. They’re with The Morrigan. The Celtic goddess of war and fate,” King Harald sighed deeply. “I believe their gods are here with them.”

“Why do you know all this?” Hvitserk inquired.

“A traveler in Kattegat told me of the Irish pagans when he found out we were going raiding here. He warned me to never battle their last standing army.”

Ivar chuckled in response, “why are you so scared, old man? Because you were warned by some loon? Because a woman with her face painted blue has a crow on her shoulder? Remember you are with the sons of Ragnar, you are now favored by Odin through proximity.”

King Harald grinned, “I suppose you’re right, Boneless. They are just people.”

Just then the crow flew from the woman’s shoulder and landed on the wall of Ivar’s chariot. The bird turned its head to look right at Ivar, its eyes zeroing in on him. The staring became almost unsettling to Ivar, he leaned backwards, away from the bird, “what’s happenin–”

The bird made a few clicking sounds, “Hello Ragnarssons.”

Everyone froze. Ivar’s eyes were as round as full moons. “Did this bird just greet us?”

Hvitserk nodded.

Ivar calmed himself and moved towards the bird, “Hello, crow. What is it that you want?”

The crow answered with one word, “leave.”

Ivar started to fume, “I will not take orders from a damn bird! We are not leaving! We have come here to raid and take land!”

The crow started to laugh, sounding eerily human. Everyone that heard this laugh, their heart rates picked up, they started to sweat. They knew no normal animal was supposed to sound like that. Ivar felt drips of sweat fall from his forehead, he became irritated by the laughing crow, “stupid bird!” He swatted at the crow when it flew off, still laughing.

“Ivar, maybe we should turn back. Go back to the Christian kingdoms,” Hvitserk suggested.

“No! It’s too late for that. They’ve mocked us. We’re fighting.” Ivar gripped the reins of his horse tightly and started the war cry. His army began to charge.

Swords and shields clash. Bloodcurdling screams rung out. Ivar hacked down every Irish warrior he ran through with his chariot. He had a target, he was aiming for the woman that sent the crow to him. She stood stoic and still in the middle of the battlefield, as if she was waiting for him and no one else.

Once Ivar got closer, she unsheathed her sword and side stepped the chariot, dodging Ivar’s axe swing. Before the chariot completely passed her, she took her sword and put it in between the spokes of the back wheel. She was able to hold her ground, causing the chariot to disconnect from the horses pulling it, launching Ivar into the air, having him land on his side.

Ivar screamed in agony. He had broken his fragile bones, more than he had experienced before. He couldn’t bring himself to move, the pain was far too great. The woman moved to stand above him. She grabbed him by the collar of his leather armor and pulled him up to face her. “Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar, descendent of the Alfather Odin,” she addressed him, her voice as smooth as the finest silk.

He growled at her, “What do you want? I clearly cannot fight back. Just end me so I can go to Valhalla already.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It is not your time to die. But it is your time to retreat. For your gods are not with you, or your brother, or your men.”

“How are you so sure?” He groaned in pain when he shifted.

“No other gods dare set foot on this sacred land. There has been an agreement,” her black eyes bore into his cold blues.

Ivar chuckled, “An agreement? You sound delusional.”

“Look around, Boneless,” she gestured with her head.

Ivar looked around the battlefield to see his men being slaughtered, even though they had outnumbered the Celtics three to one, they seemed to be losing, and fast. “How?”

“You wouldn’t like the answer. But things will get much worse if you don’t agree to leave,” she warned him.

Ivar scoffed, “I– we cannot leave.” He gritted his teeth, “We are vikings. We raid. We plunder. We do not retreat. You will see. Your men will fall soon enough, and because you’re keeping me alive I’ll be able to watch with great enjoyment.”

The woman smirked, “You asked for this, Boneless.” She brought her fingers to her mouth and whistled. Ivar turned his head when he heard the rustling coming from the forest, then he saw them. Large, silver furred, blue and golden eyed creatures. Wolves. She had summoned them.

He turned his head back to the woman once the wolves started to tear apart his men, and only his men. “You control them, don’t you? You’re The Morrigan Harald told me about.”

“Maybe I am,” she shrugged. “But I do not control the wolves, nor the crows. They listen when they want to. They are our kin, and have come to help.”

Ivar continued to watch his men be mauled. His breath quickened by fear. “We’ll leave,” he muttered.

“What was that?” She leaned in as though she could not hear him.

“We’ll leave!” Ivar yelled in the woman’s face.

The woman smirked. Finally standing back up straight she took her horn from her side and blew it, signifying the end of battle.

“RETREAT!” Ivar yelled to his men. His army fell back, running back up the hil.

Hvitserk rode his horse down to retrieve Ivar. “Brother! Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m not, you fool,” Ivar tried to crawl towards his brother but was unable to.

The woman grabbed him from behind and lifted him onto the back of Hvitserk’s horse, “I apologize for your pain, son of Ragnar. But I know you will heal because this is not your end.”

Ivar looked at the woman with curious eyes, “Is that why you did not kill me when you had the chance? Because it’s not my end?”

She nodded, “That is exactly right. You have much more to accomplish. Just not here.”

Ivar nodded in understanding.

And with that he and Hvitserk rode off with the rest of the viking army. “Y’know, that was the strangest and scariest experience of my life,” Hvitserk chuckled

Ivar the Boneless x Blacksmith/Shield maiden reader she/her pronouns

Fluff/Semi-slowburn

Warnings: blood and murder, kissing, main events of the series ‘Vikings’

Summary: You have always been by Ivar’s side, along with the rest of the Ragnarssons. You were his best friend, his defender, his sense of logic. He needed you. But eventually he had to live without you. Which taught him a lesson, he didn’t want to.

Word count: 5.8k

You’ve been a family friend of the Lothbroks since you were a child. You had been one of the few children in Kattegat to be able to develop a strong friendship with Ragnarssons, and the only one to stay.

Your father was the main blacksmith of Kattegat, he didn’t have any sons, you were his youngest daughter but his only child that showed any interest in his trade. One day he decided to bring you to work, the day he made a delivery to King Ragnar Lothbrok.

You and your father arrived at the longhouse. Your father carried a newly forged sword wrapped in cloth, he carried it to the couple sitting on their thrones. You and your father both kneeled before them, Ragnar unwrapped the sword and inspected it.

“Well done, blacksmith,” Ragnar gestured for you both to stand. “You are a great craftsman. I hope you pass your skill on to the next generation.” He smiled down at you then patted your head.

“She’s looking forward to learning more about the trade and skills,” your father smiled proudly.

“Really?” Ragnar crouched down to your level. “Well, to know how to make the perfect weapons, you need to know how to handle them,” you nodded as you listened. “My boys are out in the woods training right now. Why don’t I bring you to train with them and inspect the weapons?”

You looked up for father’s approval. He nodded. You looked back at Ragnar and agreed.

Ragnar brought you to where his sons were training, he introduced you then left. Hvitserk and Ubbe stopped sparring to stare at you, Sigurd flipped his dagger and rolled his eyes, Ivar sat on a stump holding a bow and arrow. You just waved.

As the three older brothers continued to trade off turns sparring, you walked over to Ivar on his stump. He ignored you as he shot his arrow, he missed by a long shot. He growled in irritation. He got ready to shoot again, but before he could you stood behind him and adjusted his positioning.

“Go ahead,” you encouraged.

He shot. He finally hit the target. Ivar fully turned his head to you and smiled. He decided then and there that you were going to be his friend. You didn’t have a choice.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Ivar got bigger his brothers weren’t able to pull him around in his box anymore. He was stationary again for the most part, having to pull himself everywhere with his arms. He was getting stronger, building muscle in his arms, which he liked. What he didn’t like was that he couldn’t run with the other children, feel the wind in his hair, get his energy out.

Even though you were still young and just starting to learn to hone your skills, you wanted to build something to help Ivar get back to this feeling. You asked your father for his help, showing him your designs. Though they were poorly drawn, he understood the concept. At night, during his usual time off, you and your father would be in the shop working on your project for Ivar.

A few weeks later your father rolls you into the longhouse on a light metal cart. You call out for Ivar in a sing-songy voice as Floki and Ragnar giggle. Ivar and his brothers came out from the back room, you hopped off the cart, presenting it to Ivar. “For you, Prince Ivar,” you rolled it over to him.

He smiled at you. As you held it still he pulled himself into it, taking a seat, “Why?”

“So you can keep up with your brothers when they run,” you smiled down at him.

His brothers started to giggle and look over the cart. Ubbe took the handle, pulling Ivar, “it’s so light. Let’s go try it out for real.” Once Ivar nodded in agreement, Ubbe pulled him in the chart straight out of the longhouse with Hvitserk and Sigurd following. You ran out after them. Queen Asluag yelled out, worried, but none of you heard what she said.

You all ran through the village square, you did your best to keep up while not knocking anyone down. Ubbe ran a full speed while pulling Ivar, Ivar giggled uncontrollably, gripping the sides of the cart. You all eventually stopped when you reached the edge of the woods.

Ivar looked up at you, “Y/N, thank you to you and your father. I love it.” You nodded and smiled. Ivar got to play with his brothers a little longer because of your design, that’s all you wanted.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once he became a teenager the ridicule got so much worse. There was no more sympathy for the small broken child, he was now seen as a disgrace, a curse to his bloodline. People in the village looked at him with disgust, they were scared of his anger. Anger that his very own brother, Sigurd, loved to fuel.

“You can’t do anything, Ivar! You are just a lowly cripple,” Sigurd takes a sip of his mead. “Less than human.”

Ivar grinds his teeth together, “Watch your mouth, brother.”

Sigurd chuckled, he was a bit tipsy from the mead. “What could you ever do to me? You can’t even walk.”

“I’m capable of many other things,” Ivar gripped his horn tightly.

“Yes, you are very good at slithering around like a serpent,” Sigurd grinned.

Ivar threw his horn of mead, hitting Sigurd square in the head. “Boys, stop fighting,” Aslaug said in a quiet but irritated tone.

Sigurd stood up, “you’re the reason Ragnar abandoned all of us, Ivar! He knew he was cursed once you were born and his failure in Frankia proved him right! You never should’ve been born!”

Ivar used the chairs to lift himself up, he stalked towards Sigurd while groaning in pain, “you’re going to pay for everything you’ve ever said about me, brother.”

“Ivar, sit down before you get hurt. Sigurd, apologize!” Ubbe started to stand up, but he entered the conflict too late.

Singurd pulled the chair out from underneath Ivar, causing him to fall flat on his face. He screamed out in anger and in pain.

Sigurd stormed out of the longhouse, bumping into you, almost knocking the axes and sword you were carrying out of your arms. When you walked into the longhouse you saw Ivar still on the ground, being comforted by his mother. You rolled your eyes as you handed the weapons to Ubbe and Hvitserk.

You moved to Ivar and knelt down in front of him. Aslaug left his side, he looked up at you, tears in his eyes. You pulled him up by his arms, “let’s get you up.” You lifted him to his feet and placed him in a chair. You placed his food back in front of him, then sat down next to him. His brothers and mother were no longer in the room. “You know I’m going to drag Sigurd back here when you’re calm.”

Ivar scoffed, “for what?”

“You’re brothers, you two have to talk and apologize to each other.”

“I don’t have to apologize for anything,” he shoved his food in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” you leaned back in your chair.

Ivar hit his fist against the table, “excuse me? He called me a serpent? How could I owe him an apology?”

“You two have been arguing since you were young children. Over the years it has just escalated. It's going to get to a boiling point soon enough, where neither of you can return from.”

Ivar rolled his eyes and pushed his plate away. He grunted as he got out of his seat and crawled away from you.

A few hours later you went into the woods in search of Sigurd. You found him throwing axes at a tree. You knew he was just stubborn as Ivar so you weren’t going to talk him into talking to Ivar. You crept up behind him and put him in a headlock.

“Argh! Y/N, what are you doing?” He struggled against you.

“You and Ivar are going to have a talk!” You start to drag him while you walk.

“Did he send you?” Sigurd scoffs.

“No, I came on my own accord.”

You drag Sigurd all the way to the longhouse, where Ubbe and Hvitserk are standing over a hog tied Ivar. You threw Sigurd down, Ubbe and Hvitserk tied him up also.

“Now talk. We’re not leaving until you do.” Both Sigurd and Ivar groaned.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd had all been with Margrethe, a beautiful thrall that worked for the family. Ivar believed she was the right of passage to lose his manhood. He wanted her, at least once. He told his brothers, and they came up with the plan. They set Ivar and Margrethe up in a small hut in the outskirts of the village.

You knew nothing of this plan. If you did it wouldn’t have happened. You would’ve brought logical thinking to the situation, and the Ragnarsson couldn’t have that. But you found out about it when you overheard Margrethe.

“No wonder he’s called ‘boneless’,” she giggled with her friends. “He started to tear up. I should’ve been the one crying,” they continued to laugh.

You took out your knife and grabbed her hair. Her friends went silent. You cut off the length of her hair. She gasped. “I know it’s a long shot but maybe less men will want to sleep with you now,” you then hand her your knife and the sheath they kept it on your hip. “Protect yourself. I know it wasn’t your choice to be with him.”

You go up to the Lothbrok’s hunting cabin, opening up the door to Ivar sitting by the fire. “Go away,” he was carving a block of wood.

“Not going to happen,” you sat down on the floor next to him.

He growled in irritation.

“Tell me what happened,” you took the knife and wood out of his hands.

He sighed, “I couldn’t get it up. So I wasn’t man enough to satisfy her.” You rubbed his back as he continued to rant. “I kept trying and trying. I was hurting her. I didn’t want to hurt her! That was the opposite-” his voice cracked. You pulled him into you as tears reached his eyes. “I’ll never be man enough.”

“Ivar, it was your first time. You cannot let it define you. Many men fail their first time, and they don’t have your condition.”

He pulls away, “either way she’s spreading it around. Every woman in Kattegat knows about what happened.”

You take Margrethe’s braid out of your satchel, “she’s done talking for now.” You hand him the braid, he clutches it, “one day her words will fade and you’ll either find a woman that hasn’t heard them or doesn’t care.”

“Do you care?” His icy blue eyes bore into yours.

“Ivar, I’ve been your friend since we were young children. I couldn’t care less,” you smiled warmly at him. And that’s when he cracked. Ivar grabbed the sides of your face and kissed your lips roughly. You gripped his shoulders and pushed him back. “Ivar, you’re upset. You do not care for me in that way. You need to heal from what happened with Margrethe, and using me will not help.”

Ivar sniffled but nodded, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It will never happen again.”

“It’s alright. Let me bring you back home.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, we wait for Bjorn,” Ubbe leaned up against the fence of the hunting cabin.

“No, we wait for Ivar first,” Sigurd spoke up.

You’ve been standing at the end of the dock since the Saxon ship had been spotted. Ivar and Ragnar were on their way back from England, and you had to inform them of the death of Queen Aslaug and the new rule of Queen Lagertha.

The ship docked, but the only one you recognized was Ivar. You helped him onto the dock, he looked miserable. “Where is Ragnar?” You asked before you two even said ‘hello’.

“Dead. My brothers already know. Odin should’ve visited them as he visited me,” you nodded in understanding and led him to a horse with a cart attached. “Where is my mother? Why has she not come to greet me? She was worried when I left.”

“She is not coming to greet you,” you lifted him and placed him in the cart.

“Why? Is she preparing for Ragnar’s funeral?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you this or if I should wait for your brother’s to,” you looked down at your feet.

He grabbed the collar of your tunic, “you tell me.”

“Asluag is dead. Your mother was killed by Lagertha. She is now the queen of Kattegat,” Ivar let go of your tunic, his face turned into a blank expression. “Your brothers are up at the hunting cabin.”

The entire ride up to the cabin Ivar was completely silent. When he entered the lodge he and brothers argued about what to do about Lagertha. Eventually they acted mostly on impulse and threatened Lagertha. Thankfully Bjorn came home in time. Everyone lowered their weapons and declared a truce. A truce that Ivar did not want to agree to.

The night that Queen Lagertha refused to fight Ivar in single combat he had requested to spend the night in your home. When you were children you’d spend nights in the longhouse with the Ragnarssons, but Ivar only came to your home when he was exceptionally upset.

Once the sun had set, Ivar chugged his mead and crawled into your bed. You sat next to him and he laid his head in your lap, immediately sobbing into your nightgown. All you could do that night was hold him.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Great Heathen Army had been assembled and sailed to England. It was time to fight against the Kingdom of Northumbria. They listened to Ivar’s strategies. He rode his chariot into battle for the first time, feeling like a true viking. Throughout the battle you would hop onto his chariot and use it to cut Saxon warriors down, laughing behind Ivar.

“Why do you use me so?” Ivar chuckles.

“Are you telling me not to be resourceful?”

“No, but a good shieldmaiden doesn’t need to use a cripple for a ride.” You shoved his head as you jumped off his chariot. “That’s what I thought!” He yelled out after you.

After the battle ended the Ragnarssons captured King Aelle and blood eagled him that night. In York the brothers argued about what to do with the Great Heathen Army next, things escalated between Sigurd and Ivar again.

“Ivar, you are crazy,” Sigurd stood up and stalked toward Ivar.

Ivar grabbed an axe, quickly, without thinking, he threw it at Sigurd. It landed in Sigurd’s chest. He fell dead.

You ran to Sigurd’s side, trying to wake him up while keeping blood from pouring out of his wound. You stared up at Ivar, your eyes blown wide, “Ivar, what have you done?!”

Ivar had almost made it up to Ubbe and Hvitserk, he apologized for killing Sigurd, he said his anger got the better of him and Sigurd was just fueling the fire. He had cried into your arms again. The apologies had won his brothers over but not you. You could tell he was starting to slip.

One night he came to you with an idea, metal braces to make him walk. You started right away on the designs. Spent your days and nights forging these braces and a crutch for him, until they were finally done and you were sure they’d fit him perfectly.

Ivar laid down on the walk way as you tightened the braces around his legs. Once he got up to his feet on his own and walked over to his brothers for the first time, he pulled you into a tight embrace. “Now they won’t look down on me,” he kissed your temple.

Ivar was starting to become sole leader of York, he was no longer running things by his brothers. He was becoming arrogant instead of just angry. You didn’t know why but it happened after he freed a young, pretty, blonde thrall that he had asked into his quarters. You didn’t know what she would have to do with any of it.

After the Saxon attack on York and the Viking victory, the Great Heathen Army split again. Ivar sat on a boulder on the shore as Hvitserk stepped off of Ubbe’s ship and walked to Ivar.

“See, no one is with you, Ubbe,” Ivar patted Hvitserk’s back and whispered into his ear, “where is Y/N?”

“There,” Hvitserk pointed out to the ships where you stood stoic.

Ivar clenched his jaw and yelled, “Y/N, what do you think you are doing?!”

“You cannot lead Ivar! I’ve seen that, and I refuse to see you slip further into this madness you’ve created.”

“I am not mad!” He clenched his fists, “you said you were my best friend! You’re supposed to stay with me! By my side! Not Ubbe’s!”

“Goodbye, Ivar,” you and Ubbe waved.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you settled back into Kattegat, Queen Lagertha offered you a position as one of her personal shieldmaidens as well as the blacksmith of her weapons. You accepted. For months you stood by Lagertha’s side and provided weapons to the rest of her shield maidens. You loved your new responsibilities in Kattegat, and respected Lagertha as Queen, more than you ever did Aslaug. Everything was perfect.

Until King Harald’s army approached. Ivar led them, and he saw you fight by Lagertha’s side. To him, you had betrayed him. You had already chosen Ubbe over him, now you were choosing Lagertha even after what she had done to his poor mother. King Harald’s army retreated, they were overpowered by Lagertha’s army and her Sami allies.

Lagertha was outsourcing for allies, so could Ivar. He contacted his Uncle Rollo and gained support from the Frankish army. This battle was bloodier, Ivar made sure of that. Lagertha, Bjorn, Heahmund, Ubbe, and Torvi had fled Kattegat. You were supposed to come with them but Ivar had given multiple men the mission of finding you during the battle. He was not going to let you get away again.

Once Ivar arrived in the longhouse and declared himself to be king of Kattegat, his first order of business was to visit you in the dungeon. You were chained to the wall, sitting down. Your wounds from the battle were still open and oozing blood, you were weak. Ivar limped his way over to you. He ordered his men, “go get healers! I want her alive!” His men ran out in a rush to get the healer.

Ivar leaned over, he grabbed your hair and tilted your head up. Your face was bashed in. He huffed, “what did they do to you?”

You smirked, “you mean the men you sent after me?”

He nodded, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want them to hurt you.”You spat in his face. He dropped your head, you laughed manically. Ivar started to pace around the room. He wiped his face, “you never should have left me, Y/N. Because now you’re never going to be able to leave.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve been Ivar’s thrall for a few weeks now. He put you to work for him the moment you were fully healed. You were the one to serve him all his meals, he had you stay in the room with him while he ate. You sat at the foot of his throne during meetings, he even put your bed in his chambers. He had to have an eye on you all the time. And to make sure you couldn’t get away, because he knew he couldn’t break your spirit as easily as other thralls, he kept your feet and hands chained at all times.

Ivar dragged you everywhere he went, at least until she showed up again. In some ways you were thankful for Freydis, she took away Ivar’s attention. In other ways you wished she never showed up, she made Ivar believe he was a god. He believed he should be sat with Odin and Thor in the Aesir, all you could do was roll your eyes as you saw everyone else in Kattegat fall for his words. Everyone except for Hvitserk.

When Freydis was almost due to give birth, Hvitserk came to you in the middle of the night. You were no longer sleeping in Ivar’s chambers but in the throne room on furs on the floor. Hvitserk shook you awake.

“Huh?” You sat up, “Hvitserk, what?”

“Shhh,” he started fumbling with your chains. “We’re getting out of here. We don’t belong here since Ivar has gone mad.”

“Took you long enough to come to your senses,” you stood once he undid your chains. He huffed at you as you both snuck out of the longhouse.

In the early morning Hvitserk stuffed you in a cart with livestock for you to hide under. He was stopped at the gates of Kattegat, questioned relentlessly by the guards. The sun was about to fully come above the horizon, and you knew Hvitserk wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of the walls before Ivar woke. You both jumped onto the ground and swiftly attacked the two guards, killing them before they could even make a sound. You both hid the bodies, opened the gates, and rode to the outskirts of Kattegat. There you met with Ubbe, Bjorn, Torvi and Lagertha. You met them all with tight embraces.

Lagertha put her hands on both sides on your face, “more of your spark is gone.” She moved her hands to hold your raw wrists, “he really did want to keep you, didn’t he?”

You nodded, “he kept me shackled because he knew he couldn’t break me.”

For days you all planned how to fight against Ivar’s defenses, trying to find out ways to get through the walls of Kattegat, neither you nor Hvitserk knew of ways in other than the main gate. But one day a miracle walked into the tent. Freydis.

“There is a secret opening in the wall, in case Ivar ever needed to escape. I will show you and leave it open to let you and your men in for when you’re ready to attack,” you noticed Freydis looked broken when she spoke.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Bjorn questioned her.

“He killed my baby. I cannot trust or love a man like that,” Freydis turned, “also Hvitserk, Ivar had Thora and others burned.” Then she left the tent, leaving a frozen Hvitserk.

You stormed out after her, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around. You shoved her against the tree. “Are you serious? You made him this way, put the thoughts of him being a god in his head. You let those people burn!”

Freydis rolled her eyes, “what is your point?”

You wrapped your hand around her throat, “my point is, you’re a manipulative woman and if Ivar doesn’t kill you when he finds out you betrayed him, because he will find out. I will kill you slowly and painfully. Ivar isn’t the only tyrant of Kattegat that needs to be dealt with.” You let go of her.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You didn’t reunite with Ivar until the death of his brother, Bjorn Ironside. Before you stayed in Kattegat doing your best to get Hvitserk sober, but you kept losing that sneaky bastard. When he was banished after killing Lagertha you went back to blacksmithing as your main trade. Only being a shieldmaiden if defense was needed. And it was needed sooner than you thought.

You stood on the front lines as Bjorn weakly raised his sword, his torso full of arrows. As he finally fell dead off his horse and the Rus started to retreat, you charged. You threw down your sword and shield so you could run faster. You hopped onto Ivar’s chariot before he was even able to turn fully around. You grabbed the collar of his tunic and slammed his back into the wall of the chariot.

“You ever come back to Kattegat I will make sure it is the last day you live!” You spat as you yelled in his face.

Ivar nodded silently, frightened. It confused you. There was something different about him. You had expected him to laugh in your face like a mad man. A laugh that would drive you crazy until you eventually snapped and punched out his teeth. But this Ivar looked up at you with eyes full of sorrow, as if he was sorry.

You dropped him, then left the chariot.

Even with your warning Ivar and Hvitserk still came back to Kattegat. They were accepted by King Harald and the people, especially after Ivar purposefully humiliated himself by throwing his crutch and falling over to prove he didn’t think he was a god anymore.

That night you found Ivar and Hvitserk sitting on a platform by the water. Once Hvitserk left and Ivar stood up, you grabbed him from behind and held a knife to his neck. “Hello, Y/N,” he grabbed your arm, pulling the knife out of your hand. “You hesitate too much.” He pulls you to face him.

“Of course I hesitate. You were my best friend for years, I had cared for you since my childhood,” tears started to fill your eyes.

Ivar kept your arms pinned against your chest, “then why did you leave me?” His voice broke.

“You thought you were a god, Ivar. You slipped away.”

He shook you gently in frustration, “I don’t believe that anymore, I don’t know why I ever believed that.”

“Because she poisoned your mind, and you let her.”

“I-I loved Freydis, she was the best thing that ever happened to me,” he let go of your arms. “She was beautiful, she loved me.”

You cupped his cheek, “sweet Ivar, no she didn’t. She was a delusional woman who believed she could use your passion to gain power for herself.”

He leaned into your touch, “I was mad before her.”

“I know, she knew. Why do you think she chose you? It was easier to push you where she wanted you to go.”

He leaned against you, putting his head in the crook of your neck, “why do you see everything so clearly? Even now, after being without her for a year I still think she was the love of my life, no matter how manipulative she was.”

You wrapped your arms around him, “maybe that’s what love is, I wouldn’t know.”

He wrapped one of his arms around the small of your back and pulled you against him, “you deserve to know. You’re the only one that keeps me sane.” He mumbles into your neck, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed the real you, Ivar.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivar and King Harald’s army were once again in Wessex, England. You came along as a shieldmaiden, you had missed fighting, and living in Kattegat had become too mundane for you. You spent your days with Ivar and Hvitserk, they were bickering and joking like brothers again. You didn’t know what happened over the year they were with the Rus, you didn’t need to know, you were just happy things felt normal again.

Ivar had the idea to cripple the Saxon army with traps. You were assigned to design them, help build and set them up. You were setting a foot trap up when Ivar came to check on you.

“How’s it going?” He stood above you in your crouched position.

“Good. Ahead of schedule. Then everyone can come see where they are and help hide them,” you stood up.

He nodded, “good, good.” He turned to walk back to camp. He didn’t get far until his crutch got caught on a root, he started to fall, his face and whole body were about to get ensnared in multiple spiked traps. But suddenly he wasn’t on the ground, but in your arms. You had ran to him and caught him. He didn’t understand how you were holding him so easily, or how you got to him so fast.

“We’ll clear the roots,” you smiled at him, still not putting him down.

He nodded and looked down, “your foot.”

You looked down to find your foot in a trap, spikes embedded into your calf. “It’s fine. I haven’t felt anything in that leg for a few years.” You threw Ivar over your shoulder and carried him off the field, the trap still attached to your foot.

Back at camp, you were treating your foot, Ivar was sitting with Hvitserk but he was staring at you. Hvitserk smacked Ivar’s arm, “what’s your problem?”

“I used to think I never knew what love felt like?” Ivar continues to stare at you.

“What do you mean?” Hvitserk raised an eyebrow.

“Mother only cared for me because she felt guilty for giving birth to me. You, Ubbe, and Sigurd, teased me my entire childhood, and I tortured you all one way or another as pay back. Freydis made me insane for her own good, and became pregnant by another man. Katja, I don’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t me.” Ivar sharpens his axe.

“Ivar, why are you telling me this?” Hvitserk whispers.

“I was wrong. Y/N loved me my entire life,” Ivar sighed.

“Yes, I know,” Hvitserk agrees.

Ivar’s head snaps up to face him, “what? You knew?”

“I thought you knew?” Hvitserk gestured at him, “she made you a cart when we were kids, then your leg braces. Whether it’s as friends or more, she has always loved you. She left you because she loves you and she knew she couldn’t help you where you were.”

Ivar huffs, “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Hvitserk pats his back, “always have been.”

During the first battle Ivar stayed on the platform, the entire time. He watched you. Watched you fight. Watched you move swiftly across the battlefield. He laughed every time you brutally killed a saxon. He was captivated by you.

The camp was lively that night, you danced around the fire with other shieldmaidens. Ivar admired you while he drank mead from a horn. And he kept drinking, and drinking. Eventually you grew tired and sat down next to Ivar.

“You’re beautiful,” Ivar grins widely at you.

“Thank you. Are you drunk?”

He shushed you, “you fight and dance like a true goddess, Y/N.”

You chuckled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He moved impossibly close to you, wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder. “I should’ve married you instead of Freydis. Have a child on the way with you instead of with Katja,” he mumbled.

“Ivar, you cannot say such things,” you looked down at him to find him asleep on your shoulder. You carried him to his bed, next to Hvitserk’s.

Ivar had forgotten about what he said to you, but you didn’t. You lingered near him to see if he’d show any feelings to you while he was sober. Instead you just overheard a conversation between him and Hvitserk.

“Ivar, your eyes are blue,” Hvitserk leaned forward. “You remember what that means, don’t you?”

Ivar’s jaw clenched.

“It means you’re in danger of breaking your bones. Remember what we would say, ‘not today, Ivar. Not today.’ So not today, Ivar,” Hvitserk patted Ivar’s shoulder and walked away.

“I remember,” Ivar whispered.

You sat down, taking the place of Hvitserk. “I need you to be careful today, Ivar.”

Ivar scoffed, “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not giving you pity, I just don’t want you to die.”

“If I die in battle I get to go to Valhalla,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?” His eyes widened.

“Dying in battle isn’t the only way to get into Valhalla. Those that go are personally chosen by Odin. If you die an old man of natural causes but you are still a legend he would still choose you. And not every Viking that has died in battle over the centuries is in Valhalla, not all of them have enough honor.”

Ivar let out a long sigh, “you were the only one that ever really paid attention to Floki and his teachings of the gods.”

“If you paid more attention you wouldn’t be trying to die in the next battle.”

Ivar smiled warmly at you, “I promise I’ll be careful.”

He didn’t keep that promise. During the last battle Ivar was stabbed in the abdomen, he was bleeding out in Hvitserk’s arms. When the fighting stopped you ran to them and dropped to your knees, covering his wound with your hands. “Put pressure on it, Hvitserk!”

“Y/N, he’s gone,” Hvitserk sobbed.

“No!” You ripped off his armor, then his blood drenched tunic. You saw he was still breathing, you still had time.

Shieldmaidens formed a small shieldwall around you and Hvitserk, other vikings rolled a cart up to you. You took your tunic off and tied it tightly around Ivar’s torso. Multiple men lifted Ivar and Hvitserk into the cart and wheeled them off the battlefield. You were left facing King Alfred.

You kneeled before him, “King Alfred, we surrender. We are retreating from England and will not return. If you send your men to watch our departure we will not attack in any way. I personally apologize for laying siege to your kingdom.”

King Alfred stood above you, “we accept your surrender. I expect to hear word if Ivar the Boneless survives or not.”

You stood and nodded, “of course, your Majesty.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivar woke up in the bed at the hunting cabin. “Where am I?” You entered the cabin, carrying in firewood. “Y/N?”

You dropped the logs and rushed to his side, “you’re awake.” You cupped his face in your hands.

“I thought I was dead. Why am I not dead?” He wiped away tears that were streaming down your face.

“I couldn't let Ivar the Boneless die yet. You have so much more to do,” you grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles.

“You saved me? Of course you saved me. You always save me,” he held your chin. “Y/N, I know I’ve told you this before but I need you in my life. I’ve finally realized you’re the only one I have ever truly loved. You’re good for me. You keep me sane. You keep me safe.”

Ivar the Boneless x Irish Warrior reader, female reader, she/her pronouns

Fluff/Smut

Warnings: attempted SA, blood/murder, oral f and m receiving

Summary: Ivar and Hvitserk are both alive after their battle at Wessex, thanks to the helping hand of King Alfred. But Alfred wants them alive to lead his army against another enemy, the Irish Kingdom of Uí Maine. The reader is the princess of this kingdom, and it’s her job to end the war before it begins.

Word count: 7.5k

After both Ivar and his brother, Hvitserk, almost lost their lives to the Saxons in Wessex they had made an alliance with King Alfred instead. To do some of his bidding, while also being able to complete Ragnar’s dream a different way.

“Ivar, Hvitserk,” King Alfred walked into the infirmary where the two viking brothers were healing and being treated by Christian sisters. “You both must be wondering why I am keeping you here in Wessex, and alive.” He sat at the foot of Ivar’s bed.

“Because you want us to convert,” Ivar said coldly, “to be the king to turn two sons of Ragnar to Christianity”

Hvitserk scoffs.

“No, no,” King Alfred waves his hand in a dismissing fashion. “I need your viking ways for a favor.”

“A favor?” Hvitserk straightens up.

“Yes. Once you and most of your surviving men are healed, I want my army to join with yours and you, Ivar, to lead them against an Irish clan.” King Alfred explains.

“The Irish?” Hvitserk raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, what is your quarrel with these irish? Aren’t both your people Christians? Believe in one loving god?” Ivar mocks.

“Yes, this is true. But the Irish are complicated. They believe in Christ, and in his father, god. But they still stick to their old pagan ways as well, celebrating the same fire festivals, same old gods and creatures. They’ve beheaded multiple of our missionaries and sent their heads back to us on pikes,” a slight shiver goes through King Alfred. “This clan is just as barbaric as you vikings.”

Ivar rolled his eyes, “What’s in it for us?”

“Half of their fertile land. Another reason the Kings of Wessex have been interested in gaining control of them.”

Ivar and Hvitserk exchanged looks. Ivar smiled slyly and turned to Alfred, “It’s a deal. What is this clan called?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivar and Hvitserk’s army, now a mixture of vikings and saxon warriors, landed on the east coast of Ireland and started marching west towards the great kingdom of Ui Maine. They walked through mossy green forests.

“I keep wondering about how we got here, brother,” Ivar pipes up.

“What do you mean, Ivar?” Hvitserk turns his head to him.

“We are a Christian king’s lackies,” Ivar scoffs. “And our only reward is going to be land,” he giggles.

“Half of a kingdom, Ivar” Hvitserk chuckles. “We can make you the first viking king of Ireland. We have the rest of our lives to figure things out. This is just another step.” Hvitserk pats his back.

“You’re very optimistic, brother. I’m glad to be here with you,” Ivar turned back to facing forward, trying to keep the scowl off of his face. He hated being controlled, hated being under anyone’s orders. And now he and his brothers were under the orders of the very people they were supposed to despise the most, the Christian Saxons of Wessex. He should’ve spat in King Alfred’s face when he proposed the deal. But Ivar thought, once we get rid of this threat for Wessex, we’ll gain our land and our resources and do what King Ecbert did to Ragnar’s settlement in England. Invade and slaughter.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You, your father, the king of Ui Maine, and your men have been notified of the arrival of Ivar’s army on the outskirts of the kingdom, thanks to the scouts. You and your father had just been debriefing some of the chieftains of the planned defenses against the viking army. You both were now walking through the narrow halls of the stone castle.

“I have an idea that only you can carry out, my child,” your father speaks up.

“What is it, father?”

“You have to sit out of the first few battles,” your father scrunches his face as if preparing for your furry.

You stop dead in your tracks and turn to fully face your father. You narrow your eyes, “excuse me?” You were a warrior, a fierce and legendary one at that! You had the tattoos and battle scars to prove it! How dare your father keep you from fighting against your first viking army? Especially one led by the sons of Ragnar?!

Your father put his hands on your shoulders. “These vikings don’t know who you are, my little rabid one. Without you, our armies will be evenly matched enough to exchange hostages at some point. I want to exchange you.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ve always been sneaky. I want you to use your brain on this one. Destroy their army from within. Can you do that instead of using brute force, rabid?”

You nod and your father pats you on your shoulder.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first battle was extremely bloody, there were major losses on both sides. Your father told you to stay at the camp during the battle but you couldn’t stay there to envision your men falling without you by their side. You had to at least watch. You decided to stay on the edge of the battlefield with your longbow, hunched over in the lush treetops. You shot down rarely to avoid detection, only if a chieftain was in a compromised position.

For the most part you only observed. Observed the bloodshed that you weren’t allowed to do anything about. It pained you not to fight for your people, to just sit. You looked over at the opposite side of the battlefield, and you saw them, the sons of Ragnar.

The man you assumed was Hvitserk cut through your men with his axe like a true berserker, yelling like a crazed man after every kill. The other son, Ivar the Boneless, was protected by a small shieldwall and was looking over the battle with the same fury in his eyes as you. You assumed he was the tactician, with his limp legs he had limited choices as a viking.

The battle soon ended and your men returned to camp, the wounded being tended to. You had removed your armor before anyone arrived and hoped to not be asked if you were in fact at the battlefield.

It had been multiple days since the first battle, your men were still healing and your scouts had just come to warn you that the Ragnarssons and a few flanking vikings were approaching, carrying a white flag. It was time. You rushed to your tent, changed out of your tunic and pants into a deep emerald dress. You put coal around your eyes while two of the chieftains’ wives braided knots into your hair. All your tattoos and battle scars were covered with fabric or pasty makeup, you had been made up into a fair maiden again. Still didn’t look delicate, you were too strong looking, too broad shouldered, to go back to looking delicate like you did when you were a child, but this would have to do.

You stood up and thanked the women before leaving your tent. You walked towards the edge of the camp where the white flag was staked in the ground.

“So we trade hostages?” Ivar suggests.

You roll your eyes, of course your father was right about the outcome of the Norsemen’s decision, he could read all his enemies before he ever even met them. It honestly infuriated you sometimes.

“Of course, Ivar Lothbrok. We were thinking the same thing,” the chieftain that had been placed to lead the army in your place agreed as two of your men grabbed your arms and escorted you towards the Ragnarssons. “This is Princess Y/N. She so happened to want to see some vikings up close and personal. I believe you’ll find her a worthy hostage.”

Ivar crept forward slightly on his crutch. He stayed silent for a while as he looked you up and down with his icy blue eyes. “She’s quite strong looking for a princess, isn’t she?” Ivar tilted his head.

“I assure you, she’ll behave,” the chieftain smiled.

“Of course she will,” Ivar gestured to one of his men who tied rope around your wrists. “It’s not like she, by herself, can fight her way out of a viking camp.”

Ivar had traded an English nobleman of King Alfred’s for you. He grabbed your arm and led you over to his horse. “On,” he nudged you. You pulled yourself up onto the horse, two of his men then lifted Ivar, seating him right behind you. Hvitserk mounted his horse and was then handed the reins of Ivar’s horse.

As the horses started to trot into the woods one of Ivar’s arms wrapped around your waist, “my apologies princess. But your hands are tied, I don’t want you falling off.” He held you tighter.

“Thank you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“You feel very built to be just a princess,” Ivar smiled smugly as he rested his head on your shoulder.

You stiffened, “well my father always wanted me to be able to defend myself. Just in case. He wanted me to be a bit strong, nothing insane,” you lied.

“Mhmm,” he hummed. “Your father will probably be in such disarray when he finds out his chieftains traded you.”

“I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

“Yes, we’ll all be just fine,” Ivar smirked at you.

Eventually you all reached the camp and dismounted the horses. Ivar ordered two of his men to bring you to Hvitserk and his tent, “we’ll be the ones to watch her for the night.”

Hvitserk raised a brow and turned to his brother, “why are we the ones watching her?”

“It was something King Alfred told me, about a certain warrior this Irish kingdom had in store for us.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The month before in the infirmary, when Hvitserk had already healed and Ivar still needed a little more time, King Alfred sat on the foot of Ivar’s bed again. “Ivar there is one other thing I have to warn you about before you and your men leave for Ireland.”

“What is it?” Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose.

“There’s a warrior known as the Rabid that leads the army.”

“The Rabid you say?” Now this nickname has caught Ivar’s interest. “Why is this warrior called that?”

“They fight like a feral beast, a demon from the depths of hell some say,” Ivar smirked as Alfred continued. “The last time my father’s men approached the kingdom of Ui Maine, they ripped the throat of a nobleman out, with their teeth. My father and his army retreated right then and there.”

“Well I’m sure that old man is long gone or at least not in fighting shape anymore,” Ivar sits up and pats Alfred’s back. “It's been many years after all.”

“Child,” Alfred turned to him.

Ivar tilted his head, “what?”

“When my father’s army was there, the rabid warrior was a mere child. Would be around our age now.”

Ivar went back to pinching the bridge of his nose.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I don’t see what that has to do with the princess,” Hvitserk’s eyebrows were scrunched together.

Ivar sighed, “there was no rabid warrior during the battle. And we just happen to be handed the princess of the kingdom that is as buff as the average warrior.”

“Okay, yes, it was strange they chose the princess to be the hostage. But I believe you may be stretching it a little, Ivar,” Hvitserk pats his shoulder. “Plus a child that fights like a demon sounds like Saxon propaganda more than reality.”

Ivar paused and thought, “I suppose you could be right. A rabid child makes no sense.”

You were tossed onto the ground of the tent, the men left and stood outside the opening. There were two small beds on either side of the tent, newly made of wood and animal skin. There were leather bound chests that you assumed were full of weapons and supplies.

Now what was going to be your plan? Your father just told you to be sneaky and use your brain. No offense to you or anything, but that wasn’t exactly your forte. Sure, you were great at battle strategy and defense, an amazing fighter that struck fear into your enemies hearts. But you’ve never been good with words, and you assumed this task was going to include a lot of talking on your part.

You sighed. Or of course you could just silently kill the Ragnarssons in the dead of night. You thought. No, no, too risky, everyone is packed too close together in this camp, someone would hear you. You decided you’d just try to gain the trust of the Ragnarsons, and if all else failed you’d leave into the woods and ready your men for another battle.

Ivar entered the tent and dragged himself to one of the beds, he sat down, propping his crutch up against the chest. “So Princess, what is your name?”

“Y/N of the O’Y/L/N Clan.”

“I’ve heard that is a clan of warriors. How did you learn Norse?”

“You northmen have been on this land for decades, it would be stupid not to know some of your language.”

“That’s fair,” Ivar smirks. “Come here,” he beckons with his hand.

“Why?”

“You’re our guest, you shouldn’t be tied up the entire time,” he took a knife out of its sheath at his hip. “Now come here.”

You get up and hesitantly walk over to Ivar, keeping as much distance as you can while giving him your tied wrists. Ivar took your wrists and yanked you closer to him, “relax, dove” he said barely above a whisper. “You have no need to be scared,” he cut your wrists free.

“Why would I be scared?” You hummed, “because I’m surrounded by vikings and saxons? The people my kingdom and country have had tensions with for so long.”

Ivar chuckled. He let go of your wrists, moving his hands to his legs. He winced slightly as he rubbed them.

“They hurt,” you looked down at him, still standing at the edge of his bed.

He rolled his eyes, “yes, I’ve noticed.”

You hummed, “how do you treat the pain? If you don’t mind me asking.” You go back to your spot on the ground.

“Treat the pain? It is not like I am injured. I’m just a cripple,” Ivar scoffed.

You tilt your head, “so you just deal with it? Ignore it?”

He sighed, “yes, I am viking.”

“That is stupid,” you scoffed.

“Excuse me?!” His voice was sharp.

“Living your life in pain when you could try to ease it, is stupid,” you threw your hands up. “Just because you’re a viking doesn’t mean you have to suffer from your own body.”

“The Gods made me this way, so yes it does,” his jaw tensed.

“The Gods also made the remedies,” Ivar became silent.

There was a long pause before he spoke again, “fine. What remedies do you have in mind?”

“There’s a White Willow down by the stream, I could go gather you some of its bark.”

“Tree bark?” He raised an eyebrow, “really?”

You nod, “it won’t get rid of your pain completely but it may dampen it.”

“Alright, two of my men will go with you.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked through the woods with two of Ivar’s men until you reached the White Willow by the stream you spoke about. You took out the knife Ivar had given you and started chipping away at the bark. As you put the bark away in the satchel that Ivar had also given you for this purpose, you could feel the two men creeping closer to you.

Your grip tightened on the knife as one of the men put his hand on your shoulder and smoothed it down your bicep, “you’re a pretty thing aren’t you?” You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t touch me if I were you,” you warned.

“Oh is that right?” The second man laughed and pushed you up against the tree, pinning you.

You huffed as he pressed himself against you. You put your hands against the tree and threw your head back into his nose, he stumbled backwards, blood pouring from my face. You turned to face them while rubbing the back of your head. “I warned ya.”

The first man unsheathed his sword and swung high at your head. You ducked and tackled him, quickly taking the knife to his throat and slicing it. You jumped off of the dying man and circled the other one. He gripped his axe and charged. You dodged while knocking him into a tree, causing him to fall into the shallow water of the stream. You took your opportunity and kneeled on his head until he stopped struggling.

You stood with your hands on your hips and looked down. You sighed deeply. Well there goes your no killing plan.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked back into camp with a satchel full of White Willow bark, carrying one dead man over your shoulder like a sack of grain, and dragging another one by the leg. When the men at the camp saw this, they pointed their weapons at you, Hvitserk approached you, holding his axe against your chest. You dropped both men and grinned, “my apologies, but they had it coming.”

Hvitserk chuckled without letting his guard down, “is that so? What did they do to deserve this, princess?”

“Tried to force themselves upon me,” you put bluntly.

Hvitserk lowered his axe, “understandable.” He turned to a few men, “bury the bodies.”

You walked back into Ivar’s tent and handed him his knife. “There’s blood on the blade. Why?” He looked up at you skeptically.

“Your men were touchy,” you opened up the satchel.

“I apologise, maybe I should’ve gone with you instead.”

“It is alright. Neither of them will be touching anyone again.”

Ivar’s eyes widened, and he grinned, “you killed both of them. With just this tiny blade?”

“No. Only one with the blade, the other in the stream,” you smiled at him.

He laughed. A genuine laugh. You hadn’t expected that from Ivar the Boneless.

You took bark out from the satchel, “here, chew on this.”

You handed him a piece, when he reached for it he grazed your fingers, “thank you, dove.”

Ivar chewed on the bark and started to take his leg braces off. He threw a few animal furs at you, “it’s getting late, we should get some sleep.”

You start to lay down the furs on the ground, when you notice he again isn’t doing anything for his legs, after he just took them out of stiff, tight looking metal braces. “Hold on,” you walk over to his bedside and try to pull off the fur blanket covering him.

“What are you doing?” He pulled the blanket back. He didn’t understand why you were trying to see his legs, why you were being aggressive about it as well.

You dropped the blanket, “your legs have been in tight braces all day. Your blood needs some help flowing.”

His eyes softened, “oh.” He let go of the blanket, “ how would you do that?” He continued to chew on the bark.

“Just a few firm touches,” he sat up and you sat down on the foot of his bed. You reached for his blanket again, he let you. You pulled it from his thin, deformed legs. You positioned yourself above them and started to gently massage his thighs.

Ivar closed his eyes and groaned, “this is nice. How are you touching them right now?” He moaned as you moved your hands lower, “How are you not disgusted by me, princess?”

You continued to move your hands firmly over his bare legs, “why would I be disgusted by you?” You smiled down at him.

By the gods that smile, he thought, it was such a beautiful and bright smile. The last person to smile at him like that was his Freydis. But this one lacked the worship in the eyes that hers had, and he noticed that. He noticed that you just saw him, not a god.

“Because they are gross and twisted,” he whispered.

You paused and your smile faded. No, no, he panicked. He didn’t want you to stop smiling so soon. You reached out and cupped his cheek, “don’t talk like that.”

“W-what?” he stuttered.

“Your legs are not gross, they’re just legs, and they are a part of you. You have to take care of them as you take care of the rest of yourself,” you caress his cheek with your thumb as he leans into your touch.

“But they make me weak,” he mumbles.

You took your hand away, returning your attention back to his legs. “You vikings are ridiculous with your views on strength,” you huffed.

He closed his eyes again, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You believe you’re weak, yet you still lead a great viking army. You’re a tactician, you use your brain to win battles, but can still physically defend yourself to a point,” you looked back down at his face, he was peering up at you. “I wouldn’t call you weak.”

Your hands moved back up his thighs, “you’re a sweet dove.” He grabbed your wrist and started stroking your forearm, moving the sleeve of your dress up. Ivar smirked as he revealed your blue celtic tattoos, “I knew you were a warrior.”

You pulled your hand away and pulled down your sleeve. “Tsk, tsk, don’t be shy now sweet dove. Why are you pretending to be the princess of the kingdom?” He moved his hand to your waist.

“I am the princess.”

“Is that so?” Ivar sat up, keeping his hand on you, moving it from your waist to the small of your back. “A warrior and a princess, how interesting.” He pulled you closer to his chest, “you’re strong.”

You placed your hands flat on his chest, pushing him down on his back. He huffed. You shoved another piece of bark in his mouth before hopping off of the bed. “Yes I am,” you stared down at him with your hands on your hips, “do your legs feel a bit better?”

He smiled up at you, propping his head up on his elbow, “aye, a little. I enjoyed your touches.” He continued to chew on the new piece of bark.

“Good,” you sat back down on your pile of furs. “Hopefully the bark will work its magic soon enough.”

As you pulled the fur over yourself Hvitserk entered the tent and started to take off his top layer of clothing. He laid in the bed on the opposite side of the tent of Ivar, “how are you doing, princess?”

“I am fine,” you curl up into the furs.

“So my brother hasn’t been bothering you?” He chuckled, “he enjoys trying to intimidate new people, especially ones with power.”

“Well if he’s been trying to do that, it hasn't been working. Now goodnight, Ragnarssons,” you roll over, back to Hvitserk, now facing Ivar, still staring down at you. Eventually you were able to drift off, even with his eyes on you.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day you had woken up early and snuck out of the tent, deciding to go back down to the stream to bathe before anyone else woke. Ivar may have seen some of your tattoos, but he doesn’t know the sheer amount you have that showed your victories in battle, nor has he seen any of your battle scars. You’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible, even if he seemed to like the fact you were a warrior. You shook your head at the thought. Just more of a reason to keep them from him.

You slipped off your dress then hung it on a branch of a nearby tree. You walked into the depths of the stream so you could wash your body fully submerged. The sun had just started to rise, warming your face.

Ivar rose as Hvitserk barely stirred. Ivar’s eyes widened when he saw you weren’t sleeping on your furs. He grabbed the horn cup by his bedside and threw it at Hvitserk’s back, waking him. “The princess is gone. Somehow she left without waking either of us or anyone in the camp. Get up and round a few men up to go look for her.” Hvitserk nodded, putting on his boots quickly and went to leave, “don’t tell so many people, we can’t have everyone in a frenzy.”

“Aye, I understand, Ivar. We’ll get her,” Hvitserk left the tent.

Ivar put his leg braces on as quickly as he could and grabbed his crutch, he needed to look for you. Ivar wandered the surrounding woods of the campsite until he heard splashing in the stream. He drew closer and saw your dress hanging off the tree, then he saw you. You were floating calmly on the surface of the water. Obviously, he now saw how half your body was covered in blue ink, he didn’t think you’d have so many, won so many battles. You were also quite beautiful, he thought as he leaned against the tree. He had expected you to have the body of a warrior, yes, but he didn’t know you’d also look like such a goddess.

“Went for an early morning swim?” Ivar called out to you.

You lifted your head and submerged the rest of your body back underwater, “I wanted to get a wash in before anyone woke up and had to escort me.”

“Why?” Ivar hummed and walked closer to the edge of the stream, “would it have to do with your tattoos? Showing your high status of a warrior, princess? You don’t want us to be afraid of you?”

You shrug, “something like that.”

He smiles, “well, you should come out. A few blue symbols and images won’t scare me. Besides, I want to get a better look at you.”

“Why don’t you come in instead?” You swam to the shallows.

“I can’t swim,” Ivar scoffed.

“Use me to float.”

He smirked, “how do I know I can trust you?”

“You trusted me with the bark and the massage,” you smile up at him. “And how are your legs feeling now?”

Ivar sighed, “honestly, last night was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. Probably why I didn’t notice when you left.”

“So? Will you come in?” You almost plead, “a float may relax your muscles, and the water isn’t cold.”

“Alright, princess. I'll come in,” Ivar lowered himself to the ground and began to undress as you watched from the water. He stripped off his tunic, revealing his broad, muscular, and toned upper body. Your eyes wandered over his body as he continued to remove pieces of clothing. “It seems you like to stare,” Ivar teased once he was completely nude.

“I do. What’s your point?” You grin and Ivar chuckles.

Ivar dragged himself into the shallow water then reached for your hand. You pulled him to you, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wrapped his around your shoulders. Ivar’s face turned a light pink, “this actually is quite nice.” His voice was just above a whisper.

You nod, “I told you.” One of your hands travels up and down his back, sending tingles down his spine. He hummed as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You start to move in the water with him, “you’re so kind to me, dove.” He mumbles into your neck.You wrap one of your arms tighter around his waist, moving the other to his long undone hair, massaging his scalp and playing with his hair. He groaned. He tightened his arms around you, digging his nails into your back. “Dove, you’re killing me. Why are you doing this?”

You shush him, “just relax, Ivar. You don’t have to question everything.” You scratch his head again, causing another moan to slip past his lips. His hands relaxed, taking his nails out of your skin.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not a cripple. No one has ever been this nice to me besides my mother and late wife, especially not a stranger that’s also my hostage,” he let out a sigh.

You continue to rub his back while swaying back and forth, “what about your community?”

He scoffs, “my community? I was mocked and talked down to my entire childhood. My entire life. Even though I was born a prince, I was lesser than any man.”

“Now I know why you are so confused about me showing you kindness,” you continue to stroke his back.

He chuckles, “why’s that?”

“Our cultures are different,” Ivar looks into your eyes. “People here that have physical or mental disabilities are protected under the Brehon Laws.”

Ivar raised a brow, “what are these laws?”

“Anyone who mocks someone with a disability would face severe fines. If they were a victim of a crime the people will usually rule in their favor. If family members aren’t able to care for their disabled relative they’d be cared for by the church.”

Ivar scoffs again, “the church,” he says in disgust. “Is that why you people care for the crippled and mentally slow? Because your god tells you to? That wouldn’t explain why I was treated the same way in England the way I was back home.”

You pinch his cheek and he growls. “We use the church as a resource. We help and care because the Irish still identify with the old Celtic ways. The English lost their way long ago, completely forgot where they came from before Christianity, they believe being disabled is a divine punishment.”

“And what did the ancient Celts believe the disabled were? Mhmm?” Ivar hummed.

“That they were fae from the Otherworld. Sick fairy children called Changelings.” Ivar rested his head on your shoulder as you told the myth. “The fae would kidnap a human child for their own benefit and replace them with their deformed, or usually hot tempered child.” Ivar started to relate to this. “Our ancestors treated these children with cruelty, they were confused by their differences. We are trying to make up for it now. Even now that most of us believe in the Christian god we still don’t want to anger the fae that are in either world.”

“Is that what you’re doing by being so nice to me? Trying to make up for the cruelty of your ancestors?” Ivar teased.

You chuckle, “not exactly.” You start to scratch his scalp.

He closes his eyes and practically purrs at the sensation, “then why?”

“Maybe I just think it’s a good idea to keep the enemy close,” you bump your nose against his.

“I like that idea,” he moves to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. You moved your head to the side, giving him more access. He took the opportunity to start kissing and nipping at your neck.

You tightened your arm around his waist. He palmed at your breast and pressed himself into your thigh. You could feel him grow hard.

He moved his calloused hands down your scarred back. “Forgive me, princess.” You hummed before he nipped harshly at your neck.

You yelped and shoved him off of you. As you grabbed the side of your neck Ivar began to sink. You acted fast and pulled him up to the surface, swimming him to shore, and dragging him back onto land. You got to your knees, moved yourself over him, put your hands together and over your head, then you brought them down hard, hitting his chest. Ivar’s body jerked as he coughed up the water he inhaled.

You sighed in relief. Ivar looked up at you with a small smile, his eyes soft, “you said I could trust you.”

You rolled your eyes, “why would you bite me?” You got up and put on your dress, throwing Ivar his own clothes.

He started to dress himself, “I don’t know why I did. I just felt a strong need to.” He looks down at himself. Why did I do that? He thought. She’s just another woman. I’ve been with women before. But they were delicate, soft. One made me think I was a god, the other never loved me, and they had the same face. This woman is completely different. She makes me feel completely different.

“That’s not a good reason,” you scoff. “And it didn’t have to be so hard. You almost drowned because you startled me.”

Ivar came out of his thoughts and finished dressing. “Are you scolding me right now?” Ivar chuckles.

You kneel down infront of him and start putting his leg braces back on, “seems like someone has to.”

He watched you put on his braces, he gave you a cheeky smile, “are you taking care of me, dove?”

“Again, so many questions,” he wraps his arms around your shoulders, you help him to his feet and hand him his crutch.

Ivar warmly smiled at you once he was standing on his own. She cares for me.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Ivar walked back into camp where Hvitserk and his search party had already returned. Hvitserk jogged up to you two, “you found the princess!” He said with a bright smile, then his face scrunched, “why are you both wet?” He pointed a finger between you two.

“She was bathing in the stream, I had to get her out,” Ivar walked past Hvitserk, grabbing your wrist, dragging you behind him.

“But you can’t swim!” Hvitserk called out behind him.

You and Ivar returned to the tent, he guided you to his bed and sat you down. “Let me see the bite,” he stands over you, moving your hair away from your neck. “Some skin has broken, but there’s no blood. You may end up with a bruise though,” he grazed the teeth marks with his thumb. “I apologize, sweet dove,” his nose nudged at your jawline.

“You’re forgiven, it was just startling. That’s all,” you cupped his cheek.

Ivar kissed the teeth marks on your neck. He pulled away to look you in the eyes, “I don’t want to give you back.”

You held his face in your hands, “I can’t betray my kingdom. I will have to go back.” You leaned in and kissed his nose.

Ivar smiled warmly, “careful, you’ll make me go soft.”

You patted the bed, “let me braid your hair for the day.” He nodded and sat in front of you. As you started to braid his hair you got lost in your thoughts. He wants to keep me? Want does he want to keep me as though? I won’t be a thrall to anyone. But if he wants me another way, I could use that to end the war before it even really begins. I could turn Ivar Ragnarsson against the King of Wessex. No need to kill such a pretty man that’s so sweet on me.

“You sound beautiful, dove,” Ivar’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. You had been singing softly in Irish.

“Thank you, Ivar,” you lean forward and kiss the back of his neck.

“Sweet dove, every action of yours just makes me want to keep you even more,” he leans back as you finish off his braid. He lays down, putting his head in your lap.

You stroke the sides of his face. “You can’t,” he huffs. “You’re leading the Wessex army against my kingdom. I will not leave or go against my people.”

He nuzzled into one of your hands, holding it tightly with his. He kissed your palm, “I know. You just have to be a good leader, don’t you?” He chuckles.

“Why would you want to keep me anyway?”

Ivar plays with your fingers, “for many reasons. You had just met me, you were supposed to be my enemy and you still wanted to alleviate my pain. You aren’t disgusted by me. And you’re able to hold your own, it impresses me.” He kissed your fingers, “I want to see you fight one day. I believe you’re the legendary rabid warrior.”

“You heard that legend, did you?”

Ivar nods, “and I know it's you. A goddess covered in blue ink telling her tales of victory.”

“A goddess?” You grinned.

“You have so many scars on your body. Some are pronounced. There’s no way you could’ve survived so many wounds unless you were truly a goddess,” Ivar reached up and caressed your jaw. “Plus it would also explain your beauty.”

You leaned down, letting your lips hover above Ivar’s for a few seconds, your breath fanning over his face. You grinned wider again before gently connecting your lips with his. Ivar closed his eyes and moved his hand into your hair, grabbing at it. His lips were chapped but he kissed you soft and slow, no urgency. He pulled away, removing himself from your lap. He pushed you down flat on your back while crawling on top of you. Ivar reconnected his lips with yours, this time a little rougher. You put your arms around his shoulders, he put one hand back in your hair and his other arm around the small of your back. Leaving no space between the two of you.

Ivar broke the kiss, he started to trail kisses and love bites down your jaw and throat. His hands moved to grab at your dress down at your thighs, bunching it up. You helped him, pulling your dress up and over your hips. Ivar chuckles, “seems I’m not the only eager one.”

You rolled your eyes and brought him into another searing kiss. Ivar smirked at you as he squeezed your upper thigh. He brought two of his fingers up to his mouth and sucked on them, wetting them. When he took them out he brought them to your core, running them through your folds. As you gasped he laid on top of you, kissing and nipping at your throat.

His fingers teased your slit before his thick middle finger pumped into you. He curled his finger inside you. You clawed at his shoulders, “Ivar-” you moaned his name. It was like music to his ears.

He hummed, “what is it, sweet dove? Tell me what you need.” He kissed your cheek and continued to pump his finger into you.

“More,” you raised your hips up to him.

“More what?” He teased.

“Fingers,” you glared at him.

Ivar smiled down at you before kissing you again and adding another finger to work on you. His thumb started to circle your clit. You moaned into his mouth. “I love hearing your noises,” he pumped his fingers faster and deeper, stretching out your walls as they began to flutter.

You could tell by his dumb smile that he was going to enjoy seeing you come undone far too much. You couldn’t have that, but you didn’t want him to stop anytime soon. So you thought quickly, as Ivar kept his focus on your facial expression, you reached down and palmed the bulge in his pants. His breath stuttered, “you’re going to be making noises with me.”

You pushed down the front of his pants, his long, thick length sprung up, hitting his stomach. You grabbed him carefully, using your thumb to spread the precum from his slit around the rest of his tip. Ivar let out a deep and low moan as you continued to stroke him. His own fingers froze inside of your velvety walls. You saw his eyes roll back when you moved your hand faster. But he gripped your wrist, stopping you. “No, you need to go first,” he removed your hand from him and lowered himself until he was breathing on your core.

Ivar put your thighs over his shoulders, nuzzled his nose against your bud of nerves, and licked through your folds. He moved his mouth to suck at your clit, pushing his two fingers back inside you, he pumped them at an unrelenting pace. He flattened his tongue against your bud, licking you up and down. Your hand flew into his hair, he groaned into you. The vibration of his noise and the last curl of his fingers is what brought you over the edge. Your hips stuttered, Ivar removed his fingers so he could tightly hold your hips to his face as he continued to lick up your juices.

You pushed his head away, “Ivar, too much.”

He pulled away from you, his lips and chin glistening. “Sorry, princess.”

You sat up, grabbed Ivar under his arms and pulled him to you, placing him underneath you. He grabbed your chin to bring you into a long tender kiss. You moved your hand under his tunic and up his abdomen. Once you felt his shivers you moved further down the bed and in between his legs. You kissed both of his hips, then his tip. “Dove, you can’t tease me,” he softly stroked your cheek. You nodded. Then licked a stripe up his length before taking him fully in your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks and start to bob your head, allowing his tip to hit the back of your throat. You released him from your mouth with a pop. You then teased him again by swirling your tongue around his tip. He moaned loudly but cut it short by clasping his hand over his mouth.

You went back to stroking him as he continued to moan into his hand. Your mouth was back on him in a matter of seconds, his free hand grabbed your hair. His body jerked and his warm, salty liquid shot up into the back of your throat. You released him. Ivar let out a long, low groan.

You crawled up into his arms, laying down facing him. Ivar nuzzled into your chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “I will find a way to keep you, my sweet dove.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was time to give back hostages, to discuss if the war was going to commence or if the leaders could come to an agreement. If King Alfred was there to decide he would go ahead with the war, to conquer all of Ui Maine for Wessex. King Alfred wouldn’t have even considered trading hostages. But he was back in England, and Ivar was in charge. And Ivar had met and fallen for you.

The chieftains and your father had gathered in the middle of a small clearing. They had sent word to Ivar and Hvitserk to meet them there days before.

You, Ivar, and Hvitserk rode your horses over a hill into the clearing, the army stayed behind. You dismount Ivar’s horse and join your father. Ivar dismounts, then takes a seat in the chair they set up for him, Hvitserk stands behind him. The English nobleman Ivar had traded for you stands with Hvitserk.

“Hello, sons of Ragnar,” your father greeted. “I assume you’ve gathered more forces from Wessex?”

Ivar licks his teeth and smiles, “you’d be wrong, your majesty. Although I’m supposed to be taking orders from King Alfred, someone here has changed my mind.”

Your father smiles widely, sparing a look in your direction before turning back to Ivar. “Is that right? So what are your new conditions?”

“You let my men settle here, and I mean my men. I don’t care what you do with the Saxons in the army.” Ivar looks over at you and smiles warmly, “And you’ll give me your blessing to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widened and your breath caught. Your father looked between the two of you, “you do know who she really is, don’t you?”

“She’s The Rabid, I know. I figured it out. But I want her and I’ll have her if she’ll have me,” Ivar said with complete seriousness.

Your father nodded, “then I have no disagreements. My daughter's marriage will be up to her.”

Everyone starts to disband, your father pulls you aside, “you did great my little rabid. Although I did not expect you to get Ivar the Boneless to fall in love with you.” He then patted your cheek, “I’m fine with you following your heart, just be careful.”

You nod, “I will.”

You walk towards Ivar, he holds out his arms for you, Hvitserk had already left to inform everyone of the outcome. Ivar grabbed you, pulling you into his lap. He grabbed your chin and brought your lips to his. He kissed you passionately, holding you tightly. After a while he broke the kiss so you both could catch your breath, “so what do you say, sweet dove? Will you be mine forever?”