#ubbe lothbrok

Can you do how they would…yk… because I can’t find any works of them ANYWHERE!! Can you include, bjorn, ubbe, hvitserk, ivar and Ragnar!

please and thank youuuuu 🥲🫶

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮

(Minors do not interact)

Master list

Including: bjorn, Ubbe, ivar, hvitserk and ragnar.

Warnings: SMUT, no use of the words 'length' we use proper autonomy here 🙂‍↕️, vulgar language.

Summary: how the Ragnarsons would fuck you. This is a FULL assessment, including positions, cock x-ray and there fuck rating.

A/N: Omg yessss of course I can!! Im always happy for new ideas and my ‘asks’ will always be a safe space for peoples ideas :) and I think i should just start a ragnarsons series tbh 🫣.

Ragnar + Sons | Sharing a bed for the first time

{Vikings TV Masterlist} Ragnar, Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar Requests for headcanons / reactions / drabbles always open~

Content warning: suggestive themes (Hvitserk)

Ragnar

He, with all his confidence, is not awkward about it at all

He lies across the animal skins, legs spread and hands behind his head, already relaxed and happy

But when he sees you standing there awkwardly, noticing that there is only the one bed to sleep in, he lets out a laugh at you and pats the furs beside him

"Why don't you come lay? I am not that scary."

He is all warmth and silence, a type of tenderness that mixes with power and marks you nervous

When you finally settle down next to him, you notice the lack of space that the small bed has made between you two

When you feel his finger along your arm, you flinch out of surprise, which causes a deep chuckle to rip from his chest before his hand keeps travelling along you

Across your arms, across your hips, and when he realises you are showing no sign of pulling away, it curls around your midsection, and you feel his hot breath against the back of your neck

During the night, he shifts closer, until his chest is against your back and his legs tucked behind yours, enjoying the warmth

I wanna request Ivar x saxon reader who came to Kattegat as a slave and who was sold to Lagertha. In her hometown she was forced to wear a blindfold made of black lace so no one could see her eyes because they were deemed as demonic from the church. Like her eyes are really crystalline and were unsettling for Christians, and she continues to wear it even in Kattegat. Perhaps the young Rangarsson finds himself to wonder about her and one day a jealous woman rips it from her face during a festive in the main hall when she was serving ivar...?

I know it's a lot but I've been thinking about this all week. 😭✨ Thank you so much!

Angel eyes

summary: Ivar thinks your eyes must be Gods-sent.

warnings: Margrethe being Margrethe, vikings scaring reader, Ivar being Ivar.

ch3rrybbie says: love the request bby, I changed it a lil hope you don’t mind🩷 sorry it took so long lol

———

How would they react to a Celtic warrior

Characters: Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Bjorn

A/N: don't kill me but I didn't see braveheart, but I know a little celtic warriors, so you would tell me if you like it.

Masterlist

Ivar the Boneless

When he saw you first time in battle, a female warrior but without an armor and tattoes, full of blood... he is thrilled.

You are the maximum representation of a Valkirie at his eyes and now you can't escape him.

He obliges you to go with him everywhere with the excuse of being a cripple who needs protection.

He also makes you train with him and you both ussually end up tangled.

He despises the idea of being saved on the battlefield but he would love to see you apraching his enemies to help him.

Taglist: @jozzieblood @kellynickelsgirl00 @winterklls @synysterlucy @rey26 @captain-shannon-becker @actual-trash-goblin @softballbeast2023 @bagpipes606 @themarvelousmaks @leglesslizardwithlegss @dreamieate @bilbotargaryen @eiramavan @maldarine @juanasunfall-blog @theingloriousmarz @reading-writing-737 @death-in-a-tar0t-card @callmesev @lost-in-saturns-ring @dany007 @gabby913 @perfectlysecretfan @straw--b3rry @mar-chuuu @thesimpofnonexistantpeople

--------------------------------------🪓--

TW: Canon typical violence, cussing, readers a bit dumb (understandably at this point)

A/N: Research has been done on brittle bone disease, "Osteogenesis imperfecta" however in as many cases as possible have stuck to canon depictions, while trying to be respectful to the lifestyle differences and challenges of the disabled community. Opinions expressed by characters do not reflect the feelings of the author.

Modern Mercy - Part 1

The forest floor crunched beneath your hiking boots as you navigated the winding trail, autumn leaves painting the world in shades of amber and crimson. You'd chosen this secluded path specifically to escape the chaos of daily life—no crowds, no noise, just you and the wilderness. The kind of solitude that made your soul feel lighter with each step, your favorite playlist humming softly through your earbuds as you lost yourself in the rhythm of walking.

But now, three hours into what should have been a simple loop trail, that peaceful solitude was beginning to feel more like isolation. The marked trail had seemingly vanished somewhere behind you, leaving you surrounded by towering pines and unfamiliar terrain that all looked frustratingly similar. The GPS app had been spinning uselessly for the last twenty minutes, showing nothing but a blank gray screen where your location should be.

"Come on," you muttered, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket with hands that trembled slightly from both cold and growing anxiety.

"Just show me where I am. Please don't tell me I'm going to be one of those people who gets rescued by a helicopter because they took a wrong turn."

Ragnar Lothbrok

Nonsexual: He tilts his head curiously as you press kisses to his battle scars, fingers ghosting over his tattoos.

“You worship me like a god… but I am just a man.” Still, your worship touches something deep, and he returns it with gentle reverence. He begins to see himself again, through your eyes.

Sexual: He’s playful, darkly intense.

“If you worship me, love, then I must bless you properly.” It becomes a game, a ritual, and a communion—bodies tangled, words sacred, desire endless.

Lagertha

Nonsexual: She acts like it doesn’t matter—“I don’t need this.” But your reverence strips away her armor. When you kiss the lines of her sword arm or clean a wound, she grows silent. Grateful.

"You remind me that I am more than just a warrior."

Sexual: She lets you lead, but the moment you start praising her, she takes control. Powerful, commanding, proud.

"Say it louder. Worship your queen."

Rollo

Nonsexual: He doesn’t know how to accept it at first. He’s always been the brute, the second. But your hands, your voice, your eyes as you run your fingers across his chest and say, “You are worthy,”—it breaks him open.

"No one’s ever treated me like I mattered. Until now."

Sexual: He becomes a beast craving praise. Your worship is his drug. He groans under your lips, your voice.

"Don’t stop. Not until you forget your own name."

Floki

Nonsexual: He laughs, almost madly. "What are you doing, strange creature?" But your lips on his ink-stained fingers, your adoration for his mind, scars, and chaos—he falls for you completely.

"You see the divinity in madness, don’t you?"

Sexual: He’s ethereal, almost ritualistic about it. The way you kiss his chest is like a prayer.

"Do you worship me, or do I worship you?" He’ll return it—equal parts lover and zealot.

Helga

Nonsexual: She is moved to tears. She has known pain and loss, and for someone to see her body—still soft, still strong—as worthy of love? It breaks her.

"You make me feel like I belong to the earth again."

Sexual: She’s gentle but intensely present. As you worship her, she whispers your name like a mantra, pulling you closer.

"Every kiss is a promise. You’ve made me feel like a woman again."

Bjorn Ironside

Nonsexual: He’s confused at first—he’s the strong one, the shield. But your gentle hands over his bruised knuckles, the way you kiss his battle-worn skin, it humbles him.

"Even warriors need this... I didn’t know how much." He kisses your hands in return, reverent and awed.

Sexual: He leans into it hard. Dominant, but worshipped—he thrives on your hunger and adoration.

"You like this body? Then it’s yours. All of it." He wants to hear your moans and praise while you worship every inch.

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Nonsexual: He smiles, at first amused. But when he feels the gentle brush of your hands across his scars, the way you hold him after a battle as if he’s sacred, it moves him.

“You always see the good in me. Even when I can’t.” He starts doing the same back—bandaging your wounds, kissing your forehead, mirroring your devotion.

Sexual: He becomes tender but dominant. He whispers praise into your skin while you kiss his, letting you explore every inch. He’s not shy—he wants you to know him, love him in every sense.

"Take your time. I'm yours."

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Nonsexual: It surprises him. He’s used to being seen as broken, unstable, but when you hold his face and whisper, “You are not lost,” it shakes him to the core. Your hands on his back, your touch steady—it makes him feel seen, not pitied.

"No one’s ever... held me like that."

Sexual: He’s a mix of needy and reverent. When you kiss his chest, trace the lines of his neck and collarbone, he gasps and holds you tightly.

"Keep going. Tell me again what I am to you." Your praise fuels his passion—he needs your worship like breath.

Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye

Nonsexual: Your worship calms his restless spirit. He’s the overlooked one, the one with fire in his eyes and something to prove. But when you press a kiss to the corner of his eye and say, “Even your rage is beautiful,” he softens.

"You always see more than anyone else."

Sexual: He becomes your willing god. Arrogant in the way only the lonely are. He lets you kneel between his legs, eyes burning.

"Say it again. That I’m beautiful. That you want only me." The power of being seen turns him fierce and possessive.

Ivar the Boneless

Nonsexual: He initially resists. He’s so used to shame, especially surrounding his legs and body, that your touch feels like fire. But when you kneel beside him and kiss each scar, murmuring, “You are more than a weapon. You are beautiful,” he’s undone. He grips your hand like it’s the only anchor he has.

“Why... why would you do that?” he whispers, almost breaking.

Ubbe

One Shots

When the sun returns, the moon must fade

After enduring a brutal winter alone, you are coldly discarded by the returning Bjorn. But in the silence of his wake, Ubbe steps forward to prove he has always been your true protector.

Where the Shield Breaks, the Heart Bleeds

Despite Ubbe’s desperate pleas to keep you safe from the vanguard, you refuse to be left behind to tend the hearth. But when the Saxon line surges and the Norns snap the thread, Ubbe transforms from a warrior into a force of nature to save the woman who holds his soul.

Where the Iron Claims, the Oak Keeps (18+)

For many moons, you have been the blade trapped between the hammer and the anvil—torn between Bjorn and Ubbe. Tonight, the sons of Ragnar do not fight for you—they share the altar.

Flesh and Blood

Watching Ubbe play in the dirt with Bjorn's children brings out a sudden, fierce confession: you want to give him a house full of his own.

Soft Hands

You refuse to be a helpless thrall when the war comes to Kattegat, but learning to hold a blade is harder than it looks. Fortunately, Ubbe’s private lesson in the mud quickly turns from deadly serious to dangerously playful.

The Winter Fortress

When the first bitter frost of winter bites into Kattegat, you build a fortress of heavy furs to escape the chill. Fortunately, Ubbe is more than happy to act as your personal hearth.

Forsworn

On the anniversary of Ragnar Lothbrok's death, his sons are too busy chasing his legend to remember his soul. Left waiting in the freezing rain at his empty burial cairn, you realize that in your brothers' relentless march to conquer the world, they have completely forgotten you.

Without My Shadow

When a deadly sickness sweeps through Kattegat, you trade your sword for the grueling, suffocating work of a healer. But when the fever finally claims you, pushing you to the brink of collapse, your brothers must step in to protect the fierce shieldmaiden who usually protects them.

Series

When the Silk Rots, the Iron Binds

Torn As the last surviving noblewoman in the slave pens, you try to remain invisible to the sons of Ragnar. But when Ivar’s cruelty finds you in the Great Hall, you realize your Christian God cannot help you here. Only the brother with the storm in his eyes can.

Woven Freedom feels like a heavy pouch of silver, but true liberation happens behind a locked door. When you return from the market to find Ubbe in the bath, the lines between master and servant dissolve in the steam. He doesn't just wash you; he renames you.

Tempered As the frost threatens to freeze you in your own bed, Ubbe makes a sacrifice that changes everything. In the darkness of the longhouse, the line between protector and lover begins to blur.

Forged You are tired of being the soft thing in a hard world. Violence is the language of the North, and if you are to survive his world, you must let it break you down so it can build you back up.

Where the Land Starves, the Wolf Feeds

Famine Kjetill Flatnose returns to a starving colony with a "savior" in tow: Ubbe Ragnarsson. But Ubbe isn't there to be a king. When he refuses the Jarl's comforts and a lack of shelter forces him into your small hut, you realize the only thing more dangerous than the freezing cold is the heat rising between you in the dark.

Feast (1.5) (18+) The excuse was survival. The plan was to share body heat to keep the frost away. But with Ubbe pressed against your back and the storm screaming outside, the cold is quickly forgotten. He promised to keep you safe, but he didn't promise to be gentle.

Tithe You and Ubbe refuse to build a second bed, choosing the heat of the night over propriety. But when Kjetill demands the starving settlers weigh their rations like gold, you burn the old laws to forge a new one: from now on, the hungry eat first, and the greedy eat last.

Heir The peace of the night is shattered by an axe through the door. Kjetill Flatnose makes his move to claim the settlement, but he makes a fatal error: he attacks two of the best warriors who knows that the only way to protect a life is to take one.

Harvest The assassination has failed, and Ubbe demands the ancient law. Down on the black sand, a madman and a son of Ragnar clash for the soul of the settlement—and as the winter finally breaks, a King and Queen rise to claim their bleeding kingdom.

The Sun, the Sea and the Shore

Salt and Snow Left behind to rule a freezing Kattegat, you find yourself drowning in the dark winter months. But while the sun is gone, the tide remains. As you turn to Ubbe for survival, you realize that the man you looked to for an anchor has become the only thing keeping you warm.

Blood and Gold The ice breaks and Bjorn returns, bringing the fire back to Kattegat. But when Bjorn corners his brother, you expect a battle for your heart, not a negotiation that will rewrite the fate of your family forever.

Breath and Bone Ubbe finally answers the call of the Golden Land, leaving you in the fierce, devoted protection of the King of Kattegat. As a harsh winter storm rages outside your longhouse, a new legacy is born into the world.

A Kingdom of Two

The Edge of Mercy You are ordered to be the shadow that keeps the son of Aslaug in chains, watching his every move. But as the blood and mud of Kattegat begin to strip away your loyalties, you realize the enemy you were sworn to hate is the only man who truly sees you.

The Burden We Share Hidden away in a Saxon cage, your stolen moments with Ubbe are your only solace in a world turned to ash. But when the price of safe harbor demands the sacrifice of your Viking souls, you must face the unbearable wrath of the Bear to protect your kingdom of two.

Bjorn Ironside

One shots

Where the Iron Claims, the Oak Keeps (18+)

For many moons, you have been the blade trapped between the hammer and the anvil—torn between Bjorn and Ubbe. Tonight, the sons of Ragnar do not fight for you—they share the altar.

The Starving Bear

Bjorn Ironside is used to women melting at his feet. But when you refuse to be just another warm body for Ragnar's son, Bjorn must drop the legend of the Ironside and prove he is just a man.

The Edge of the World

When Bjorn refuses to let you join his voyage to the Mediterranean, the argument quickly turns into a physical brawl in the center of your home. But crossing swords with you is the quickest way for the Bjorn Ironside to remember exactly why he needs you on his ship.

The Fire of Freyja

You are a woman of the fields, and Bjorn is a god of war. When the Ironside finally returns from the sea, washing the blood and salt from his skin in the quiet of your cabin turns into a desperate, passionate need to remind him what he came home for.

Far From the Kingdom

When the suffocating weight of Kattegat’s throne and the whispers of greedy Jarls become too much for the Bear to carry, Bjorn decides it is time to leave the silver behind—and he isn't asking for your permission to take you with him.

Forsworn

On the anniversary of Ragnar Lothbrok's death, his sons are too busy chasing his legend to remember his soul. Left waiting in the freezing rain at his empty burial cairn, you realize that in your brothers' relentless march to conquer the world, they have completely forgotten you.

Without My Shadow

When a deadly sickness sweeps through Kattegat, you trade your sword for the grueling, suffocating work of a healer. But when the fever finally claims you, pushing you to the brink of collapse, your brothers must step in to protect the fierce shieldmaiden who usually protects them.

Series

The Sun, the Sea and the Shore

Salt and Snow Left behind to rule a freezing Kattegat, you find yourself drowning in the dark winter months. But while the sun is gone, the tide remains. As you turn to Ubbe for survival, myou realize that the man you looked to for an anchor has become the only thing keeping you warm.

Blood and Gold The ice breaks and Bjorn returns, bringing the fire back to Kattegat. But when Bjorn corners his brother, you expect a battle for your heart, not a negotiation that will rewrite the fate of your family forever.

Breath and Bone Ubbe finally answers the call of the Golden Land, leaving you in the fierce, devoted protection of the King of Kattegat. As a harsh winter storm rages outside your longhouse, a new legacy is born into the world.

Thread and steel

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.”