#gyda

They spent hours in his bed, talking about anything and everything, watching movies, snacking on protein bars, fruit and other random things found in the kitchenette, although Ivar grumbled the whole time that the housekeeper had not properly stocked his room. 

Eventually, Kari did get her delightful cup of coffee, accidently moaning in bliss at the taste. It was delicious and warm and exactly what she needed at that moment, like a shot of pure sunshine and energy into her body. But when her eye fluttered back open, it was to be pierced with a dark, ravenous look in Ivar's blue eyes and she hastily put the cup down before he pounced on her. 

The delightful liquid had cooled off by the time she was able to return to it. 

As the day passed, Ivar's exhaustion showed through and the soreness permeating in her body made itself loudly known. She had taken some pain relievers and propped herself up against Ivar's headboard to watch the next movie. Ivar returned to his seemingly new favorite position of his head in her lap, and quickly fell asleep, even as he repeatedly told her he was fine. 

While the Pride and Prejudice played, Kari allowed her thoughts to drift and swirl like falling snowflakes caught in a gentle breeze. The past twenty-four hours were a turning point for her. It was as obvious as the blazing sun in the sky, but the future was as murky and cloudy as a foggy, chill morning. Logically, she knew she should still walk away, to protect herself and Ivar. It would be the smartest thing to do. And yet…she was tired of running. Tired of excuses. Ivar came for her at that hospital, even after she pushed him away. He still came and rescued her, saving her from her terror and pain. Maybe it was selfish but she decided to ignore logic and allow her heart to take the reins. Even as it scared her slightly because she knew…down to the core of her being…she knew she was falling in love with Ivar Lothbrok.

And undoubtedly, there would be repercussions for that simple fact. 

Abruptly, the bedroom door opened, slamming against the wall behind it and causing Kari to startle and jump in her seated position. 

“Kari! Oh my gods! You're okay!” Gyda exclaimed, standing in the doorway with eyes wide. Relief poured off of her in palpable waves. Without waiting for permission, she darted into the room, leaped on the bed and wrapped Kari in a suffocating hug. 

Smiling, Kari squeezed her back, ignoring the spiked tingles the hug shot through her sore muscles. 

“What the fuck?” Ivar grumbled, having lurched up at the loud impact of the door, a predatory alertness covering him until he recognized his half-sister. Currently, he rubbed his eyes and glared at her with all the fury of a wet cat. “Gyda? The fuck you doing here?”

The blonde ignored him, pulling back to look at her friend. “Ragnar called this morning and let me know about the accident. How are you feeling? Torvi is here too, we both wanted to make sure you're alright.”

Kari glanced towards the door but did not see Torvi. “I'm okay. Sore…but it could have been worse.”

“Gyda…go away.” Ivar flopped back down next to Kari and threw an arm over his eyes. 

“Ivar, shut the hell up.” Gyda snarked then softened her tone when talking to Kari. “Do you need anything? How can we help? Ragnar said you were pretty shaken up.” 

“I promise, I'm okay. I'm just taking it easy right now.”

“Good. Can you come out and see Torvi? She's in the kitchen waiting, she was pretty worried about you too. She thought if we both came in, it might overwhelm you.”

“Of course! Let me just–”

“No, she fucking won't!”

Kari glanced down at the cranky man next to her. “Ivar, it's fin–”

“I told you, we aren't leaving this bed today. Torvi can fuck off. And Gyda too. Now get the fuck out of my room!”

“Why are you such an asshole?” Gyda glared. 

Ivar sneered, still with an arm covering his eyes. “It's a gift.”

“Ivar,” Kari cooed, gently traced one of the lines tattooed on his chest, “just for a few minutes, okay? You did say earlier we needed something else to eat, maybe I can grab something and come back?”

“No.”

“Ivar, please?”

“Fuck! Fine.” Ivar grumbled childishly, still refusing to look at either of them. “Just a few minutes then you're coming right back or I'm coming to get you.”

“Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head.

Gyda climbed off the bed first with Kari carefully following, her movements betraying her body's tender state. Once she stood up, she immediately remembered she was still only in Ivar's t-shirt, something with that not-so-subtle raise of her eyebrows, Gyda definitely noted. 

“Um…I should–”

Gyda waved her hand dismissively but the smirk on her face said otherwise. “It's fine. Ubbe and Torvi are the only others here.”

“Still, I probably–”

“Sweatpants are on the first shelf inside my closet.” Ivar mumbled from the bed. 

“Thanks.” Kari followed his instructions, only taking a brief moment to acknowledge the dark walk-in closet and the vast amount of clothes and shoes in there. She grabbed a thick pair of black sweatpants that felt more like sleep pants. She rolled the bottom cuff a couple times so she did not trip over them but they fit well enough otherwise, if baggy. 

Glancing at Ivar one more time, who had not seemed to move positions, she followed Gyda out of the bedroom and down the hallways. Following the statuesque blonde, dressed in yoga pants and a cute top, Kari wondered if Ivar's bedroom had been an addition to the house she had noticed in the past. That would make sense with the winding hallways to get there and everyone else's bedroom seemingly upstairs. 

Finally arriving in the kitchen, they were greeted with the sight of Torvi, Hvitserk and Ubbe speaking quietly before noticing the two's arrival. On seeing Kari, Torvi immediately rounded the large kitchen island and wrapped Kari in a tight hug. 

“How are you doing?” Torvi asked, arms still banded around her. 

“I'm okay.”

Torvi let go and shifted back to be able to see Kari. “If you need something you tell us, that's what friends do.”

A wave of emotion for this family that gradually chose to allow her into their inner circle crashed over her like a tsunami, making her eyes watery. All she could do was nod, heart tripping over itself within her chest. Torvi squeezed her hand before slipping to her side and encouraging her to move further into the expansive kitchen. 

“When did you get here, Hvits?” Gyda asked, breaking the hovering silence. 

The flaxen-haired brother shrugged. “Father said you would be coming to check on Kari. Figured I'd come too in case Ivar gets cranky.”

Gyda snorted. “Too late. He didn't like me stealing Kari from his bed.”

“Oh, really?” Hvitserk teased, coming around the island. His gaze zeroed in on her, scanning her head to toe, at odds with the light tone of his voice. 

Without a second thought, Kari drifted away from Gyda and Torvi and took those few steps to meet Hvitserk for a hug. Instead of tackling her like Gyda did, or firmly holding her like Torvi in a sisterly hug, Hvitserk seemed to hesitate, hands lightly touching her but not pulling her closer. It was not until Kari wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest that his concern fell away and he firmly held her close. 

“I know you said you're okay, but…” His voice drifted off above her ear, arms still around her. 

“I promise. Just sore.” She whispered back. “My head and neck hurt the worst but overall it's fine…and thank you. For being there yesterday. I couldn't have–”

Running a hand over the back of her head, he softly shushed her. “Don't worry about it. I'm glad I could help, even if it was just to drive. You'll tell me if you need anything, right?” 

“I promise.”

“Good.” He leaned back and eyed her clothes with a scrutinizing look. “Mmmm…those look big on you. I think you'd look much better in mine. Want me to grab something?”

She laughed, swatting him as he chuckled. “Stop it.”

He winked at her but finally released her from the hug, moving to stand by her side. 

“So what the hell happened? Whose car were you in?” Gyda asked, taking a seat on a stool, clearly not wanting to waste another minute without knowing the details. 

“Oh, someone ran a red light, I think? They hit the back of my neighbor's sedan. Spun us a few times.” She ideally traced a pattern on the countertop, trying to ignore the nerves tapping away at her mind in memory of what happened, forcefully ignoring the budding panic building in her gut that festered if she thought about it too long. 

“What neighbor? The one with the crush on you?”

Kari mentally sighed because of course, Gyda would remember that. “Um, yeah…he…he actually asked me on a date before we were hit.”

“Wow, bad timing.” Torvi murmured. 

“That goddamn motherfucker!” 

Kari startled, head whipping towards the open entrance that she and Gyda had entered through. “Ivar?”

He slowly walked into the kitchen, shirtless with a dark pair of sweatpants riding low on his hips and a menacing snarl on his lips. “I should've hit that fucker. Fucking trying to take what's mine!” 

“I mean, it wasn't like–”

He stomped over with the aura of an impending hurricane, completely ignoring everyone else as he yanked her against his body. He towered over her, but his voice dropped low in a commanding tone that made warmth unfurl in her belly. “You're mine. My girlfriend.”

“I told him ‘no’.” She softly said, cradling the side of his face, gazing into those devastating, blue eyes. “Even then…I couldn't think of anyone but you.”

At her gentle statement, that writhing anger visibly deflated from his body, soothed by the truth in her words. Tenderly, he pressed his forehead to hers, holding her there for the span of a heartbeat as if soaking in her presence, before planting a gentle kiss to her up-turned lips. He slowly stepped away, moving around the kitchen island like this was a normal occurrence, blatantly ignoring the questioning gazes bouncing between Ivar and Kari. 

In contrast, Kari fidgeted under the scrutiny, unsure what to say, lips tingling from the sensation of their observed kiss. 

“So…are you two…together?” Gyda was the brave one to ask, looking at the brunette for confirmation. 

“Uh, yeah…we are.” Kari blushed, tugging on her earlobe even as a small smile tilted her lips up. 

“Fucking finally!” 

She glanced up at the ceiling, silently begging for patience with her boyfriend, but still smiling. It felt good to admit it aloud. To acknowledge what had been steadily growing, harboring in her chest but unspoken due to fear and doubt. Now allowed to fly freely like a bird released from its cage. 

“Congrats, Kari. I'm happy for both of you.” Hvitserk said, giving her a quick hug.

“Thanks, Hvitty.”

Hvitserk walked around the counter and gripped his brother's shoulder with quiet words spoken, seemingly congratulating him. 

“You're happy, right?” Torvi murmured from close by, glancing over at Ivar. 

Kari took a second to reply, coating her answer in quiet honesty. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

Torvi's answering smile was bright. “Good. Then we're happy for you too.”

“So why now? What changed?” Gyda asked. “Not that we aren't happy that Ivar will stop fucking moping around but ya know?”

She replied slowly, wondering how she could make anyone else truly understand what changed. “He–he came for me. Without hesitation. I gave the hospital his number as my emergency contact and…he came. I didn't think he would…after everything and how long it had been…but when I saw him there, it's silly but I knew I'd be okay. No matter how scared I was. With him there, I felt safe. That he would take care of him, and it'd be okay.”

“Wow, that's so sweet.” Torvi cooed, a hand lightly covering her mouth as if the words slipped between her fingers. 

“Oh my gods, Ivar is giving you the biggest heart eyes right now. Fuck, never thought I'd see him do that. What did you do to him?” Gyda teased, gaze cutting to the dark-haired Lothbrok. 

Ivar snarled, whatever softness dissolved instantly as he glared at her. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No, it's a good look on you. Makes you less scary.”

“Gyda, I swear to–”

Ubbe placed a firm hand on Ivar's shoulder and spoke over him. “You know we only tease because we're happy for you.”

Ivar glanced up at his elder brother then rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that made Hvitserk snort. Without another word, he turned and opened the fridge behind them. 

Thank the universe for Torvi. She asked Kari a question, dissecting the lingering tension with skillful care. “Are you taking some time off work to rest?”

“Yeah, Lydia gave me to the end of the week. I called the boutique and my boss said I could have today off.”

Torvi snorted. “That's generous of her. Did you tell her what happened?”

“Yeah…I said I could come in over the weekend.”

“I'm guessing she was not pleased.”

Kari shrugged. “I haven't worked there long enough to earn her good graces, I think.” She hesitantly eyed Gyda, who was staring at her with nothing short of a confident, smug look. “What?”

“Oh… I was just thinking about how I said that by the end of the year you'd be naked in Ivar's bed. It's nice to know I'm always right.”

“OH MY GOD!” Kari whisper-shouted, at the blonde who just winked back. Heat bloomed on her cheeks at the crass reminder, but then she simply wanted to melt into the floor when Gyda turned her gleefully, evil attention towards her half-brother. 

“Isn't that right, Ivar?” Gyda asked. 

“Gyda, no–”

“What?” Ivar set two water bottles on the counter, already turning back towards the fridge. 

“No! Please, Gyda!”

“Just reminding Kari that I always knew she'd end up in your bed.”

Turning back, Ivar narrowed his piercing eyes. “Where she would still happily be if you didn't come and drag her away.”

“Happily, huh?” Gyda goaded. 

Those piercing eyes shifted to Kari, a predatory smile crawling onto his face and heat flaring in his eyes making them shine as he practically purred his reply. “Mmm…very happily…and very satisfied. When I was done, she wouldn't be able to walk for days.”

“IVAR!” She gasped, her breath sticking to her throat, while those around laughed. Yet even as a deeper embarrassed flush colored her cheeks, butterflies swan-dived in her belly at the flooding memories of how satisfied Ivar had certainly made her. 

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Ivar moved to place both hands on the counter and lean against them, highlighting his biceps and broad, muscular chest, his gaze never leaving hers, as if daring her to say something, to be the first to look away. 

She had the sudden urge to trace those striking tattoos across his chest with her tongue. 

“Come on,” Torvi nudged her, making her sharply inhale as her mind snapped back to the present and how she and Ivar were not alone. “Let's go sit down.” 

“Ah, sure. Okay.” Kari squeaked, ignoring the heat dancing in her veins. With a brief peek at Ivar, she hastily followed Torvi towards the living room with Gyda following in their wake. She did not need to turn around to feel Ivar's gaze on her back. 

The three sat down on the massive sectional couch, close to one another with Torvi in the middle. 

As Gyda settled, Kari glared at her. 

“What?” The blonde had the audacity to ask. 

“You're a bad friend.” 

Gyda threw her head back with a loud laugh. “I'm sorry, you're just so easy to tease and…okay, it's nice to see you happy. I promise I am happy for you two. But I did call it! I told you!” 

“Still a bad friend.” Kari grumbled half-heartedly. 

Gyda smiled. “I'll make it up to you. Oh! I never told you about my latest date! I promise the tea is worth the tease.”

“It better be some pipping hot tea.”

Torvi nodded, a smile tilting up her own lips. “Oh, it is.”

Gyda launched into her story that quickly had Kari laughing and willing to forgive her friend for the embarrassment. The three continued to chat and gossip comfortably when the brothers eventually followed them, taking up their own spots around the sectional. 

“Here.” Ivar handed Kari a water bottle from where he stood next to her. 

“Oh, thank you.” She shared a grateful smile with him, a pleased vine tangling around her heart that he thought of her and found a way to take care of her. 

Shock splashed across her like a bucket of cold water as, without preamble, Ivar dropped onto the couch, but instead of sitting next to her, he laid down and put his head in her lap, with his face pressed against her stomach and arms wrapped around her hips. His body took up most of the empty space on the sectional couch. Blinking, she could only stare as he snuggled against her. Only a moment later for an undignified squeak to escape her when he rubbed his face between her legs teasingly. 

“Ivar!” She hissed. “Behave.”

“Mine.” He murmured back, but thankfully seemed to settle after reminding her of their status. 

Gyda smirked like the cat that caught the canary while Torvi only raised her eyebrows on Kari's other side, but they continued chatting uninterrupted. Ubbe and Hvitserk argued between each other on the opposite corner of the sectional about what video game to play. 

Since walking out into the kitchen, a lingering tension finally eased out of Kari's shoulders, allowing her to relax. These people she had only known for a few months, people that were becoming important to her, they approved. It should have been a simple concept but Kari found herself smiling at the feeling of friendship and acceptance flowing like a fine wine within the room. Even after everything that happened three weeks ago and since then, these people, Ivar's family, were genuinely happy for them. What a heady feeling that was for her. 

“Oh, hey!” Kari said, one hand holding her water bottle and the other lazily tracing the tattoos on Ivar's back. “You never told me how your trip to Istanbul went to visit your mom.”

“It was fun. We're already planning a trip to Morocco together.” Gyda shrugged, happiness faintly dimmed. “It kinda sucked because she seemed kind of distracted. I guess something went down between her and that asshole she was dating…Kalf, remember? Anyway, they broke up. Whatever it was, it must have been bad  because he doesn't even work for the company anymore.”

“Holy shit. What happened?” Torvi asked, shock and concern evident in her tone. 

“She won't say. All I can figure is that it must have been something really shitty. But fuck him! I didn't like him anyway!” 

“I hope your mom is okay.” Kari consoled, her heart sad for Lagertha, yet that notion was mentally shelved as she was surprised to feel a smile pressed against her stomach. She glanced down at Ivar with a furrowed brow. “What?”

“Hmmm?” He hummed without moving his face. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“What? I can't smile now?”

She rolled her eyes. “I never said that. You know what, never mind. I like it when you smile.”

“Yeah?” He tipped his head back to meet her gaze. “What else do you like about me?”

Her heart melted at the soft smile curving those delectable lips of his. His genuine smile, that unguarded part of him that he rarely allowed to escape its bonds, was her kryptonite. When he looked at her like that, like his world began and ended with her, she became puddy in his hands. 

Shoving those overwhelming feelings aside, she scoffed, even as she ran her fingers through his loose hair. “And inflate that ego of yours even more?”

“That's alright. I know you find me irresistable.” He winked, causing her to laugh. Then he reached back and grabbed her hand carding through his hair. He brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the center of her palm. “I can tell you all the things I like about you instead.”

Her heart swelled, bloated and ready to burst with adoration for this man. Heat trickled up her arm as Ivar lightly nipped at the inside of her wrist, gaze still locked on hers. What this man did to her…

“Awww…Ivar, I had no clue you had this romantic side to you.” Gyda cooed in a sickly, sweet tone. 

Kari startled, suddenly remembering that her and Ivar were not alone in his room… And if the way Ivar's eyes flash wide for a brief moment before narrowing, he had forgotten too. 

“Gyda, leave him alone.” Torvi chided. “It's sweet.”

“It's so damn weird. I want to squeeze their cheeks with how cute they are together.”

“Gyda…” Ivar breathed slowly through his nose. “Shut the fuck up.”

“And there's the Ivar we know and love!”

Kari tried and failed to suppress a smile at their bickering. Before Ivar could retort something scathing, she nudged his head and when he finally moved his face to press against her stomach, she began carding her fingers through his hair. With a resigned grumble, Ivar wrapped his arms around her once more. Only a few minutes later, Kari felt him go limp and his breathing even out. 

She continued to chat with Gyda and Torvi, talking about anything and everything. They made plans for a girls’ night at Gyda's again next week when Kari was feeling better. Hvitserk and Ubbe occasionally added their own thoughts to the conversation but mostly focused on the video game they started up. 

Eventually the two women left, Torvi confessing she needed to go back home to her family to give Asa a bath and Gyda having given her a ride over so they could check on Kari together. Ubbe paused the video game and offered to drive Torvi home if Gyda wanted to stay with Kari. The offer was declined and Kari squinted as she thought she caught a flash of disappointment cross Ubbe's face before he resumed the game.

After the women left, pizza was ordered at Hvitserk's insistence and Ivar finally decided to engage with his siblings. The three brothers continued to play the video game as Kari watched. Ivar refused to get up from her lap, only rolling over and propping a throw pillow under his head to be able to see the TV. Not that she particularly minded. With her head resting against the back of the couch, she continued to absent-mindedly play with Ivar's hair even as her mind drifted in and out, tuning out the brothers’ increasingly violent threats and taunts. 

So much had changed within the past twenty-four hours but instead of feeling overwhelmed or anxious, a contented peace infused her body and mind. As if fate had finally placed her right where she was supposed to be, creating the sense of something new, a new chapter in her life, a new turn of the wheel. Perhaps her and Ivar were inevitable, this was always where they were supposed to be. Like the three weeks apart only unfurled a hidden truth. They were better together. 

Distantly, the sound of a door opening registered in her mind but she ignored it in favor of her thoughts, musing what her future would entail now, how things would change for the better. Juggling two jobs would mean less time with Ivar, but from what she heard, he seemed busy himself, so maybe they would have to be content with more video calls and texting for a while? 

“Mom?” Ubbe said. “I thought you weren't coming until next week.”

That caught Kari's attention. 

She swiveled her head to where Ubbe was looking behind her, only for her next breath to catch in her throat. For there stood Aslaug Lothbrok looking like a queen. Grace and elegance dressed her as much as the dark green professional midi dress and white blazer jacket with gold accents. The woman was effortlessly stunning like the blazing sun, unable to withhold its shine. 

“Your father called. I wanted to check on my boys.” She said smoothly, her blue eyes meeting Kari's for a long moment before looking at Ubbe again. 

“Want some pizza? The order should be here soon.” Hvitserk said, breaking the heavy silence with the paused game.  

Aslaug smiled happily and it was pure radiance. “I'd love some.”

Gracefully in her golden heels, she maneuvered around the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of Ubbe and Hvitserk's heads, before taking a seat on Ivar's other side, who had finally sat up at hearing her voice. 

She cupped his face between her hands, staring intently at him as if able to assess injury from meeting his gaze alone. “How are you, my darling? Your father said you've been working yourself into the ground.”

“I'm fine. Shit needed to get done.” He growled but without any venom in his tone. 

“Okay,” she softly said, placing a kiss on his forehead before releasing him. “Don't let your father bully you into working extra hours.”

Ivar snorted, earning a glimmer of a smile from his mother. “Don't worry. Floki already threatened him and me. Said he'd get involved if I pulled that shit again.”

Her smile widened then. “Good. If anyone can keep your father straight, it's Floki.”

“Mad fucking bastard.” Ivar glanced at Kari before slipping his fingers through hers. Turning back to his mother, he leaned back fully against the couch. “Mom, I want you to meet Kari, my girlfriend.”

Perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose as sharp, blue eyes bounced between the Ivar and Kari. “Your girlfriend?”

“Fucking finally!”

“Ivar…” Kari hissed. 

“It's alright. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Kari.” Aslaug extended a hand over her son, warmth infused in her voice. “I've heard so much about you.”

Kari opened her mouth to say something mature and confident as she took Aslaug's hand, instead her brain veered off road, still flabbergasted that this goddess of a woman knew about her, and sprouted the first thing to come to mind. 

“Holy crap, you're even more gorgeous in real life!”

Mortification immediately seized her in a vice-like grip.  Her face burst into embarrassed redness even as her eyes widened in horror. If there was ever a possibility to turn back time, she truly wished for that ability right about now. Or to vanish. Or crawl into a hole and die. 

To her relief, Aslaug tipped her head back and released a delicate laugh, drawing out the smile lines around her eyes. “Oh, aren't you a dear. Thank you, Kari. That's kind of you to say. Look at you though! Ivar always said you were gorgeous and I can see he is correct.”

“Oh…um…I– I wouldn't say that.” The reply stumbled out, tripping over her self-consciousness. At the moment, she wore Ivar's shirt and sweatpants, both baggy on her frame. Her hair was most likely a mess and she did not have a lick of make-up on to cover the bags under her eyes or other imperfections. Gorgeous was nowhere on the list of adjectives to describe her right now. 

Harshly, Ivar gripped her chin with his other hand, eyes blazing as he pierced her with his gaze. “I say you ARE.” He emphasized that last word, sending sparks throughout her body at the utter conviction in his words. “And we all know I'm never fucking wrong.”

She rolled her eyes, even as the corners of his lips tilted up. “Fine.”

“Good…my gorgeous girlfriend.” He leaned forward and pecked a kiss to her lips, as if sealing his words to her skin. He rubbed this thumb over her lower lip for a second before dropping his hand from her chin. 

As if sensing her gaze, Kari's eyes met Aslaug's again, concerned as to what she would think about her son kissing in front of her. Instead she was shocked to see unrestrained joy and relief in Aslaug's gaze, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the two of them.  

“It's, um… it's nice to meet you too.” Kari self-consciousnessly murmured. “I love the pictures of you in Ivar's room.”

“Oh, he showed you those? Isn't he quite talented?”

“He really is.”

“I always hoped he'd do something with that skill…maybe with you as a beautiful, new muse, he might reassess his own talent.”

“I don't know— I mean…” The brunette's voice awkwardly trailed off, barely able to meet the mother or son's eyes. 

“Hmm…” Aslaug hummed thoughtfully, eyeing Kari as if she was a piece of artwork she was debating where to hang. “We'll work on that confidence. We have plenty of time to talk while I'm here.”

Kari had no idea what to make of that statement. “Ohhh… okay, sure.”

“Hey, Mom! What kind of pizza do you want?” Hvitserk called out, coming around the corner from the front door carrying three boxes of freshly delivered pizza. 

With that, the matriarch's attention shifted and Kari felt like she could take a deep breath again. Not that Aslaug intimidated her per se… okay, Aslaug imitated her a little. It was more because she knew how important Aslaug was to Ivar and however selfish it was, she wanted Aslaug to like her. Even if she logically knew Ivar was way out of her league, she still hoped to gain Aslaug's approval. 

A slow squeeze of her hand brought her attention back to Ivar. She met his gaze, holding still as he stared at her, clearly searching for something. Whatever it was, she would never know, but he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles like a chivalrous gentleman. She giggled at the action and the way her heart pounded in her chest under his affections. Without a second thought, she leaned against him, placing her head on his shoulder and entwining their fingers in her lap. 

Her boyfriend. 

Ivar was her boyfriend. 

That content peace from earlier steadily rose once again in her chest, drowning out her anxiety and lingering embarrassment. Silently, she prayed it would never leave. That whatever fate did to bring them together, would not abandon them. That these prior three weeks separated could remain behind them and only blue skies ahead. 

A/N: I need help! Now that Kari and Ivar are (finally) together, what do you think Kari's pet name for Ivar should be? Send me all the ideas!

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The door swung open without warning. Ragnar strode in, unbothered by the scathing glare that immediately burned into him. Ivar didn’t even bother to look up fully.

“If this is about the proposal,” Ivar snarled, his voice cutting through the air like a whip, “I swear to the gods, Father, I will bury this knife. In the table. Or in you. Depends on how much you piss me off.”

Ragnar smirked, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed. “Is that how you greet your father? I raised you better than this, boy.”

“You raised me to survive, not to suffer idiots,” Ivar shot back, slamming the knife down with a force that made the table creak. He finally turned, his cold blue eyes blazing. “So unless you want me to start sharpening this knife on something else, get to the point. And don’t waste my time.”

Ragnar shrugged, his calm demeanor only fueling Ivar’s irritation. “Oh, no point, really. Just watching. Making sure my favorite son isn’t sulking himself into oblivion.”

“I’m not sulking!” Ivar’s voice ricocheted off the stone walls. “I don’t care about the proposal, or about her, or about whatever stupid plan you think this will accomplish!”

“Oh, you don’t care?” Ragnar asked, raising a brow. “That’s funny. Because this,” he gestured at the knife, “this looks an awful lot like sulking. And sharpening your blade into nothing won’t fix it.”

Ivar clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “What part of ‘I don’t care’ do you not understand? Let her rot in Geiranger. Let her choke on her own pride. I don’t give a damn.”

Ragnar chuckled, shaking his head. “Is that so? Because you’ve mentioned her at least three times since I came here. For someone who doesn’t care, you’re awfully passionate about it.”

Ivar’s hand twitched toward the knife. Ragnar, unfazed, straightened up and made his way to the door. “Well, no need to worry. Bjorn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk are already on their way. You can sit here, brood, and miss all the fun.”

“What?” Ivar’s voice dropped dangerously low, a storm brewing in his tone. “You sent them to her?”

Ragnar paused at the door, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “Why not? They’re more charming than you are. Probably less likely to stab her.”

Ivar grabbed the knife and hurled it with a roar. It buried itself in the wood inches from Ragnar’s head. Ragnar didn’t even flinch, his laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared down the hall.

Ragnar stepped out of Ivar’s chambers, the faint echo of his son’s rage still resonating in his ears. The knife embedded in the wall had been a particularly fine touch, he thought with a smirk. It was Ivar’s way of saying he cared, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

In the dimly lit corridor, Ragnar was greeted by his daughter, Gyda, standing with her arms crossed and a skeptical expression on her face. Her blonde hair was neatly braided, and her eyes carried the sharp, observant glint she had inherited from him.

“How did it go?” she asked, her tone equal parts curious and concerned.

Ragnar tilted his head, his infamous half-smile spreading across his face. “Very well.”

Gyda raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Very well? I heard shouting from halfway across the hall, Father. You call that ‘very well’?”

Ragnar chuckled, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “Ah, but shouting is Ivar’s way of showing affection. If he hadn’t thrown a knife, I’d be worried.”

Gyda rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “You’re playing with fire. He’s furious about the proposal, and sending Bjorn and the others to Geiranger hasn’t exactly helped.”

“That’s the point,” Ragnar said simply, his tone maddeningly calm.

Gyda folded her arms tighter, her frown deepening. “The point is to make him angrier?”

Ragnar shrugged. “The point is to make him feel something. Anger, jealousy, frustration—call it what you will. He cares more than he wants to admit, and that’s what matters.”

Gyda studied him for a moment, then sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re too serious,” Ragnar replied, his grin widening. “But that’s why you and Ivar get along so well.”

Gyda shook her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “And what if this all blows up in your face? What if he refuses?”

“He won’t,” Ragnar said confidently.

“And what makes you so sure?” she pressed, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“Because he’s my son,” Ragnar said, his tone turning serious for a moment. “And because, whether he admits it or not, he doesn’t want to be alone. None of us do, not really.”

Gyda looked away, her expression softening. Ragnar placed a hand on her shoulder, his gaze warm but firm.

“Trust me, Gyda. This will work.”

She sighed again but nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Ragnar said, smirking as he began walking away.

“Except when you’re wrong,” Gyda called after him, a hint of mischief in her tone.

Ragnar laughed, his voice echoing down the corridor. “That’s the spirit!”

Geiranger

Yggdrasil stormed through her chambers, her boots pounding against the stone floor. The letter from Ragnar sat on the table, taunting her. Her mismatched eyes burned with barely-contained rage.

Andora, leaning against the doorframe with her usual infuriating smirk, watched her sister’s tirade with amusement. “If pacing was a skill, you’d be the best warrior in Geiranger by now.”

“Don’t start, Andora,” Yggdrasil snapped, jabbing a finger in her sister’s direction. “Ragnar Lothbrok is a manipulative, self-righteous bastard, and I’m this close—this close—to sending his precious letter back with a flaming arrow.”

Andora shrugged, unfazed. “Go ahead. I’m sure he’d admire your boldness. He’d probably frame the ashes.”

Varun, seated quietly in the corner with her arms crossed, finally spoke, her voice low but firm. “What does he want, Yggdrasil? You’ve been cursing his name for an hour, but you haven’t told us what he actually said.”

Yggdrasil snatched the letter off the table and waved it in front of them like it was venomous. “What does he want? Oh, nothing much. Just to send his sons here to ‘discuss the proposal.’ Because apparently, my life isn’t chaotic enough.”

“His sons?” Andora raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Well, isn’t that generous of him? The full parade of idiots.”

Varun tilted her head. “You’ve always said they’re like brothers to you.”

“Brothers don’t arrive under the pretense of shoving you into a marriage you don’t want,” Yggdrasil shot back. “This isn’t a family reunion; it’s a raid!”

Andora plucked the letter from her sister’s hand, skimming it with exaggerated flair. “‘Your boldness is admired.’” She snorted. “Oh, Ragnar, you sweet-talking old wolf. Flattery and manipulation in the same breath.”

Yggdrasil threw her hands up. “Admired! He admires me so much he’s decided to ruin my life. That’s his idea of affection.”

Varun, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward. “Are you going to let them in when they arrive? Or are you planning to set the gates on fire?”

“Let them in?” Yggdrasil scoffed. “I should make them sleep with the livestock. But knowing Hvitserk, he’d probably enjoy it.”

Andora burst out laughing. “Gods, I missed this. You ranting about Ragnar and his sons is better than any feast.”

Yggdrasil glared at her, though a small smile tugged at her lips despite her rage. “Laugh all you want, Andora. But mark my words: if they so much as look at me the wrong way, I’ll send them back to Kattegat in pieces.”

Varun stood, placing a steady hand on Yggdrasil’s shoulder. “You’ll deal with it, Yggdrasil. You always do.”

Yggdrasil sighed, her fury softening just a fraction. “I’ll deal with it, all right. But if Ragnar thinks this is over, he’s got another thing coming.”

Andora smirked, tossing the letter back onto the table. “Careful, sister. If you’re too bold, Ragnar might send Ivar next.”

The room fell silent, Yggdrasil’s glare darkening. Andora raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Joking. Gods, you’re touchy.”

“Out,” Yggdrasil muttered, waving them both toward the door. “Before I decide to take my anger out on you instead.”

As her sisters left, laughter still lingering in the air, Yggdrasil sat down heavily, staring at the cursed letter once more. Ragnar’s sons were coming, and with them, a storm she wasn’t sure she could weather.

Three days have passed…

The halls of Geiranger were eerily quiet, save for the faint echoes of hurried footsteps and whispered exchanges. A letter had arrived—sealed with the wolf insignia of Kattegat. It bore the unmistakable weight of Ragnar Lothbrok’s words. The contents were no mystery to Yggdrasil; she had expected as much. Yet, expectation had done little to dull her anger.

Yggdrasil paced in the grand hall, her movements restless, her dark braid whipping with every turn. Her mismatched eyes—one as icy blue as a winter sky, the other as green and fierce as the untamed forest—burned with frustration. She gritted her teeth, muttering curses under her breath. Hosting Ragnar’s sons? She would rather deal with a pack of hungry wolves.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of horses. A scout rushed into the hall, bowing his head.

“My Lady, the sons of Ragnar approach.”

Yggdrasil let out a sharp breath, rolling her eyes to the heavens as if asking the gods for strength. “Wonderful,” she muttered dryly. “The parade of fools has arrived.”

Moments later, the doors to the hall creaked open, and in strode Bjorn Ironside, Ubbe, and Hvitserk. Their presence commanded attention—towering men, each bearing the unmistakable charisma of their father. Bjorn, the eldest, had a quiet, steady confidence about him. Ubbe wore his usual half-smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. And Hvitserk? He looked like he was already planning his next inappropriate comment.

“Well, if it isn’t my dearest brothers,” Yggdrasil greeted them, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Come to bless my halls with your wisdom and charm, have you?”

“Careful, little sister,” Bjorn said, his deep voice calm yet firm. “Insults won’t make this easier for either of us.”

“Easier?” Yggdrasil shot back, crossing her arms. “Having you three under my roof is about as easy as swimming in full armor.”

Hvitserk chuckled, leaning casually against a pillar. “Oh, don’t be so sour, Yggdrasil. We’re here to discuss your... future.” His grin widened. “Besides, I missed your lovely personality. So warm. So inviting.”

“I’ll invite my sword to meet your neck if you don’t shut up, Hvitserk,” Yggdrasil snapped, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips despite herself. She turned to Bjorn. “Let’s not waste time. What does your father want now?”

Bjorn sighed, exchanging a glance with Ubbe. “You know why we’re here, Yggdrasil. Ragnar’s proposal still stands. He sent us to ensure you give it proper thought.”

“Proper thought?” Yggdrasil laughed bitterly. “I’ve given it all the thought it deserves. None.”

Ubbe stepped forward, his expression softer. “Yggdrasil, we’re not here to fight you. You know what this proposal means. It’s not just about you and Ivar. It’s about protection. About unity.”

“Unity?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You mean Ragnar wants to use me as a pawn to keep Geiranger loyal to Kattegat. Don’t dress it up as something noble, Ubbe.”

“That’s not true,” Bjorn interjected. “Our father cares for you, Yggdrasil. This isn’t just strategy. He knows what your presence in Kattegat would mean for you. Safety. A future.”

“Safety?” Yggdrasil scoffed, stepping closer to Bjorn. “Do you think I’m afraid? Do you think I need Ivar to protect me? I’ve survived worse than him.”

Hvitserk, ever the instigator, chimed in with a sly grin. “Survived, sure. But have you ever tried living, Yggdrasil? Might be nice to stop glaring at the world.”

“Careful, Hvitserk,” she warned, her tone like a blade. “Your charm doesn’t work on me.”

Ubbe raised his hands, trying to diffuse the tension. “Yggdrasil, no one’s forcing you. But you owe it to yourself to at least to speak to him.”

She fell silent, her gaze hard as steel as she studied her brothers. Deep down, she knew they weren’t her enemies. They were her family, in their infuriating, maddening way. But the thought of Ivar—angry, cruel, unpredictable Ivar—made her stomach churn.

Finally, she let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll speak to him. But if this goes as badly as I expect, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bjorn nodded, relief evident in his eyes. “That’s all we ask.”

As the brothers turned to leave, Hvitserk paused by the door, throwing her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, little sister. If you decide to kill Ivar, we’ll help you hide the body.”

Yggdrasil couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her lips. “Get out, Hvitserk, before I make good on that promise.”

When they were gone, Yggdrasil sank into a chair, her mind racing. She hated the situation, hated being cornered like this. But a small, nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t only about politics. Ragnar’s letter had spoken of protection, of family. Perhaps, against her better judgment, she would find something worth considering.

For now, she would prepare to face Ivar. If he thought he could intimidate her, he had another thing coming.

Kattegat

The great hall of Kattegat thrummed with its usual lively chaos. Warriors sharpened axes at the long tables, their laughter and boasts filling the air, while servants darted around carrying tankards of mead and trays of roasted meats. The hearthfire at the center of the room danced with a warmth that didn’t quite reach everyone present.

Ragnar lounged on his high seat, one leg hooked over the armrest, idly twirling his tankard of mead. He looked every bit the lazy jarl—until you caught the glint in his eye, a glint that promised mischief. Lagertha sat beside him, her elegance and composure starkly contrasting Ragnar’s rakish sprawl.

At a table nearby, Gyda sat with Athelstan, who was softly murmuring a prayer under his breath, as if he could feel a storm brewing. Gyda leaned over, her voice low. “Athelstan, you know praying won’t stop it, right?”

“It’s not for them,” he replied, shaking his head solemnly. “It’s for me. So I don’t run when the knives come out.”

The doors to the hall groaned open, and in strode Bjorn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk. They looked more like men who had just pulled off an elaborate prank than emissaries returning from an important mission. Hvitserk, true to form, made his presence known with a dramatic flourish.

“We’re back!” he boomed, shrugging off his cloak and tossing it at a passing servant.

Ragnar perked up instantly, leaning forward with a predatory grin. “And? What news do you bring from Geiranger?”

Bjorn stepped forward, exuding his usual quiet confidence. “She’s coming.”

The hall froze. Conversations halted, mugs paused mid-air, and even the crackling hearth seemed to quiet in the sudden tension.

From the far end of the room came a sharp metallic clang.

Ivar had dropped the knife he’d been sharpening.

“She’s what?” he snapped, his voice dripping venom.

“Coming here,” Ubbe said, his tone maddeningly casual as he leaned against a pillar. “To Kattegat. To talk.”

“Who the fuck decided that was a good idea?” Ivar growled, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously.

Hvitserk, ever the instigator, grinned as he sidled up to Ivar. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Ragnar, considering he sent us to invite her.”

Ivar’s face twisted into a snarl. “Don’t push me, Hvitserk. I swear to the gods, I’ll—”

“What? Stab me?” Hvitserk teased, raising his eyebrows mockingly. “Might as well, since I’m already dead inside.”

Ragnar’s booming laughter erupted from the high seat, cutting through the tension like a blade. He slapped his thigh, leaning back with abandon. “Oh, this is better than I thought! Look at you, Ivar! You’re about to explode like a barrel of fish left in the sun!”

Ivar rounded on Ragnar, his voice rising. “This isn’t funny!”

Ragnar only laughed harder, wiping at his eyes. “Not funny? You look like a child who’s just been told to share his favorite toy!”

Athelstan groaned softly from the table, burying his face in his hands. “Ragnar, you’re not helping.”

“Oh, come on, Aethelstan,” Ragnar said, grinning wickedly. “You can’t deny it’s entertaining. Look at him!” He pointed at Ivar, who was now gripping the arms of his chair so tightly it seemed the wood might splinter.

Gyda stood, placing a calming hand on Ivar’s shoulder. “Little brother, this doesn’t have to be a battle. Yggdrasil isn’t coming to fight you.”

“She might,” Hvitserk muttered under his breath, earning a quick elbow from Ubbe.

Gyda shot Hvitserk a glare but softened her tone as she turned back to Ivar. “She just wants to talk. That’s all.”

“Talk?” Ivar spat, his voice thick with disbelief. “What in the nine realms is there to talk about? She’s probably scheming—”

“She’s bold,” Lagertha interjected, her voice thoughtful and firm. “Coming here to face this head-on. It takes courage.”

“And a lot of guts,” Ubbe added, smirking. “She didn’t even flinch when we mentioned you, Ivar.”

Ivar’s head snapped toward Ubbe, his expression lethal. “What the fuck did you tell her about me?”

“Nothing too bad,” Ubbe said innocently, though his smirk widened. “Just that you’ve been sharpening knives and sulking since you heard about the proposal.”

“Fucking traitors,” Ivar snarled, glaring at his brothers with enough fury to set them alight.

“Calm down,” Bjorn said dryly, though his lips twitched in amusement. “or you’ll visit Valhalla before she even gets here.”

Athelstan, sensing the mounting chaos, cleared his throat nervously. “Perhaps we should focus on ensuring this... meeting doesn’t turn into a bloodbath.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hvitserk quipped, earning another booming laugh from Ragnar.

“I don’t care why she’s coming,” Ivar shouted, rising a bit from his chair. His voice cracked with unfiltered rage, though there was a flicker of something else—something closer to fear—in his eyes. “If she thinks she can walk into Kattegat and—”

“And what?” Ragnar cut him off, his tone suddenly sharp. The laughter was gone, replaced with a quiet intensity that silenced the entire hall. “What will you do, Ivar? Throw one of your tantrums and hope she runs? Scream and wave your knives like a child who’s had his toy taken away?”

Ivar’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Exactly,” Ragnar said, leaning forward, his voice low and cutting. “You’ll do nothing. Because you don’t hate her, Ivar. You’re just afraid.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath.

Lagertha, ever the voice of reason, placed a firm hand on Ragnar’s shoulder. “Enough,” she said quietly. “Let him think on it. We’ll see how he feels when she arrives.”

Ragnar leaned back with a sigh, though the amusement flickered back into his eyes. “Fair enough.”

Bjorn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk exchanged conspiratorial grins as they moved to the table.

“Five silver coins says Ivar loses it the second she steps into the hall,” Hvitserk whispered.

“Make it ten,” Ubbe replied, smirking.

“Both of you, stop,” Gyda scolded, though a smile tugged at her lips.

Ragnar, watching the scene unfold, grinned as he raised his tankard. “This is going to be the best show Kattegat has seen in years.”

Lagertha rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide her smile. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” Ragnar said, taking a swig of mead. “But you love me for it.”