Keeping promises

by AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst

Summary:

After having defeated and captured king Aelle, the vikings come upon a young woman that has been held captive by Aelle. It turns out she has ties to Kattegat. Ivar quickly takes an interest in her, but not everyone approves of this.

THIS WORK IS IN THE PROCESS OF BEING EDITED
I am going through the chapters one by one and doing some minor changes. Once I've edited all chapters I will upload them here to replace the old ones. (2018-11-12)

Notes:

The timeline is a bit different from the show. Here, Ivar was born long before before Ragnar made the deal with King Ecbert about starting a settlement. I’d say he was about 5 years old when the settlement was established. Also, the timejump in the middle of season 4 lasted long enough for the relevant characters to be considered adults/old enough to give consent. I picture Ivar and Ylva as just about to turn 18 years old (about a week after she's freed) when they meet. Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammatical errors, English isn’t my native language.

 

N.B.: This story will become more explicit later. Heads up for rape mention and violence in future chapters.

Chapter 1: They're here

Chapter 1

I’m looking out from under the bed where I’m hiding. I have no idea how long it’s been since the screaming and turmoil started, but it feels like an eternity. The small room has no windows, and the door is locked just like it’s always been. I can hear footsteps approaching the door. Tears start running down my cheeks, my breaths coming out short and shallow, and I try to crawl even further in under the bed. Someone is trying to open the door, pulling violently at the handle. Voices are discussing something outside. My eyes widen in shock. I can’t quite make out the words, but the language…it sounds familiar. Suddenly, I hear a loud boom and the door swings open. A shriek of horror escapes my mouth before I can stop it. From my position I can see three pairs of feet entering the room. They heard me. One of them quickly kneels next to the bed, grabs me by the arm and pulls me out. At first, I’m terrified: but when I see the two men and and the woman looking down at me I almost cry out in relief. The language, I knew I recognised it. The vikings, they’re here. Trying to position myself so that I’m sitting up, feeling my knees churn with pain, I reach my hand out to the man standing closest to me. They seem surprised as I smile faintly at them, tears still streaming from my eyes.

“Help me”, I whisper.

 

“What shall we do with him, brothers?”, Hvitserk asked. He was sitting at the large table in the main tent of their camp. Every map they had of England was spread out on the table. Björn and Ubbe stood at the short-end, inspecting the map showing the kingdom of Northumbria. Björn looked at his brother, fire in his eyes.

“We make him show us where he killed our father.” They all nodded in agreement. Ivar, who had been quietly fiddling with a knife since they returned, added:

“And then we will draw a blood eagle.” He slowly carved a line in the table, illustrating what would happen with King Aelle’s back. Ivar looked up from his carving, still pressing the knife into the table.

“I’ll do it”, he said quietly. Björn scoffed. Immediately, Ivar’s grip on the knife tightened. Björn stepped forward, looking down at Ivar in his chair.

“I am the eldest, and I am the leader. You will not take this from me.” Ivar stared back at his oldest brother, still holding on to the knife. Ubbe quickly interrupted.

“Look, the rest of the warriors have returned”, nodding towards the group of people entering the camp.

“I wonder if they found any more treasure”, Hvitserk said with a nervous smile, eager to diffuse the tension.

“We’ll soon find out”, Björn said as he slowly stepped away from Ivar. One of the new arrivals, a young woman, came rushing towards the tent. Upon entering, she quickly bowed her head.

“My princes”, she said, her voice anxious and her gaze firmly locked to the ground.

“What is it?”, Björn looked concerned. All of the brothers directed their full attention on her now. Ivar, Sigurd and Hvitserk leaned over the table. Finally looking up at them again, the woman tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“We found something, or rather someone, in the house. A woman. It seems she has been kept as a prisoner. She was hiding under a bed in one of the locked rooms.”

“So?”, Sigurd asked “What does it matter to us? If she’s used to being a slave she’ll be useful.” The woman exhaled nervously.

“My princes, she speaks our language. It seems she comes from Kattegatt.”

Chapter 2: Ylva

Sigurd and Hvitserk immediately sat up straight in their chairs. Ivars’ eyes widened and he leaned in even further. Björn and Ubbe exchanged a shocked look. There was a short paus.

“Bring her here”, Björn demanded. The woman nodded and hurried away.
“Interesting”, Ivar mused. Ubbe frowned.
“I wonder how she came to be here”
“We’ll find out soon enough. Regardless, I’m sure she’ll be very useful”, Ivar answered as a grin spread over his face.

Soon the woman returned, accompanied by a man who was carrying a girl in his arms. She looked thin and fragile wrapped in a fur and a cloak that seemed big enough to fit at least two of her. Tufts of dark blonde hair poked out of the hood and her eyes had a tired look about them. The man gently put her down in one of the empty chairs. The girl shifted in the chair, trying to get more comfortable. Björn nodded at the man and woman.
“Leave us.” As they left the tent, Ivar studied the girl closely. He guessed they were about the same age, but it was hard to tell. And there was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”, Ubbe asked kindly.
“Yes”, she looked up at him with light green eyes. Ubbe poured some ale in a cup and placed it in front of her along with some dried meat and bread. She eagerly bit into it. Hvitserk began to ask something but Björn held his hand up, signaling that they should let her eat first. When she was done, she looked up at the brothers again.
“Thank you”, she said quietly.
“What is your name?”, Björn asked.
“Ylva”
“Ylva? That sounds very familiar”, Ivar said. She smiled at him.
“I’m surprised you remember it, we were so young when my family left Kattegatt.” The Ragnarssons looked confused at this exchange, and then Sigurd lit up.
“You used to play with us. Your parents helped with providing food for our familys’ feasts.” Ylva nodded quickly.
“Yes, you took turns pulling Ivar in his cart and I chased after. We would toss balls to each other…”, her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.
“and then we left for Wessex.”
“What happened?”, Ivar asked softly. This pushed her over the edge and she started sobbing.
“Their soldiers came to the settlement. They attacked us. I hid under a cart, watching as they killed my family and my friends. I waited for a while before trying to escape. But they saw me. I would’ve died there and then, butchered like the rest of our people. But prince Aethelwulf stopped it.” She paused and tried to wipe the tears away, anger growing in her eyes and competing with the sadness. 

The brothers waited in grim silence for her to continue.
“He wanted a keepsake, something to show off to his father. King Ecbert realized that I might come in handy in the future. So he decided to keep me as a sort of glorified prisoner until that day. And then a few years ago, he angered king Aelle. To smooth things over and make sure that he would support Ecbert, he gave me to Aelle as a gift. He assumed that Aelle would enjoy having a pagan that he could take out his anger on. He was right.” Her hands trembled and she dug her nails deep into the fur to steady them. Ivar had closed his eyes and looked like he was making an effort not to scream out his anger. Sigurd cleared his throat.
“Did he force himself on you?”
“Not him. He’d hit me sometimes, the king didn’t really want to dirty his hands. He preferred to watch and listen, order others to hurt me. He would sometimes let his men have me as a reward.”
“Did you try to escape?” She stared right past them, remembering.

“Once. I had been there for a few weeks. A storm had raged for a few days and once it had passed the window in my room was a bit loose. So I climbed out at night. They caught me, and then they made sure that I couldn’t run away again.” Her tone had changed drastically, from sad and broken to bitter. The room was dead silent. Ylva grabbed on to the cloak that was covering even her feet.

“First they moved me to a room without windows. Then they did this.” She opened the cloak. Under it she was wearing a simple tunic, her legs were pale and skinny. Ivar let out a hiss when he realized what she meant. In the place where her knees should’ve been, there were only two deformed lumps.
“They broke my knees”

Chapter 3: The first promise

Upon seeing the deformities Björn had left the tent to find Floki and Helga. Soon all three of them walked in, followed by a young girl with dark curly hair. Helga immediately sat down next to Ylva and took her hands. She introduced herself while smiling reassuringly. The young girl sat down at Ylvas’ other side.
“This is our adoptive daughter, Tanaruz. We’re going to prepare a bath for you. Can you walk?” she asked while carefully squeezing Ylva’s hands.
“Not very well and not on my own.”
“We will help you. Right, Floki?” Floki nodded in agreement. 
“Of course” Björn and Floki began preparing the bath while Helga and Tanaruz disappeared again. Ylva still sat at the table. Ubbe poured some more ale and placed the mug in her hands.
“Does it hurt?” Hvitserk asked curiously. Ivar glared at Hvitserk.
“Of course it hurts, you idiot. Did someone drop you on your head when you were a child?” he snapped. Hvitserk blushed and clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed at the aggressive remark. Sigurd let out a sigh. Ivar turned to Sigurd, staring him down like a predator about to strike. A few seconds passed in intense silence before Sigurd averted his eyes. Ivar picked up his mug, smirking confidently at Ylva before bringing it to his lips.

Tanaruz came back first, carrying a bundle of clothes in her arms. She placed them on the table without saying a word and returned to her seat. Ylva noticed that Tanaruz kept as far away from the brothers as possible, always keeping enough distance so that none of them could reach her. A few minutes later, Helga walked in with a small basket filled with different herbs and plants. She immediately began preparing an ointment, all the while making sure that her daughter saw what she was doing.
“This will help against the pain. I’ll prepare something to help you sleep…”
"I don’t want to sleep” Ylva interrupted. Helga stopped in her motions. Björn and Floki tried to act like they weren’t listening, but it was obvious that they had heard.
“When I sleep, I dream. I feel their hands on me again, their knives. My knees break all over again as they bring down their tools on them” Helga bit her lip hard, trying to figure out how to respond to this.                                              

“Then we will start with the bath and then the ointment for your knees, yes? And if you change your mind I’ll bring you the sleeping draught.” Just then Björn called out that the water was ready.                                                        

“Then leave us. Tanaruz and I will help her. Floki, can you find somewhere for her to rest?” Floki walked up to the table, inspecting Helga’s work by poking his finger into the mixture and feeling the texture.                                                  

“Well, we could make place for you in our tent, Ylva, if you wish. That way we are always near if you need more medicine for your knees and my girls can keep an eye on you”. Ylva bowed her head in gratitude.                                    

“Thank you. You and your wife are very kind.” He smiled at her, a sad smile as if he wished he could do more. 

Björn walked over to the entrance and waited for the others to follow him out.                                                                                                                                              

“Let’s give them some privacy.” The men rose from the table and walked outside. Ivar crawled past Ylva, pausing to look up at her before exiting. There was rage in his eyes, so powerful that she almost flinched. Then the moment was over and he was once again making his way towards the entrance. Björn looked over at the small group of women.      

“Helga, come find us when you’re done.” He turned and left the tent.

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Ylva struggled to stay still as Helga carefully rubbed the ointment on her aching knees. Tanaruz stood behind the chair, trying to brush the knots out of Ylvas’ wet hair. Helga kept her head down so that Ylva wouldn’t see the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. After the men had left she and Tanaruz had helped Ylva to the bath that stood in the back of the tent. When they removed her clothes Tanaruz had gasped in shock. Her back was covered in scars of different shapes and sizes. Several of them vaguely resembled crosses, but it was hard to tell since they were partially covered by lash marks. Her thighs and neck covered in bruises. A thin scar that snaked around her throat could only mean someone had once tried to strangle her. There was a small swelling on her collarbone, meaning it had probably been broken at some point. Similar swellings could be found on several of her ribs. The back of her left leg was also marked with scars, from right above the ankle all the way up to the fold of the knee. But these looked different, more organized. Small lines, appearing in groups of four with a fifth line crossing them diagonally. Tally marks. Helga tried to avoid thinking about what this meant but she had her suspicions.                                                    

“There, now we’re done. Would you like to rest for a while? I have to go find Björn but Tanaruz can stay in the tent with you if you’d like company.”                

“I’m not going to sleep”                                                                                        

“You don’t have to. But it’s been a long day and it’s still not over. If nothing else, it might be nice with a break from all the staring eyes.” Ylva reluctantly agreed. Helga went to find Floki and he carried Ylva to their tent. 

As they passed through the camp, everyone seemed to stop and stare at the odd little group. Most of them had probably already heard that her family had been part of the Wessex settlement; rumours travel fast.  When they finally reached the tent, he placed her on a small bed. Tanaruz stood at the other side of the bed, anxiously looking at Helga as she left the tent with Floki.          

“Where did you come from?” Ylva asked, in an attempt to distract and calm the girl. She didn’t respond, just picked up the hairbrush and sat down next to Ylva. Tanaruz began brushing Ylvas hair again and shaping it into a long braid. Her imprisoners had never been particularly bothered with making sure her hair was well-kept, and it had grown long during her time as King Aelle’s plaything. After Tanaruz was done, she moved so that she faced Ylva, and finally spoke up:                        

“Björn. He raided my home. Helga saved me.” Her accent was heavy and she seemed to carefully think of each word.                                                                                      

"She is very kind, I’m sure she takes good care of you”                                      

“She is. Not all of them are.” And with that, Tanaruz closed up again.

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Helga had just finished telling the men about what she had seen.                    

“We should bring her with us tonight.” Ivar said. Ubbe grimaced.                    

“Don’t you think she’s had enough of violence and of that man? Why would she ever want to be near him again?”                                                                      

“Because,” his eyes lit up with excitement “if she comes with us tonight she will hear him scream and beg for mercy. She will watch as sharp blades sink into his back, life slowly leaving him. Don’t you think that she’s dreamt of that all these years?” This made Floki giggle.                                                              

“It is true, she’d probably enjoy that. Don’t you think so, Helga?” he asked, taking her hand. Helga shifted uncomfortably in her seat.                                

”It might make it easier for her to sleep, knowing that justice has been done. But you should let her decide.”                                                                          

“I will ask her right away” Ivar dropped to the ground and slithered outside. Helga couldn’t stop herself from shuddering as she saw his snakelike movements, she wasn’t sure she liked the way the youngest Ragnarson seemed to take an interest in Ylva. When she realized that she was being watched by her husband she blushed and stood up.              

“I’ll go too, Tanaruz feels uncomfortable around Ivar.” She could feel eyes burning at her neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was time. Ylva sat on the ground, slightly elevated by a rolled up fur. It was late and torches lit up the glade. The snake pit where king Ragnar had died was right in front of her; Ivar had insisted that she sit there so that she see could see better. King Aelle was pushed onto his knees while the crowd taunted him. Floki raised his hammer and Aelle screamed as the nails pierced his hands. Ylva pulled her cloak even tighter around her, watching with wide eyes as Björn began carving into his back. The screams made her heart race and gave her goose bumps. She was so caught up that she didn’t notice Ivar making his way toward her.                                                                            

“Are you enjoying it?” he whispered in her ear. She flinched in shock, her heart beating even faster as she looked at Ivar.                                          

“Yes” she answered after a moment of hesitation. Turning back to the bloody scene in front of her, she could see that Aelle didn’t have much time left.        

“But that will end soon” she sighed. Her heart was already slowing down to its normal pace.                                                                                                        

“Are you not happy that he is dying?” He sounded a bit disappointed.                 

“I am. But he is only one person…” her voice became more intense “Aelle will soon be gone, but what about everyone else? His noble visitors that he would allow to use me, king Ecbert who gave me to him in the first place. They all still live.” At her words, Ivar took a deep breath as if to calm himself. He gently grabbed her chin, making her face him again. His eyes shone with endless joy and mischief.                                                                                                    

“Then I promise you, that they will die.” Before she could answer he let go of her again and slithered away to king Aelle. She saw Ivar propping himself up on his elbows, watching the king take his last breaths. Her heart began to race again.

Chapter 4: Tell me everything

Summary:

Contains flashback to rape/torture scene.

I’m standing on all four, struggling to get back on my feet. The man with the thick beard kicks me in the stomach and I lose my breath, falling forward and landing flat on my stomach. The floor feels unbearably cold against my naked skin. My vision is blurred by tears, but I can hear him laughing and telling his friend to hold me down. Strong hands grab my arms and press them to the floor. The bearded man tries to sit on my legs but I kick and flail as much as humanly possible. His friend releases one of my arms and instead grabs my hair. He yanks my head up from the floor, giving me a vicious grin before slamming it back down. Blood runs down my face but I’m to dizzy to tell where it’s coming from. The bearded man forces his hand between my legs, squeezing at the fresh bruises on my thighs making me cry out in pain.

“Hold still, or I’ll put the knife up your cunt instead.” He sits down on my legs again. Soon I can feel the cold edge on my skin, carving a line right above the ankle. I scream.

 

Ylva woke up with a jolt. Someone had grabbed her shoulders and was shaking her violently. She squirmed frantically, trying to free herself.

“Ylva, stop!” Ylva finally came to, realizing that it was Floki who was holding her. She calmed down, her breathing still ragged. She was still in the glade, surrounded by people staring at her. Ubbe stood a few steps behind Floki; he looked worried. Ivar was sitting on the ground next to him, his eyes curiously studying her.

“It seems you were having some bad dreams. You screamed loud enough to wake everyone up.” She sat up and placed her arms tightly around herself.

“I told you this would happen” she murmured, ashamed that nearly everyone had witnessed her night terrors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Aelle died, some of the crowd had started to drop off and make their way back to the camp. Helga had tried to convince Ylva to come back with her and Tanaruz, but Ylva insisted that they let her stay. Floki said he was going to stay and help the brothers, and that he could keep an eye on Ylva. Helga looked unhappy but she agreed to this arrangement. After Aelle was dead, there had been a great celebration. Ale and wine had flowed, there was music and singing. Björn even held a speech, rallying the people for the next battle to come. He spoke about revenge, about killing all who had a hand in the execution of king Ragnar.

“They will know what we can do, they will see the wrath of the Northmen. We will send each and every one of them to their precious Christian god” he roared. Ylva wasn’t quite sure how the speech continued, because she soon began daydreaming. She imagined that it was Ivar, not Björn, who was speaking. And it wasn’t king Ragnar that they wanted to avenge; it was her. She could see clearly how the young prince rallied his warriors. She smiled at the images floating around in her mind, wishing they were true. She snapped out of it when the crowd began to cheer, signalling that the speech was over. Ubbe sat down next to her and handed her something to drink.

“I apologize for my brother. I imagine it must be hard being here tonight, you don’t have to stay.” Ylva was on the verge of telling Ubbe about how it was actually the opposite, how alive she had felt when she heard Aelle scream. She realized this was a bad idea. So instead she bit her tongue and said

“You have nothing to apologize for. He asked me and I said yes.” Ubbe silently studied Ivar. He had lifted himself up onto a stub a bit to the left of Aelle; or rather what was left of him.

“I love my brother. But you should be careful around him” Ylva stiffened. She took a few seconds to collect herself before smiling politely at Ubbe.

“Thank you for the advice. Now, if you’d excuse me I’d like to find somewhere else to sit. It’s getting a bit crowded here and I really need to rest my back.” Ubbe quickly rose to his feet.

“Of course, I’ll carry you.”

“No, it’s all right. I need to practice. If you could just help me stand.” Ylva picked up the make-shift crutches that Floki had made for her. Ubbe grabbed her under the arms and lifted her carefully so that she stood upright.

"Thank you.” She slowly began making her way to the back of the glade. At first she thought she was going to have to push her way out of there, she even expected that someone might get annoyed and push her. But as soon as she reached the front of the crowd it parted. The talk and noise continued but she felt as if it had temporarily weakened. The masses closed again behind her and she continued making her way to the forest line.

She slumped down in front of the first tree she came to. Ylva examined the red marks in her palms. The crutches hurt, but they were better than nothing and she’d get used to them sooner or later. She stifled a yawn. Ylva tried to make herself comfortable, resting her back against the trunk. She had lost sight of the Ragnarssons but Floki seemed to stay within viewing distance. Probably so he can keep track of me, Ylva thought. He was the only one that hadn’t shown concern about Ivar talking to her. Ubbe had made his position very clear just now. The rest of the brothers looked troubled when Ivar announced that Ylva was coming with them, and when he insisted that she sit right at the snake pit. Helga didn’t say anything outright, but Ylva wasn’t blind; she could see how upset Helga was when Ylva agreed to witness the execution and then again when she said she wanted to spend the night there. They don’t understand. They never will. She sat there quietly, watching the feast. She sometimes caught glimpses of Ivar. He and Floki were discussing something. At times, the discussion appeared to be quite heated but then they would suddenly break out in laughter. It didn’t take long before she was lost in another daydream. She was so caught up that she didn’t notice how her body was slowly sliding down the trunk and that her eyelids grew heavier by the second. Before long she was sleeping on the ground. Soon, darker dreams took over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come” Ivar reached out his hand to Ylva. Floki had given her some breakfast and now everyone was preparing to head back to the camp. Ivar had already climbed into his chariot. Out of the corner of her eye she could see how Ubbe paused what he was doing to listen. Ylva stepped closer, taking Ivar’s hand and allowing him to help her climb up. She could almost hear how Ubbe’s teeth slammed together in frustration.

“Floki, I am taking her back to the camp.” He didn’t even care about turning to Floki when he said this; instead he let his eyes sweep over his brothers, making it clear that the statement was really for them. Sigurd scoffed and walked away. Ylva put her crutches on the floor. The chariot was a bit too small to fit both her and Ivar comfortably but she managed to sit down and stretch out her legs.

“Ready?” She bit her lip nervously and nodded. And then they were moving, rushing through the forest along the narrow path. Ylva saw the glade grow smaller and smaller behind them.

“Not getting along with your family?” She asked after a few minutes of silence, trying to sound indifferent.

"How very observant of you. Tell me, how many of them have told you to stay away from me?”

“So far, only one.” A smirk spread over his face.

“And you ignored him?”

“Obviously.” He turned to look at her, eyes glowing.

“I am very glad you did.” They were beginning to slow down. Ylva looked around, confused.

“This isn’t the camp.”

“No. There’s something we need to do first.” The chariot came to a halt.

“Do you need help getting out?” Ylva suddenly felt ice cold. Why were they stopping in the middle of nowhere to get out of the chariot? Had Ivar just pretended that he wanted to help her so that he could get her alone? He seemed to understand what she was thinking because he leaned down towards her, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you without everyone else eavesdropping.” He sat up straight again “And sitting like this can’t be comfortable for you so I thought we could sit on the grass instead.” Ylva’s face turned red.

“I apologize.” Ivar waved his hand as if to say it was nothing.

“Come on, climb down now.” A few minutes later they were both sitting on the ground. Ylva had never felt as clumsy as when she watched Ivar move from his seat to the ground.

“You’ll learn.” He promised when he noticed her looking. He laid down next to her, eyes closed.

“What is it that you want to talk about?” Ylva asked.

“I made you a promise yesterday. Since you came with me today, I’m assuming that you’re interested.” He opened an eye, waiting for her to answer. She could feel her palms getting sweaty and the goose bumps were coming back.

“Yes.” Ivar sat up so suddenly that she almost jumped out of her skin. He grabbed her hands and looked at her with fire in his eyes.

“Then you have to tell me everything you know about these men. What do they look like, what are their names, titles? Tell me: who are they?”

Chapter 5: Knife

They arrived at the camp several hours after everyone else. Helga came towards them, looking absolutely furious. As the chariot started to slow down, Helga noticed how red and puffy Ylva´s eyes looked. As soon as they came to a halt, she went to the back and began helping Ylva out. Ylva didn’t actually want help, but she felt guilty for upsetting Helga.

“Are you all right?” Before Ylva could answer, Helga snapped at Ivar

“What were you thinking? She can’t sit like this for hours. Can’t you see she’s in pain?” Ivar rolled his eyes at her.

“How stupid do you think I am? She hasn’t been sitting in it for hours. We took a break, we’ve spent most of the time resting on the ground.” The small group had started to attract an audience. Sigurd and Hvitserk were slowly moving closer, coming up behind Helga. Ylva was standing next to the chariot, holding on to her crutches. Floki stepped forward, placing himself between Helga and Ivar. He put his arm around his wife.

“They’re back now and they both seem fine to me.”

“Fine?! She’s in tears!” Ylva saw the predatory features darken Ivar’s face again, the same look he’d given Sigurd earlier now aimed at Helga. Only this time it was far more intense.

“You don’t know why she’s crying. You don’t understand.” Ivar growled. A shiver went down Ylva’s spine at his words. Floki’s grip around his wife’s shoulders tightened.

“You must be hungry. Why don’t we go find something to eat, Ylva? And I think it’s time to give you some more salve for your knees.” He began to walk away, pulling Helga with him. Ylva started to follow them, but Ivar reached out and touched her arm.

“We’ll talk again soon. Get some rest and take care of your knees.” He spoke quietly so that only she would hear, placing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He slowly retracted his hand and she began to move again, walking away from everyone’s staring eyes.

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Tanaruz crept further and further into the corner of the tent as Helga stomped around.

“What did he do to you?” She demanded as she picked up the small bowl containing the salve.

“He didn’t touch me. We just talked.” Helga didn’t seem to believe this. And strictly speaking, it wasn’t true. Ivar had touched Ylva, but never in a harmful way. He held her hands while she was talking and then again briefly while helping her into the chariot. Helga sat down in front of Ylva, gesturing for her to pull up her dress. She began to rub the greyish ointment on the swollen lumps and a distinct smell started spreading throughout the tent. It was strong, but not unpleasant. As the pain slowly faded, Ylva felt even guiltier for her actions that day. Helga was doing all that she could to help her; in return she ran straight to Ivar, fully aware that Helga didn’t like him. She wasn’t about to let go of her chance at revenge though. No, she had to find a way to make them tolerate each other. If they just could realize that both of them were helping Ylva in their own way.

“You know, I was a bit afraid at first that he was going to hurt me. When we stopped in the middle of nowhere, I panicked. But he soothed me, and then we talked. We rested our legs. He hasn’t done anything to harm me, I swear. We talked about the men that hurt me and that is why I cried.” Helga rose to her feet, a sad smile on her lips.

“That is good.” She put away the bowl and wiped her hands on a rag. She turned to Tanaruz, stroking her hair apologetically.

“But you don’t know what might happen in the future. What he might do to you or turn you into.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was evening and Ylva was sitting in the main tent again. Shortly after Helga’s ill-boding comment, Hvitserk came by. He invited them to have supper with his siblings and some of the other leaders. Ylva was sitting between Floki and Ivar. Helga declined as she didn’t want to leave Tanaruz alone. Ivar asked if the crutches hurt her hands, and she showed him the red marks they had left in her palms. He ran his index finger along one of the marks, while reassuring her that her skin would get tougher. King Harald Finehair and his brother Halfdan had also been invited, along with some of the earls. Sigurd sat at the other side of the table, across from Floki. His eyes looked strange. Ylva had seen him staring when Ivar touched her hand. She suspected that he’d had a few drinks too many. Still, the mood was far less tense than she expected. It appeared as if the celebration from yesterday was still lingering in everyone’s minds and keeping their spirits high. She leaned back in her chair, enjoying the warmth and the flickering lights of the candles.

Ivar excused himself early, saying that there was something he needed to do. He smiled mischievously at Ylva and patted Floki on the shoulder before leaving. As the evening went on, Ylva discussed how to improve the crutches, praised Helga for making the ointment, and answered all questions aimed at her as politely as she could. Ubbe seemed relieved that she was there and participating instead of isolating herself. Time flew by and the effects of the drinking were starting to show on almost everyone at the table. King Harald started questioning Ylva. He spoke slowly and stumbled on some of the words.

“I hear that you are a childhood friend of the Ragnarssons.”

“Yes, she used to play with us while her parents were making business with ours.” Sigurd answered while gesturing wildly with his mug, spilling some on the table. Harald laughed, amused by Sigurds exaggerated body language.

“Yes, mostly with Ivar and Sigurd since they are closest to me in age. I imagine that the older ones thought we were annoying little children.” Ylva looked over at Ubbe, trying too smooth over their discussion from last night. He smirked.

“Well, you were.” Everyone at the table laughed at Ubbe’s remark.

“Some of us are still annoying” Sigurd added in as the laughter died down. Ubbe tensed, wary of where Sigurd was going with this. Björn raised his cup as if to toast, attempting to make eye contact with his half-brother.

“How brave of you to admit that about yourself, Sigurd.” The tension had gone from non-existent to palpable within a minute.

“You have been spending a lot of time with Ivar, haven’t you Ylva? Wouldn’t you agree that he is annoying?” She held on to her cup tightly, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

“Sigurd…” Björn said in a warning tone. This didn’t seem to faze him at all.

“He’s quite aggressive too you know, short tempered. Likes fiddling with his knife. Has he shown it to you yet? Maybe even put it to your skin?” Floki looked as if he was ready to leap across the table. Ubbe reached out and grabbed Sigurd’s arm. Sigurd pulled away, once again directing his attention at Ylva. She felt sick to her stomach, as if the food and drink were coming back up.

“Maybe that’s what you two were doing today. All those hours you were talking, he was really fucking you with his knife right?’” He licked his lips while eying her. “Most women wouldn’t like that, but I don’t blame you. You’ve been taken that way by so many of Aelle’s men that it’s the only way you can come.” Ylva felt as if all air had been sucked out of her. It was dead silent for a split second. Then Floki began a long tirade of curse words. Björn stood up, pushing his chair back, and started walking towards Sigurd. Ylva pushed herself to her feet, using the table as support. She acted quickly, before Björn could reach Sigurd. Picking up her cup, she threw it at Sigurd, hitting his head and spilling the drink all over him. He cursed under his breath, rubbing his eyes. Ylva hurriedly grabbed her crutches while trying to push her chair back, almost falling in the process. She could feel a hand on her shoulder but she shook it off and continued walking.

As Ylva closed in on the tent she shared with Helga and Floki, she heard someone call out her name. It was Ivar. He had been sitting outside his tent and now he came crawling towards her. The smile on his face faded when she didn’t stop and wait for him to catch up.

“What happened?” He called out, moving even faster.

“Leave me alone!” Ylva yelled at the top of her lungs, as she disappeared into the tent. Ivar froze in the middle of his movement, dumbfounded by what had just happened. He turned and looked in the direction of the main tent, a spark of anger growing inside him.

 

Chapter 6: Lightheaded

Four days had passed since Sigurd’s outburst. Ylva had stayed as far away as possible from all the Ragnarssons, avoiding them like her life depended on it. Whenever one of them came by to talk to Floki or Helga, Ylva simply looked the other way or pretended she couldn’t see them. She ate, slept and practiced using her crutches. She learned how to make the ointment herself, and Helga eagerly taught her how to create other remedies. On the night it had happened, Floki came into the tent saying that Ivar was sitting outside and that he wanted to talk to Ylva. She refused to let him in. He hadn’t tried contacting her again, but she sometimes saw him around the camp. He would watch her in silence. There was something wild about his look, the predatory features she had seen flashes of earlier appeared to be growing stronger. She could’ve sworn his blue eyes burned away parts of her skin.

On the fourth night after Sigurd’s outburst, Ylva attempted to replicate a new remedy created by Floki. She handed it over to her teachers for inspection. Floki sniffed at it. Helga held the small flask close to a candle, carefully inspecting its content. Finally, she nodded approvingly.

“This will do.” In the last two days, a handful of the people in the camp had come down with high fever. The Ragnarssons insisted that all who fell sick would receive treatment immediately, so that the disease wouldn’t spread and immobilize the army.  Helga, Floki and Ylva worked tirelessly to find working treatments.

“We’ll take this and distribute it among the sick ones. You girls should go to bed, it’s been a long day.” Ylva agreed, she longed to rest her aching body. She had spent the last few days moving around on her crutches, looking for plants that they could use. And then in the evenings she joined Helga in helping the sick. The red marks in her hands had grown into blisters and every part of her body felt sore. It was hard work, but it kept her from thinking about Ivar. The girls crawled into their beds. Tanaruz fell asleep almost instantly. Ylva tossed and turned, still afraid of falling asleep and facing her nightmares. She often woke up at night, Helga or Floki standing over her. Her screams robbed them of their sleep and she could see dark circles growing under their eyes. Floki had carved runes into small pieces of painted wood and given them to her. They were supposed to protect her and chase away nightmares, but so far they hadn’t done their job. Ylva clutched the runes tightly in her hand and tried to stay still so she wouldn’t disturb Tanaruz.

She was nearly asleep when she heard something and sat up. Something moved at the tent’s opening. Ylva’s eyes darted to the small knife she used when collecting plants. She picked it up and laid down on the bed again, her back to the opening. She hid the knife in her hand and pretended to sleep. She could hear the noise more clearly now, someone was coming inside. It couldn’t be Floki or Helga, they knew better than to startle her and would always announce themselves before entering. Ylva’s heart hammered against her chest. Tanaruz was still asleep. The person was inside the tent now. She could hear him breathing as he closed in on her bed. She could hear him sit down on the ground. As he leaned in towards her, Ylva turned rapidly, aiming the knife at where she guessed his face was. A strong hand closed around her wrist, stopping her from doing any harm. It was Ivar.

“Trying to kill me, are you?” He whispered. He let go of her wrist and she lowered her arm again. Ylva was shaking.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed through gritted teeth.

“I want to talk to you. Outside, so we don’t wake the girl. I don’t feel like explaining to Helga why her little girl is panicking.”

“Talking? According to your brother you just want to fuck me, because I’m the only one who’s broken enough to let you do whatever you want to me. I’m just like that slave, right?” Ylva regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. She had heard rumours about Ivar and an unfortunate encounter with a slave girl. Judging by his reaction, there was some truth to the rumours: her words clearly hit a nerve. Ivar flinched, speechless for a second. She almost reached out to touch his cheek and apologize. Then his jaw tightened and he pushed himself up, his face only an inch away from hers.

“If you choose to believe what Sigurd says, then fine. Be that stupid. But if you actually want to do something more than sit around poking at flowers all day, I suggest you come outside with me.” He growled. Ylva took a deep breath. Her cheeks turned red as she met his gaze.

“I’ll come.”

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They found a place at the outskirt of the camp. Everyone in the area had retreated to their tents and so they were completely alone. Ylva was exhausted. She fell onto the ground, panting heavily. Ivar slithered up next to her.

“Here” He handed her a waterskin. She took a big gulp of water, barely noticing that it ran down her chin. She handed the waterskin back to Ivar.

“Thank you.” Most of the fires around them had died out and she couldn’t see him properly in the dark.

“I heard what Sigurd said to you. I should’ve stayed.” Ylva shook her head.

“That wouldn’t have made any difference. If anything, he would’ve been even more provoked.” Ivar bared his teeth.

“I can think of one big difference; my knife lodged in his eye.” Ylva knew that she should find this statement disturbing, who in their right mind spoke so lightly about killing a family member? Instead she took it as a good sign that Ivar would actually keep his promise. She leaned back, resting her head on the temporary fence surrounding the camp. The pain hadn’t abated at all, it actually felt worse.

“Where did you go that night?” She asked. He moved a bit closer to her, his entire face lighting up.

“I talked to someone who had valuable information. A wanderer.” Ylva furrowed her brow.

“A wanderer?”

“Yes. He happened upon our camp that morning.” Ivar moved even closer as he spoke “He has travelled around England and he has met some of the men that hurt you.” He paused and lifted his hand to touch one of her braids. His legs lightly brushed against hers as he leaned in against her. A warm feeling spread throughout Ylva’s body. She didn’t dare to move, so she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked so relaxed, she’d never seen him like this before.

“I want to cut your hair.”

“What?” Her eyes widened.

“Your hair. It must’ve been long since you cut it.” He undid the braid he was holding on to, and moved on to the next one. She stopped him. Helga had already tried to convince Ylva to let her cut the unkempt hair but she refused.

“I like my hair long.” She said, staring at her feet.

“I’m not going to make you bald. Why are you so protective of your hair?”

“I’m not protective, I just like it long.” She repeated, but her voice trembled. He cupped her chin, making her look at him.

“No, that’s not it. I think you keep it this way because you feel like you don’t deserve better, like you’re broken and filthy and should look the part.” He picked up where he left off, undoing the rest of her braids. When he was done, he pulled a pair of shears out of his pocket.

“Show me that you trust me. After all, I let your comment about the slave girl slip, did I not?” He whispered, his lips so close that she could feel them brush against her ear.  She took a deep breath and made up her mind. With every muscle in her body aching, she turned her back to him and swept all hair backwards.

“Do it.”

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 It was long after midnight before they returned. As they made their way back to the tent, they ran into Floki and Ubbe.

“Where have you been, hm? Helga is worried sick.” Floki chided them.

“I wanted to talk to her, Floki, without waking up Tanaruz.”

“We didn’t mean to be gone so long.” Ylva added in. Floki noticed her new haircut, thinking to himself that Helga wasn’t going to like this. He sighed.

“Come on now, let’s get back to the tent. Ubbe, could you please go find Helga and tell her that we found them?” Ubbe hurried away. When Ivar motioned to follow Ylva and Floki, Floki raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think you are quick enough to get out of there before Helga comes back? If not, I suggest you go back to your own tent now.” Ivar started to protest, but Ylva interrupted.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He reluctantly accepted and left them. A few minutes later, Ylva stood next to her bed again. As she tried to lie down, she suddenly felt lightheaded. She dropped to her knees, letting out a whimper as they hit the ground. Floki rushed to her side.

“What happened?” She waved her hand in a dismissing gesture.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” He grabbed her under her arms, and lifted her carefully on to the bed. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. A few hours later, Ylva woke up. Her body felt strange, like it was on fire but still she shivered.  She could see Helga’s blurred face floating above her. The lips moved but she didn’t understand the words. The fever had taken hold of her.

Chapter 7: Listen

“You let her work with the sick ones?” Ivar hissed. Helga bristled.

“You’re the one that dragged her out in the middle of the night, making her walk through half the camp. We didn’t think she’d get infected. It didn’t seem to spread, and the men said themselves that they thought it was because of bad water.” They had gathered right outside the tent, speaking in low voices so as not to disturb the ones who were resting inside. After they realized that the fever had spread to Ylva, they moved her to the tent where the rest of the patients were already contained. Björn wandered back and forth.

“Are you sure it’s not contagious?” He asked Floki.

“We don’t know. No one else has fallen sick, but that could just mean that it takes time for it to show. It is also possible that Ylva has been struck by something else, she is still weak from her imprisonment.” Björn hesitated.

“Then keep them isolated for now. Let’s wait and see if they start feeling better.”

“And what if more people start showing symptoms?” Björn’s face darkened.

“Then we’re in trouble.” He walked away. A strained silence fell over the small group. Ivar still looked absolutely furious, putting the blame for Ylva’s condition on Helga and Floki.

“I’m going to see how she’s doing.” Helga murmured and stepped inside the tent, away from Ivar’s aggressive glare. The tent was much larger than hers, meaning that at least the sick ones didn’t need to be packed in together. It also made it easier for the healers to work, as they could actually move around properly without stumbling over someone’s limbs. Helga remembered when the plague came to Kattegatt, many years ago. All who fell victim to the disease were brought inside. The floors were covered with the sick and dying, the air thick with their cries of pain and terror. It didn’t seem to matter what the healers did, nor did any sacrifice appease the gods. Eventually the disease passed, leaving behind a heap of corpses, including king Ragnar’s daughter. As Helga studied the patients, she was relieved to see that for most of them the fever had gone down. Some of them even sat up, talking to each other and jesting with her as she examined them. When she came to Ylva, her heart sank again. The girl was awake, but she seemed distant. If her skin had been pale before, it now looked transparent. The small mouth was slightly open, letting out whimpers of discomfort past the cracked lips. The chopped of hair fell down to her shoulders, strands of it stuck to her sweaty face. Her green eyes were glazed over and they struggled to meet Helga’s. Helga tried to calm herself by repeating that Ylva had only been sick for a few hours, of course she wasn’t as far along in the healing process as the others. She just needed some more time, in two or three days she too would sit up and jest with the healers. Helga stayed by her side for most of the day, soothing Ylva when the fever started giving her hallucinations. She’d been afraid of this, that the fever would only increase the nightmares and make them haunt the girl even when she was awake. Helga prayed that the young girl in front of her wouldn’t meet the same end as her own daughter.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva had spent that day and the following night in the tent. But early in the morning, even before the sunrise, Hvitserk came stumbling into Helga and Floki’s tent and woke them up.

“You better come quickly, there’s trouble.” They hurried after him.
They could hear angry voices inside. Helga ran the last few feet. When she entered, she almost fell over Ylva. The girl lied on the ground just inside the entrance as if she’d been chased or pushed there. The other patients were raging. Helga threw herself to her knees and grabbed on to Ylva, shielding her from the others.

“How are we supposed to rest and get better when she’s keeping us awake all night with her screaming?!” One of them yelled at Ubbe, who was standing in the middle of the tent. He held his hands out towards the man as if to calm him down.

“She’s sick, just like all of you. We need to keep you isolated so that it won’t spread.” He tried to speak with authority, but he was clearly shaken. He probably wished that Björn was there, but he had gone out hunting. Floki heard a shuffling noise behind him. Ivar moved past them and didn’t stop until he was side by side with Ubbe.

“What is the meaning of this?” He snarled at the men. A dark haired man stepped forward, challenging Ivar.

“Your little play thing is disturbing us. At this rate, she’ll be the death of us before any fever.” Ubbe inhaled sharply, realizing that this wouldn’t end well. Without blinking, Ivar pulled his knife and drove it into the foot of the dark haired man. He let out a loud screech. Ivar twisted the blade, making the man squirm in pain. His fellow rioters took a step back, looking utterly horrified. Ylva tried to turn and see what was happening behind her, but Helga continued to shield her from it.

“Watch your tongue, or I’ll cut it out and watch it for you.” Ivar yanked the knife back out. The man sank to the ground, trying to cover the wound in his foot.

“We’ll leave her alone, I promise.” Another man stuttered. Floki let out a cold laugh.

“Oh, we’re not leaving her here with you. Not after this.” He bent down, scooping Ylva into his arms. He strode out of the tent closely followed by his wife.

“I don’t think they’re bringing you any more medicine.” Ivar said matter-oft-factly while wiping the blood from his knife. He exited and shortly caught up with the small troupe.

“How is she?” He asked. Helga bit her lip.

“She’s very ill. And as you probably understand from what just happened, her nightmares are getting worse.” It was windy outside and Ylva shivered in Floki’s arms.

“Bring her to my tent.” Ivar said suddenly. Floki let out a small noise, Ivar couldn’t tell if he was amused or upset. Helga narrowed her eyes at the prince.

“Why?”

“Because she’ll be more comfortable there. She’ll have more room there, I can keep her warm. And both you and Tanaruz can sleep in peace.”

“No. I’m taking care of her. Besides, she might infect you.” She picked up her pace, trying to lose Ivar. He sped up too.

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t enjoy watching me get sick. You left her with the other patients. My tent is closer to yours than that shithole.” She turned to yell at him that she only left Ylva there because Björn had ordered it. But before she could speak, Ylva chimed in.

“I want to go.” Floki, who had kept out of the discussion, halted. For a moment they had all forgotten that Ylva was conscious and, albeit very tired, heard everything they said. A smug look spread across Ivar’s face. Helga gently stroked Ylva’s cheek.

“You are too tired to make any decisions, child. Let us put you to bed.” Ylva grimaced, her breathing was heavy as she spoke again.
“Please don’t talk down to me. I appreciate everything you do for me, but you need to rest too. You have Tanaruz to take care of. Take me to Ivar.” The words came out slowly and she closed her eyes as soon as she’d finished the sentence.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s staying in her own bed.” Helga warned as she readied a bed for Ylva. She made a point of putting it as far away as possible from Ivar’s bed. He simply rolled his eyes at her. Floki put Ylva down and covered her with the blankets.

“We’ll come check on you later.” He promised. Helga reluctantly followed her husband outside. As they exited, a puff of wind came inside. The weather was getting colder. Ivar waited a few moments, making sure that Helga hadn’t changed her mind and returned. Then he slithered over to Ylva and lifted himself up to the foot of the bed.

“It’s getting colder.” He announced while unlacing his boots. He lifted the blankets and laid down next to her.

“What are you doing?” She mumbled.

“You need warmth, but you’re not allowed to leave your bed. I however can sleep wherever I want.” She gave up a small noise that vaguely resembled a laugh. He placed an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

“And you said we were going to talk more today, how are we supposed to do that if I have to stay all the way over there? You’re mumbling, I wouldn’t hear a word you said.”

“I’m too tired to talk.” Her voice trailed off.

“Then just listen.” He told her what the wanderer had said during their meeting, about the men, their homes and what manner of protection they had.

“One of them lives not far from here.” Ivar finished. She was almost asleep.

“Mm.”

“Would you like to go there, with me? When you’re feeling better.”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to watch me kill him?” She moved slightly and whispered something that he couldn’t hear. Ivar leaned in.

“What?” She reached up, almost pressing her lips to his ear.

“I want to do it.” He beamed at her, and kissed her forehead.

“Good girl.”

Chapter 8: Death throes

Summary:

WARNING: TORTURE SCENE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

While Ylva slept, Ivar thought of how to convince his brothers to let him bring part of the army to attack Ælfric. He was a thegn loyal to king Ælle; he was also the man that had put a thin rope around Ylva’s neck and nearly strangled her to death. When they talked after Ælle’s execution, Ivar had asked her if Ælfric had done it as a punishment for her resisting. She said that no, he did it because he liked it.

Ivar doubted that his dear siblings would just let him leave, especially if they realized that he was taking Ylva with him. No, they would follow and convince the warriors to turn back. He had to find people that were loyal to him and a good excuse for attacking Ælfric. He hoped that Floki would take his side. He trusted his mentor, not only when it came to his fighting skills and his connection with the gods: Floki was the only one he would allow to take care of Ylva. He supposed that Helga could take care of her too, but she would also work to take her away from him. Anger bubbled up within him at the thought of it and he grabbed Ylva even tighter. She winced in her sleep and Ivar immediately loosened his grip on her again. Other than this, her sleeping seemed unusually peaceful. She had whimpered a few times but only for a couple of seconds. He looked at her: the small mouth, the high cheekbones and the freckles that dotted her face. There were more on the left cheek than on the right, he noted. His heart sped up as he thought about what she had whispered earlier: I want to do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is the problem? If we attack Ælfric we will have more horses, more food and treasure.” Ivar pressed on. When Ylva woke up and complained about the pain in her knees, he had asked Floki to come and help her with the ointment so that he could present his plan to attack Ælfric.

“All those are good things, but it’s not worth the loss of men.” Björn responded while rubbing his eyes. He was already tired from the hunt, and the constant exposure to his half-brother’s rebellious nature didn’t help.

“We wouldn’t lose anyone, Aelfric sent almost all of his men to aid Ælle. I also have a rough sketch of the buildings so I know where to move. He can’t beat us.”

“And how did you come upon this information?” Sigurd asked. Ivar smirked.

“Because I did what none of you bothered with, I talked to the wanderer.”

“Fine, we’ll put it to a vote.” Björn said with a sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Floki and Ylva were walking through a long corridor. Shouts and clashing of swords could be heard outside, but the fight would never make it this far. What Ivar had said to his brothers two days ago had turned out to be correct, Ælfric had sent most of his men to join Ælle’s forces. Floki held one hand on his sword, ready to draw it if someone came at them, and in the other he held a torch. The sun was slowly setting and the house was dark. Even with the aid of the torch Ylva sometimes stumbled. Floki clicked his tongue as they hurried past a large tapestry depicting saints.

“We’re almost there, but we don’t have much time.” They passed several doors, most of them had been left open in the chaos. Thegn Ælfric had not seen it coming, probably thinking he was too insignificant for the great heathen army to bother with him. Floki finally stopped in front of a big door at the end of the corridor. Unlike the others it was closed and she heard muffled noises coming from behind it. He gently nudged her towards the door.

“He’s waiting for you. I’ll stand guard.” He sounded nervous. Ylva got the feeling that he wasn’t completely comfortable with what was happening. She realized that by agreeing to help Ivar and her, he would anger the rest of the Ragnarssons and his wife. A sudden wave of gratefulness swept over her. She reached out and took the hand that rested on his sword.

“Thank you. I’ll never forget this.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Go.” Ylva pushed the door open and stepped inside. She found herself in a big bedroom, a dozen small candles placed around the room. There was a small hearth at the right side of the room. The fire had died out, but the embers still glowed and the floor felt warm under her feet. In front of it stood a chair and a small table. There was something lying on the table that she couldn’t quite see. Another, much smaller, tapestry hung over the headboard. Ylva never registered what it was showing, instead her eyes locked onto the two men on the bed. Ivar was sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting for her. A pair of feet stuck out to next to him, seemingly tied together.

”Don’t be afraid, I’ll help you.” Ivar said. She slowly moved closer. The man on the bed had been stripped naked and both his hands and feet were tied together. He lied on his stomach, a rag pushed into his mouth. As Ylva stopped next to his head, she could see drops of sweat run down his face and the copper hair stuck to his cheeks. She noticed that the grey areas in his hair had spread since the last time they met. Ivar followed her every movement with a hungry look in his eyes. Without looking away from Ælfric she said

“Help me turn him over.” Ivar did as she asked. Ælfric struggled wildly and tried to cry for help as they rolled him onto his back. Ylva’s eyes darkened. She grabbed onto his hair and yanked his head towards her.

“No one is coming to help you. You’re alone now, like I was.” She let go of him again and moved around the bed until she stood next to Ivar. He kissed her knuckles and gestured at the small table that stood in front of the hearth.

“What would you like to start with?” She looked over at the table and finally saw what it was. Different tools. A hammer, nails, a small saw, shears. And lastly, a piece of rope. Ylva picked up the rope and studied it closely.

“No knife?” She asked.

“You can use mine.” Ylva brought the rope and the hammer with her back. Her breathing was ragged.

“Hold him down.” Ivar moved so that he was level with the man’s head. He grabbed Ælfric’s arms and kept him from squirming. Ylva discarded her crutches and climbed onto the bed. She straddled Ælfric, ignoring that her knees felt like they were on fire. The hammer swayed ominously in her hand.

“What are you going to do to him?” Ylva grabbed the rag and pulled it out of his mouth. Ælfric begged for his life but Ylva ignored his desperate pleas.

“I’m going to break his collarbone.” She raised the hammer high above her head and Ivar gasped at the image in front of him. Her tormenter screamed in pain as the hammer hit its target, drowning out the sound of bone being shattered. Ivar now looked completely like a predator. The sobs and screams continued and he had to raise his voice for Ylva to hear him.

“And now?” He growled at her while wetting his lips.

“The rope.”

“Turn him on his stomach first, that will make it easier.” They moved him again and she sat on Ælfric’s lower back. Ivar handed her the rope and watched as she placed it around her tormentor’s neck. Ylva tested her grip on the rope. Ælfric only became more frantic.

“Do you want me to shut him up?”

“No.” Ylva began pulling at the rope, tightening its grip. Her pupils dilated, making her eyes look black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s gone!” Ubbe stood in Ivar’s tent, watching as Helga tore out the beds frantically looking for Ylva.

“You’re not going to find her in here. She must’ve gone with him.” Right before Floki and Ivar left with the small raiding party, they had stopped by to say that Ylva was asleep and didn’t want to be disturbed. Floki suggested that Helga wait a few hours, then bring her some food and help tend to her legs. She agreed that it was best to let Ylva rest, now that the fever was gone and her sleep was slightly more peaceful. But the girl was nowhere to be found. Helga felt tears sting in her eyes, she couldn’t believe that Floki had betrayed her like this. She loved and cared for both Tanaruz and Ylva like they were her own children, and now her husband may well have put one of them in mortal danger. The rest of the Ragnarssons stepped inside and she turned to face them.

“You have to bring her back. Please.”

“I’ll go.” Ubbe said quickly. He didn’t approve of everything that his brother did, but judging by the look on Björn’s face Ivar might not make it out of this alive if Björn were the one to go after him. Hvitserk stepped forward.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Hurry” Helga whispered and sat down at Ylva’s bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fight was long over. The raiders were occupied with looking for loot when two horses came galloping out of the woods. They came to a halt just in front of the raiders and the riders jumped to the ground.

“Where is Ivar?” Ubbe asked the shieldmaiden standing closest to him.

“He’s somewhere inside the house. I believe he went looking for Ælfric, I think Floki is in there too.” Hvitserk cursed and together they sprinted towards the house. They slammed the door open and made their way through a large entrance hall. Soon, the way split in two. Hvitserk turned to the left and Ubbe to the right. Hvitserk found himself in a long corridor. As he passed a large tapestry, he heard noises coming from behind a door at the end of the corridor. A lanky shadow stepped out of one of the smaller rooms. Floki.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He warned Hvitserk.

“Do you really think you could get away with killing me?” Floki shook his head.

“I’m not going to hurt you. But I will have to warn Ivar that you’re here.” He took a few steps towards the door and tapped it three times. “We’ve got company.”

“Let me pass.” Hvitserk insisted, but Floki didn’t move. So he pushed him out of the way and stepped in front of the door. He shivered, afraid of what he might be about to see. He reached for the door and pushed it open. The smell of blood came rushing out. He took a few steps inside. Hvitserk froze, not quite able to register what he saw. When it clicked, he felt his stomach turn and he stumbled back into the corridor, vomiting on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ælfric didn’t have much time left. His screams had turn into whimpers as he was drained of life. Ylva carved another mark into his back.

“This mark is much better than the first ones, my hands must be getting steadier.” She mumbled. Ivar shook his head.

“Your hands were always steady, but he’s not fighting back as much now.” He had let go of Ælfric and moved so that he was lying next to him, one hand on Ylva’s back and the other supporting his chin so that he could see what she was doing. Ivar tensed.

“I hear voices outside. You need to finish this.” Soon after, three taps sounded through the room.

“Here, put the knife here and push it as far down as you can. He won’t be able to breathe and his mouth will fill with blood.” Just as she sunk the blade into Ælfric, the door opened and someone walked in. But she didn’t notice. Blood streamed out of the wound, spilling onto her already blood covered hands. A red spot spread under his body and she could feel his death throes. Before long, he was still. Someone retched over by the door. Ylva let go of the knife and pulled Ivar closer, melting her lips with his, smearing his face and hair with blood.

Notes:

Regarding the title "thegn", I'm not sure if I'm using it correct. I found some contradictory information about it and since it was almost five in the morning I didn't have the energy to dig deeper. But what I mean by it, is that he is a noble of somewhat high status that is loyal to a king, in this case Ælle. This means that he would send lots of soliders and different resources to aid the king.

Chapter 9: Loyal

It was late in the evening when the raiding party returned to the camp. Ubbe and Hvitserk rode in first, one on each side of Ivar’s chariot. After them came a wagon, loaded with treasure and food. Ylva sat at the back end of the wagon, wrapped in a cloak. When Ubbe and Hvitserk had left the camp earlier people began to worry that something had gone terribly wrong with the attack on Ælfric. Björn had kept to himself, refusing to discuss it with anyone. As the word spread that they were back, the leaders gathered in front of the main tent. Ubbe and Hvitserk dismounted their horses and walked towards king Harald and the others. Ivar stopped and waited for Ylva to climb out of the wagon.

“What happened for you to leave in such a hurry?” Harald asked.

“We were looking for the girl, she wasn’t in her bed as we thought. Our brother brought her with him to Ælfric.” Just then, Ylva stopped next to Ivar’s chariot. Harald saw the blood on her face and clothes.

“I didn’t take you for a fighter, girl.” He called out. Ylva stuck up her chin and looked directly at the king as she spoke.

“I’m not a shieldmaiden, but I have always been a fighter. Otherwise I would’ve died long ago.” Harald seemed both surprised and impressed by her statement. After a moment of silence, he nodded.

“I suppose that is true.” Ivar snaked his arm around her shoulders, flashing a smile with his bloody lips.

“Today was her first lesson using weapons, and I am pleased to say that she did very well.” This lead to whisperings among the leaders. They stared at the blood covered couple, pointed at them, mumbling to each other about what they thought had happened.

“And what exactly did you teach her?” Björn snarled. He had been standing behind the others, right at the opening of the main tent, but now he made his way to the front closely followed by Sigurd.

“I showed her some different tools and weapons. I must say, she’s a natural with the knife.” Björn walked right past Ubbe and Hvitserk. He didn’t stop until he was face to face with Ylva.

“Come, I want to speak with you.” Ivar chuckled at his older brother, but Björn ignored him and reached his hand out to Ylva. She took a step back.

“You can talk to me here.” Björn sighed and rubbed his face with one hand.

“No, you’ll have to come with me. This is not something that you want to discuss out in the open, I am doing you and Ivar a kindness.” Ylva bristled.

“I am going with Ivar, because he is the one who is doing me a kindness.” Björn had grown tired of her unwillingness. He grabbed on to her shoulder and tried pulling her further away from the chariot, thinking that he might at least be able to say a few words to her. Ylva’s face changed, Björn could’ve sworn it was something familiar about the way she looked in that moment. He didn’t get to finish the thought. Ylva raised her right crutch.

“Let go of me!” She yelled, while swinging it at him. She hit his calf and he let go of her, making her fall backwards. The earls and kings looked on in shock. Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd all rushed to their side. Ivar climbed out and sat down next to Ylva on the ground, he cupped her face in his hands.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“No.” Sigurd crouched down in front of Ylva.

“Let me help you up.”

“Don’t.” Ivar hissed. Sigurd backed away again and watched as Ylva used the chariot to pull herself to her feet. Ivar handed her the crutches.

“Ylva, I am so sorry…”

“What did I just tell you?” Ivar interrupted.

“No, let him speak.” Ylva said. She calmly watched Sigurd.

“I am sorry for what I said, that is no way to speak to a woman.  I know it’s not much of an excuse but I had far too much to drink that night.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I believe you when you say that you are sorry, but I am not ready to forgive you.” She looked over Sigurd’s shoulder and locked eyes with Björn before continuing. “And there is no point in trying to steer me away from Ivar, for I am loyal to him.” She walked away. Ivar had never felt so triumphant in his whole life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How could you do this, Floki? What were you thinking?” Helga sat on their bed.

“I did it out of love for Ragnar.” He muttered while washing the blood of his hands.

“What?”

“I took care of Ivar, I taught him about the gods and about the Viking way. Ragnar asked me to look after his family, and that is what I am doing. Ivar needs me more than the others do.” Helga rose to her feet.

“So you choose him over me?” Floki sighed, finally looking up from the small bowl of water.

“May I remind you, that is was you that convinced me into accepting Aslaug’s offer, hm? I didn’t even want to let her inside, but you insisted.”

“And that gives you the right to hand Ylva over to him?”

“It is what she wants. She has already told you this, more than once. But you, you are so convinced that your way is the right way, the only way, that you don’t listen. She got revenge today, Helga.”

“At what cost?! He’s mad and he’s going to use her as a plaything.” Floki flung the bowl across the tent. Helga recoiled. He stood up and grabbed her wrist.

“You don’t know anything about him, or what he does for her. You haven’t seen them together. Why are you not mad at Sigurd, hm? You know what he said to Ylva, but that you don’t seem to care about.” Helga was shaking, thinking how relieved she was that she had sent Tanaruz outside to get more water. The poor girl shouldn’t have to see this. She averted her eyes.

“Sigurd was drunk and upset, he didn’t mean any of it. He would’ve apologized sooner, and a thousand times over, if Ivar didn’t watch over her like a wolf watching a lamb.” Floki let go of her wrist. She rubbed it carefully.

“Ylva has made up her mind. I suggest you don’t stand in their way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar hummed to himself while rinsing Ylva’s hair. The water in the tub was tinted red and the bloody dress lied discarded on the ground. Ylva scrubbed her arms and face clean. He let his hands slide down her neck, stopping to rest them on her shoulders.

“You did well today.” After she had cleaned up and dried herself, she pulled on a simple tunic. Meanwhile, Ivar undressed and sat down in the tub. He filled his hands with water and began rubbing his face.

“Let me help you.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Ylva sitting on the ground behind him. She picked up the jug that he had used to rinse her hair and copied his movements. Ivar leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Who is next?” She asked.

“You talked about two men that always showed up together; Cenric and Cynebald, correct?”

“Yes, they are brothers.” She ran a comb through his matted hair and he let out a sigh of content.

“Focus.” She said, playfully yanking at his hair. He grinned to himself.

“We will pass them on our way to Wessex. They could be sending most of their soldiers to Ecbert, which makes them an easy target just like Ælfric. We could take the same raiding party as today and attack them. And if they are keeping their men to themselves, even my brothers should realize that it is wise to take them out before moving forward and getting ourselves trapped between two armies.” Ylva finished up cleaning his hair and handed him a towel. They curled up in bed together, facing each other. Ivar brushed away her hair, noticing a small spot of blood still under her chin. He tilted her head backwards and circled the mark with his thumb.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? Are you loyal to me?”

“Yes.”

 “Then I’m going to teach you how to use a weapon. A bow maybe, or an axe. Whichever you prefer.”

“I’d like that.” She whispered, her cheeks turning red due to his touch.

“It will make you feel powerful.” He smiled and lowered his mouth onto the mark, eagerly sucking at it. A warm feeling spread throughout Ylva’s body. Before she could stop herself, she let out a small moan. Ivar brought her chin down again so that their eyes met.

“Focus.” He said with barely contained laughter.

Notes:

I am a firm beliver in the words of detective Charles Boyle (Brooklyn nine nine): washing your lover's hair is one of the most romantic/erotic things you can do.

Chapter 10: I want you

The army was on the move again. The Vikings had broken up the camp early in the morning and were slowly making their way to Wessex. Sigurd looked over his shoulder at Ivar. The youngest prince had fallen behind. He held his chariot at a slower pace to match that of a small wagon. Ylva was sitting in it, slightly leaning out so that she could talk to Ivar without raising her voice for all to hear.

“Something troubling you?” Ubbe asked.

“Look at the way she’s fawning over him. I don’t understand her.”

“To be fair, you don’t understand any woman.” Ubbe said with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

“I know women better than he does. And unlike him, I can bed them.” Ubbe decided not to bring up what he had seen yesterday night when he went to tell Ivar that it was time to move on king Ecbert. Instead he cleared his throat and said:  

“Sigurd, you humiliated her in front of some of the most important leaders in our people’s history so far. What did you expect, that she would throw herself at you?”

“It’s not like that, I don’t want her. But I don’t like the idea of Ivar having an ally that he can mold into whatever he wants. It is bad news for us, and for her. That poor girl doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.” Their discussion had caught Hvitserk’s attention.

“She does now. You didn’t see them with Ælfric, Sigurd, but I did. Ylva saw what he is capable of and she didn’t run, she joined in. She’s not going to leave him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva felt the weight of the axe in her hand. The army had paused briefly to allow some of them to scout ahead, and decide whether or not they should move forward right away. Ivar had dragged her along to a small clearing and told her to sit down on the ground.

“Is it too heavy?”

“Maybe a little.”

“That’s good, training with it will make you stronger.” He held up his own axe.

“You need to work on your grip. Hold it like this.” He showed the way his fingers gripped around the shaft. She studied his hand for a moment, brushing her fingers against it, and then copied it.

“Good. Now I’m going to move away to the side, and I want you to throw the axe as close as you can to that.” He pointed to the remains of a dead tree that stood about 15 feet away.

“That’s too far away, I’m not going to make it.” Ylva complained. She dropped the axe and threw herself backwards onto the grass. She wasn’t sure this was the best time to have this lesson, considering how unstable she felt at the moment. Ivar pinched her arm.

“Of course you’re not going to hit it today, that’s why I said as close as you can.” Ylva pulled her arm back.

“And what if the axe slips out of my hand and I hit you?” Ivar rolled his eyes at her.

“That’s why I’m moving away first. Gods, woman, stop questioning me and listen instead.” He pulled her up to sitting position again and handed her the axe. After he had placed a safe distance between Ylva and himself, he signalled for her to begin. She fidgeted a bit, thinking about last night, and adjusted her grip. Her first attempt went about as well as she expected. The axe felt even heavier as she pulled it back and it slipped out of her hand, landing behind her on the ground. She cursed under her breath.

“Again” Ivar said. Ylva picked it up and did as he said. This time she didn’t drop it, but she was nowhere near hitting its mark. Ivar kept pushing her, before long it felt as if she’d thrown it a hundred times. Eventually she tipped backwards onto the ground again, her entire upper body aching from the exhaustion of sitting upright and throwing.

“No more, please.” Ylva panted. Ivar laid down next to her and placed his hand on her cheek.

“This was a good start. It would be easier if we had something to help you sit better and rest your back, but we have to make do. And this will strengthen your body.”

“If I don’t die first.” She muttered. He chuckled at her response.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” It was a warm day and the sunlight made Ylva’s freckles stand out even clearer. Ivar ran his fingers through her hair. Ylva blinked rapidly and tried to keep herself from shivering at his touch. She had to ask him.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Her words were barely audible. He stopped and looked at her. At first he seemed confused but after a few seconds he understood. He had tried not to think about it.

“Is this about last night?” Ylva nodded and tried to look the other way so he wouldn’t see the conflicting emotions in her face. Ivar had continued sucking at her skin, working his way to the small swelling on her collarbone. She had made encouraging noises and wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself closer to him. One of his hands had wandered down to her waist and the other to the nape of her neck. Ylva had felt almost shocked at the wetness that was appearing between her legs as he gently massaged the back of her neck. The hand at her waist had grabbed on to her tunic and started pulling it up. But in doing so, Ivar had also moved his other hand and his nails scraped against the scar Ælfric had left. It had only stung for a second but it was enough to make Ylva remember him and his damned rope. She had dug her nails into Ivar’s back, which he only took as encouragement, and repeated over and over in her head that Ælfric was dead. It didn’t help. By the time Ivar had pulled up her tunic and started stroking his fingers over her inner thigh the voice in her head was screaming at the top of its lungs. Just then Ubbe had entered. He had looked stunned at first when he noticed their intimate embracement, and then his cheeks and ears started turning red with embarrassment. Ylva had never been so happy to see him. Ivar had let go of her and grunted something at his brother. She had used the opportunity to pull her tunic back down and turn her back to Ivar. After Ubbe had left, Ivar lied down again and snaked his arm around her, trying to pull her closer. Ylva had stopped him, saying that they should sleep so that they could get up in the morning. She had felt him tense, not sure how to react, and then retract his arm.

 

Now Ivar rolled onto his back.

“I’m not angry. I just don’t understand what happened, I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I did, but…”

“Is it because of the rumour you heard, did you suddenly remember it and changed your mind?” There was a coldness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before.

“Don’t, please. You know I never meant to bring up the slave girl. I was angry.” Ivar pursed his lips.

“Then what is it?” Ylva didn’t answer. Ivar scoffed angrily.

“I thought you cared for me, but maybe you’re just stringing me along until I’ve helped you kill these men.” He started crawling out of the clearing.

“You hurt me.” He paused and furrowed his brow at her.

“How did I hurt you? I was careful.” He muttered, not quite believing what she said.

“You scraped my scar. It hurt. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about Ælfric.” Ylva rolled over on her stomach and hid her face in the grass. She could hear Ivar coming closer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was kinder now.

“Because I thought I could fight it off, but it didn’t work. And I didn’t want to hurt your feelings after everything you’ve done for me, or make you think that I cared about the rumours.” Her words came out in a quick stream and were muffled by the grass.

“Aha. And how did that work out for you?” She tentatively raised her head from the ground and looked at him.

“Not very well.” He plucked away the grass that had stuck in her hair.

“So if Ubbe hadn’t walked in on us, what would you have done? Just allowed me to continue?”

“Maybe. I was hoping that you would notice something was wrong and stop.”

“You need to work on your assertiveness.” He pointed out. Ylva relaxed now that he sounded like himself again.

“I hit Björn yesterday, and there were a lot of people there that saw me do it.” This made Ivar smile.

“Not with my brothers, that you don’t seem to have problem with. But with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It is time we leave.” Björn announced. He was standing in the main tent, fastening his sword. A part of the army was going to strike at Cenric and Cynebald. The brothers had started sending their men to king Ecbert, but once the news of king Ælle’s defeat had reached them they changed their mind. The young thegns wanted to keep their soldiers close, in case the heathen army decided to bring their army across their part of Mercia. They did not seem to understand that by keeping their men they were also putting a target at their backs. Not to mention the fact that king Ecbert would be furious at them for breaking their oath of fealty to him. This time, Ivar had insisted that Ylva stay at the camp with Helga. Ylva had objected at first, saying that she wanted to come with him; how else was she supposed to get to Cenric and Cynebald. He only shook his head, saying that this was a much larger undertaking than the previous one and he couldn’t guarantee her safety. Helga seemed satisfied with this. When Floki came to say goodbye to his wife, Ivar pulled Ylva to the side and whispered something in her ear. Then he quickly let go of her and crawled away to his chariot. Floki ended his somewhat strained hug with Helga and embraced Ylva. She told him to be careful and to look after Ivar for her. After the warriors had left, she reached out her hand to Helga who was sitting opposite to her, trying to coax Tanaruz into eating.

“Is everything all right between you and Floki?” Helga fidgeted in her chair.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

“I never meant for you two to fight. Please, forgive me.” Ylva begged while squeezing her former caregiver’s hand. Helga tried to smile at her but it ended up looking more like a grimace.

“It is Floki who has done this us. My husband doesn’t always make the wisest choices.”

“But he did what Ivar and I asked him too.” Helga gave up on her attempts to make Tanaruz eat and focused all her attention on Ylva instead.

“I love Floki. You don’t have make excuses for him, he chose to do what you wanted. He has always felt very loyal to Ivar, so I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. But you, I don’t understand why you chose the way you did.” Ylva began to speak, hoping that she could explain why. But Helga interrupted her.

“Floki has already told me about your motivations. I don’t see how doing this will help you.” Ylva pulled her hand back, saddened by Helga’s unwillingness to respect her choices. She stood up and left the tent, making her way back to her bed. She thought it might be wise to rest before it was time to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hurry up!” Ivar hissed at the bald warrior. He was attempting to tie two men to the back of the chariot.

“There, that should do it.” The bald man wiped away the sweat that was running down his forehead.

“Good. Now move.”

“Where are you taking them?” Ubbe appeared around the corner. Ivar swept with his hand over the two men that were just starting to wake up after having been knocked unconscious.

“They are a gift.” Ubbe moved closer.

“Don’t you think we should get a say in what happens to them?” Ivar ran a hand through his hair as if to calm himself.

“They are of no use to us. We have defeated them.”

“What if they have information about king Ecbert?” Ubbe pressed on.

“They broke their oath, so I highly doubt that they have stayed in touch with him. They were cowering in here like small children.” Ivar leaned forward “Let me bring them to her, or I will take the men that are loyal to me and separate them from the army.” Ubbe looked skeptical.

“You can’t take out Ecbert with that small an army.” Ivar’s eyes bored into Ubbe’s.

“I’ll find a way.” When Ubbe didn’t respond, Ivar simply turned around his chariot and took off. Cenric and Cynebald soon began screaming in pain. Ubbe cursed at himself for letting Ivar off the hook again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva spent most of the day in bed, resting her muscles that still felt sore from yesterday’s axe-throwing. Late in the afternoon, she made her way to the furthest end of the camp. It was here that most of the warriors resided, meaning that it was almost empty at the moment. Since they weren’t staying for long, the fences were sparser and far less robust. She sat down and waited. After maybe half an hour, she could see Floki approaching. There was blood on his clothes, and Ylva could see a cut on one of his arms.

“You’re hurt.”

“It is only a small cut. Come now, child.” With some support from Floki she made her way to the other side of the fence. He helped her sit up on the waiting horse. He sat behind her and took the reins in his hand. As they moved towards the meeting point, Ylva saw a glimpse of the clearing where she had practiced yesterday. She wondered if Björn would send someone to take her away from Ivar and keep them apart after today. Had last night been her last one with him? The thought made her feel cold and numb, so she decided to push it away. Floki didn’t speak during the entire time. He stopped at the side of the uneven road and helped Ylva get back down. He gestured for her to follow and started walking slightly to the left, away from the road. At first she wondered why they couldn’t have kept going on the horse, but then he started leading her around a small but steep hill. There was something on top of it, from a distance it looked like a gathering of oversized bushes. She struggled to keep up and Floki had to stop and wait for her several times. She could hear a horse neighing and picked up her pace, when she came to the back of the hill she could see Ivar. He sat on the ground next to the chariot, lazily poking at two men that seemed to be tied to it.

“Floki, a little help please?” He grinned. Floki huffed.

“Curse you, cripple, why did you have to pick a hill?”

“You don’t expect us to perform this little ceremony in the middle of the road, do you?” Ivar asked innocently. He untied the ropes holding Cenric and Cynebald to the chariot. Floki bent down and picked up Cynebald.

“Thank the gods that they aren’t as well fed as king Ælle.” Floki muttered while half-carrying, half-dragging the nobleman up the hill. When they had all made it to the top, Ylva realized that what she had seen earlier was a small hut. It was mostly overgrown and the door had fallen off its hinges. Floki dragged the men inside, ignoring their muffled pleas. When he came back outside, Ylva placed a light kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.” Floki smiled at her and then crouched down next to Ivar, who patted him on the shoulder.

“Hurry back to the camp now, boatbuilder, I don’t want you peeping at our alone time.“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cenric twitched one last time before life left his body. Ylva sat behind him with his head resting in her lap. One hand held on to his hair and in the other she held his sawed off cock. In his dying moments, she had held it up for him to look at. The drips of blood falling from it had landed in his thick beard. Cynebald was already dead in a corner, his body covered in sloppy tally marks just like his brother and his face beaten to a bloody pulp. Ylva lowered her arm and let go of Cenric.

Ivar had started out sitting at the back wall, but as the torture had progressed he had found it more and more difficult to sit still. He had ended up moving back and forth like a caged up animal. He had spit at Cynebald’s body, he had slapped Cenric across the face and he had caressed Ylva’s back as she put the different tools to use. Now he moved up next to her, licking his lips. Ylva’s breathing was still heavy from exhaustion. He picked up his waterskin and poured some of the content onto a rag. Ylva turned to face him and he began scrubbing away the blood from her face. He had the same lustful look in his eyes as when he had sucked at her skin and made her moan. The thought struck her again that someone might actually try to separate them. It made her feel hollow inside. Ylva dropped Cenric’s cock on the floor and threw her arms around Ivar. His shock lasted only for a second. He dropped the rag and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her onto his lap. Their lips crashed together and she placed a hand on his neck to press him even closer. She bit at his lower lip, making him let out a small groan and she used the opportunity to slip her tongue inside his mouth. When they broke apart for air Ivar looked at her with wide eyes. He stroked her back absentmindedly.

“I see you listened when I talked about assertiveness.” Ylva didn’t answer him, instead she moved so that she straddled him. She ran her hands through his hair and leaned in so that their brows touched.

“I want you.” She murmured. Ivar let out a hiss and started carefully tugging at her clothes.

“Aren’t you going to panic again?” He asked with his face buried in her shoulder, checking to make sure that she’d actually let him undress her.

“I don’t know, maybe. But I want to try with you. Now.” She whispered, her hands still in his hair. Ivar had no intention of rejecting her. He lowered his mouth onto her throat again, just as he had done two nights ago.

Notes:

And in the next chapter, we get to the good stuff.

Chapter 11: Never

Notes:

Explicit sex scene in this chapter.

Ylva moaned his name as Ivar worked his way over her throat and shoulders. He pulled eagerly at the neckline of her shirt to expose more skin. He let his free hand slide along her thigh, soon arriving at the lacing of her pants. Before he could unlace them she slipped off his lap. The prince growled in disappointment.

“Sit against the wall.” She ordered. Ivar did as she said and moved backwards until he hit the short-side, never moving his gaze away from her. Ylva followed him closely and straddled him again, guiding his hand back to the lacing. While he worked at undoing her pants she slipped her blood covered hands under his shirt and let her fingers trail up his sides. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of content as she felt his broad chest. She started grinding herself on his lap, almost as if in a trance. It sent waves of pleasure through her body and earned a loud moan from Ivar. Her pants were borrowed and far too big for her, so once Ivar had unlaced them it was an easy task to yank them down from her hips. He placed a rough hand on her right buttock, lightly squeezing it.

“Gods, your ass is perfect. Do you know how hard it was to control myself when I saw you get out of the bath?  When you covered yourself I wanted to rip away the towel and fuck you right then and there.” Ylva gasped at his words, feeling a wetness forming between her legs. He snickered at her reaction and bit down on her shoulder. She tugged impatiently at his shirt.

“Take it off.” He let go of her and helped her lift it over his head, throwing it in the pile of armour that he had discarded while Ylva tended to Cenric and Cynebald. Ylva leaned in against his skin, smeared with the now dried blood, taking in how warm he felt. But something seemed off. She sat up again and slid her hands over the front of his pants. He was still almost completely soft. The confidence fell from his face. Ylva bit her lip.

“Those rumours, they aren’t completely false.” Ivar said quietly, looking away from her. “But I hoped it would be different this time.” His eyes teared up.

“Look at me.” She begged. He reluctantly turned to face her again. She started unlacing his pants, leaning in to let her teeth graze against his ear.

“Let me take care of you, let me try.” She whispered, pausing between words to nip at his earlobe. He sucked in a sharp breath and nodded.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to try again, but I want to. I want you.” He could feel Ylva smile into his neck.

“We will both do our best, yes?” She reached into his pants and started stroking his cock.

“Yes.” He rasped.

“You try not to give me a panic attack, and I try to give you some confidence back.” She laced her fingers around his member, freed it and let her thumb slowly draw small circles on the tip. Ivar began to seem flustered, his tongue constantly darting back and forth over his lips. It was working. She started moving her hand up and down his length, encouraged by the feeling of him swelling under her fingers. He kept pulling a hand through his hair, the other one resting on her buttocks. So far Ylva had been able to ignore the aching in her knees, focusing instead on the pleasant feeling between her thighs, but it was starting to make itself known again. She couldn’t stop now, though, not when Ivar was starting to regain some of his confident look.

“See? I can help you feel good.” She purred. He tightened his grip on her buttocks and thrust his hips up to meet her movements, his face shone with reverence.

“I…I don’t…” He stuttered.

“What is it?”

“I want you to take your shirt off but I don’t want you to stop touching me.” He blurted out.

“Oh.” She began to let go of him.

“No!” His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He looked wild with his hair all messy. “Keep going.” Ylva did as he asked, slightly increasing the speed of her movements. Ivar’s hands trembled as he took hold of the neckline of her shirt and locked eyes with her.

“Don’t jump and rip my cock off.” He ripped her shirt open, revealing her breasts. The sudden coldness made her shiver. Ivar snaked an arm around her waist, bringing the other to brush against her nipples. He cupped her left breast and growled something that sounded vaguely like perfect. He started alternating between squeezing it gently, then loosening his grip and letting his thumb circle her nipple. Ylva sighed, her eyes closed, and for a moment she lost track of what she was doing. Then Ivar gave up an annoyed grunt.

“I said keep going.” Her eyes flew open and she picked up where she’d left off. She was pleased to notice that her work had paid off, it would soon be firm enough to stand on its own.

“You’re almost ready.” She exclaimed and pressed her lips to his forehead. Ivar placed sloppy kisses over her breasts and moved his hand down her belly and inside her pants. He rubbed his fingers over her slit, making her curse softly. The pain in her knees was becoming unbearable and she squirmed in discomfort, despite her best efforts to ignore it. Ivar noticed it and quickly retracted his hand.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Gods, no.” She panted. “But my knees, I can’t sit like this.”

“Ah. Then lie down.” He picked her up and sat her down on the floor next to him, using one hand to steady her so she wouldn’t fall over. In the other hand he balled up the fabric of her torn shirt and started pulling it upwards. Ylva lifted her arms and helped him pull it over her head, then she slowly tipped backwards until she could feel the cold floor under her. A memory of another cold floor flashed before her eyes but this time she was prepared, and determined to shut it out. She gave all her attention to the man in front of her instead. Ivar pulled her pants off and threw them on the growing pile of bloodied clothes. He gently pushed her legs apart, making sure not to put any pressure on her knees. Ivar let his eyes sweep over her body.

“You’ve already seen me naked.” Ylva pointed out, trying not to giggle at his apparent excitement.

“Not like this. First you were covered by the tub and once you got out you put on that damned towel.” He murmured while taking off his own pants. Ivar laid down between her legs, kissing his way up the inside of her left leg while kneading her right thigh. Ylva held her breath as his mouth hovered right in front of her sex, she could feel his breath stream at her opening as he spoke.

“This time it’s different. I’m not stealing a glance out of the corner of my eye, you’re on display for me. Waiting for my touch.” Ylva let out her breath, she scraped her fingernails over the floor to stop herself from scooting just a little bit further down and pressing her sex to his face.

“Yes, I am. So touch me.” Ivar leaned in the last inch and placed a kiss on her outer lips, letting his mouth linger there to suck at them. Ylva’s legs twitched and she squealed.  He slipped his tongue inside her, slowly exploring everything he could reach. A sudden pain made him pull back in surprise. Ylva had grabbed on to his hair and dug her fingernails into his scalp.

“Don’t stop.” She whimpered. Ivar leaned in again, he started nuzzling between the lower parts of her lips with his nose and made his way upwards. When he neared the top he brushed against a small nub and Ylva cried out. Ivar nearly pulled back again, thinking that he had hurt her. But Ylva kept him from moving his head.

“There. Touch me there.” She panted. He tentatively placed his thumb on the small nub and began circling it. Ivar smirked when Ylva began to squirm under him, his confidence growing stronger by the second. He slid his tongue back inside her while his thumb continued working at the small spot. Ylva clawed at his scalp as she felt her muscles start to tense, and the warm feeling between her thighs began to radiate throughout her body. Ivar suspected that she wasn’t going to last much longer, and he quickly pulled out and retracted his hand from the small spot. Ylva began to protest but before she could utter a word he slid two fingers inside her, rapidly moving them in and out. He started flicking his tongue back and forth on the nub, showing that it wasn’t just his crawling that was snakelike. Within seconds he had pushed her over the edge. As Ylva climaxed, she dug the nails of her free hand into his shoulder and arched her back, sounding almost shocked as she cried out his name. She let go of him and slumped down on the floor again, completely out of breath. Ivar laid his head to rest on her stomach. Ylva let her fingers trail his jaw.

“Anyone who says you can’t please a woman is a liar, remember that.” She said after a moment of silence. Ivar chuckled and stroked his hands along her waist.

“Will you fight to defend my honour from those who claim that I can’t?”

“Maybe. If I ever learn how to use that axe.” She nudged at his head, signalling that he needed to move. Ivar lifted himself up on his elbows and Ylva pushed herself up to sitting position.

“Are you cold? Your shirt is a bit ripped, but the pants are…” Ylva interrupted him by pressing her lips to his. When she pulled away again he looked confused.

“I told you I wanted to make you feel good. Will you allow me to do that, my prince…my warrior?” Her eyes glowed. Ivar inched closer to her.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to put yourself in my mouth…” she lifted a finger to her mouth, brushing over her lips “…or between my legs?” She slid the hand down her body and placed it over her sex. Ivar stared at her hand as it moved over her body, his heart starting to race.

“Between your legs. Let me prove that I can be with a woman like a man is supposed to be.” He rasped. Ylva nodded.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” She purred. Ivar moved up against the wall again, leaning his back to it and stretching his legs out. He brushed his hand against his member and was pleased to find that it hadn’t gone completely soft again.

“I need you to come over here and stroke it again, maybe put your mouth to it, until I’m ready.” Ylva sat down at his feet.

“Spread your legs.” He did as she said and Ylva crawled in between them until her face was hovering just a few inches above his cock. She placed one arm over his hip, using it to hold herself up. She tilted her head down and kissed his tip. Ivar shivered.

“Don’t just tease me, woman.” He said through gritted teeth. She copied her earlier motions, drawing small circles with her thumb, pausing from time to time to let her tongue dance over his length. Ivar grabbed on to her hair and pushed her face closer to his cock. Ylva took the hint; she opened her mouth and let him in. She let it rub against the roof of her mouth, making Ivar moan loudly as he swelled inside her. His grip on her hair tightened and he began sliding more of himself into her mouth. Ylva quickly laced her fingers around his base, stopping him from pushing his entire cock in, and shot him a warning look. Ivar seemed disgruntled by this, but when she let her tongue sweep over the area just under the head the pleased look returned to his face and he loosened his grip again. Ylva continued laving at him, simultaneously making small massaging movements at the base. She finally slid him back out and let go of him, wanting to show Ivar that he was firm enough to stand on his own now. He ran his finger along his cock and let out a growl. Watching him like this made the wetness reappear between Ylva’s legs. He reached out and took her hands.

“Come.” Ylva let him help her up so that she was standing on her knees, he almost lifted her from the ground as he tried to keep her from putting too much weight on them. She carefully placed one knee on each side of him, his hands on her waist to keep her from losing balance, and lowered herself onto him. Ivar dug his nails into her skin as he entered her. Once he was fully sheathed inside her, they stopped for a few seconds to breathe and adjust to the new feeling.

“Your knees…”

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle it. Now…” Ylva pressed her forehead to his “…show me that you can fuck as good as any other man.” She had barely finished the sentence before he violently thrust into her. Ylva gasped and clutched onto his shoulders in an attempt to steady herself. Ivar looked beyond pleased with her reaction and he picked up his pace as he continued thrusting, letting one hand wander up her side and take hold of her breast. Ylva rolled her hips to meet his movements, causing him to let out feral noises. He pressed down on her hip, pushing himself even further in. Ylva whimpered and buried her face on his shoulder, clawing at his muscular back. She could feel the familiar warmth starting to radiate through her again. Ivar’s movements grew frantic, he sounded more and more like a wild animal.

“Look at me!” He demanded. Ylva lifted her head and met his gaze. He had the most intense eyes she’d ever seen, she already knew that, but she had never seen them glow like this before.

“Don’t ever leave me.” He could barely get the words out. Ylva’s muscles started to tense again. He squeezed her breast while thrusting deep into her, pushing her over the edge again. She relaxed her entire body and let herself fall forward onto his broad chest.

“Don’t ever leave me.” He repeated while giving his final thrusts. He soon followed her, growling loudly as he spilled his seed inside her. They stayed liked that for several minutes, catching their breath and warming each other. Ylva cupped his face in her hands and locked eyes with him.

“Never.”

 

Chapter 12: I can help you

Ylva struggled with tying her ripped shirt together so that it would offer at least some cover.

“Why do you bother with that? Let them stay free.” Ivar said, and leaned in to place a kiss on her exposed breasts.

“Because it will be cold. And I don’t want the entire camp being able to ogle me.” She shooed him away and resumed her efforts.

“They are perfect, you shouldn’t be ashamed to show them.” He started digging through the pile of clothes, looking for his pants.

“Ivar, do you want me to parade myself naked before your brothers, or any other man for that matter? Would you be truly comfortable with someone else looking at me half-naked?” Ivar grinned at her.

“No. But I would like for them to understand that we fucked.” He found his pants and started pulling them on.

“Ubbe already thinks that, unless he is blind.” She retorted. His jaw tensed.

“Well, Ubbe isn’t the one that I want to shut up.” Ylva paused and looked at him.

“Was it Sigurd that started the rumours?” Ivar nodded.

“And since he wasn’t exactly kind to you either, I was hoping that you would like to provoke him a bit.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled devilishly while lacing his pants. Ylva started to say that Sigurd had apologized, but she quieted down again when she realized that his words still hurt. Yes, he may have been drunk but why did she have to be the target of his rage? She was tired of being the person everyone took out their anger and cruelty on.

“So, what do you say?” Ivar picked up his shirt from the floor.

“I’m not opposed to proving your brother wrong, but I am not riding into camp half-naked. My tits will have gone blue before we’re there.” She finally managed to tie her shirt together. It showed off most of her stomach and had somehow ended up with a rather deep cleavage but at least she wouldn’t be completely bare from the waist up.

“We should have some new clothes made for you.” Ivar remarked. Ylva looked up at him.

“Really?”

“You can’t keep borrowing from everyone else, especially if they’re going to continue being torn.” A wide smile spread over Ylva’s face. For so many years of her life she had only worn tattered tunics that offered only the bare minimum amount of warmth and comfort. Ivar continued.

“You will need clothes for the winter as well, I won’t have you freeze to death. Pants that actually fit you…”

“Can I have a dress too?” Ylva interrupted. Ivar furrowed his brows.

“I suppose so, but pants and a shirt will be more comfortable when we are travelling.”

“I would only use it on special occasions.” She said eagerly and took his hands.

“Where did this sudden obsession with dresses come from?” He sighed. Ylva pecked Ivar on his cheek.

“Am I not your companion?”

“Of course you are.” He rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands.

“And as the companion of a Ragnarsson, shouldn’t I show my status? Don’t you want everyone to know that I am with you?” She pressed on.

“I think you made that clear when you smacked Björn and told him that you are loyal to me in front of half the camp.” Ylva sighed at his incomprehension.

“Ivar, do you remember what you said to me that night when you cut my hair?” His eyes lit up as he finally started to understand where she was going with this.

“Yes, I told you that you let it stay unkempt because you wanted to look the way you felt.”

“Exactly. But I don’t want that anymore. I’ve felt like shit for more than 10 years, now I want to feel good again, and I want to look good.” Ivar pressed her hands to his warm cheek.

“A dress then, for my princess.” They let go of each other and finished putting on their clothes. They had been in the hut for hours, and the sun was long gone. The only light came from a torch that Floki had left for them.

“It will be near dawn before we are back at camp. Do you want to stay here tonight?” Ylva shook her head.

“I want to go back to our tent. I’m sick and tired of sleeping on a cold floor, even if it certainly would be an improvement to have you next to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Björn woke to someone calling at him. He sat up in his bed and saw a young Viking man standing at the tent’s opening.

“Ivar has returned, the girl is with him.”

“Are they in their tent yet?”

“No, but they’re headed there.” Björn stood up and rubbed the drowsiness away from his eyes.

“Thank you, Erik. Now go get some rest.” Erik bowed his head and then hurried away. Björn strode outside, determined that he would have a talk with Ylva this time. It was late, and only a handful of people were still awake. Björn pretended not to notice the people that shouted and raised their cups as he walked past them, thinking that they must be either fools or very tenacious since they were still up drinking when it was almost morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been up this late, aside from Ælle’s execution. Björn continued past the tent where the patients had been isolated during the brief fever outbreak, and in the light from the torches in front of it he finally saw Ivar and Ylva. He clenched his fists and sped up. When he had almost caught up with them he raised his voice.

“Ylva?” They both turned to face him. Ylva looked hesitant, while Ivar looked as if he was ready to pull his knife. Björn took another step towards them, noting her torn and blood covered shirt. What the hell had Ivar done now?

“I would like to speak with you, alone.” Ivar bared his teeth.

“She doesn’t have to go with you.” Ylva reached her hand down to touch his shoulder.

“It is all right, Ivar.” She turned to Björn before continuing “I will come with you, if you promise me that I will be allowed to leave afterwards.” She had suspected that Ivar’s brothers would make another attempt at talking to her, and she only hoped that they wouldn’t resort to violence in order to keep them apart.

“That sounds like a reasonable agreement.” Björn said, confident that she would see to reason and choose to stay. Ylva gave Ivar’s shoulder a reaffirming squeeze.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come to bed soon.” She took hold of the crutch again and walked over to Björn. Ivar stared after them until they were too far away for him to see. He crawled inside the tent and laid down on the bed, fully dressed. He wasn’t going to sleep until Ylva came back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sit.” Björn had pulled out a chair for her in his tent. She sat down and waited for him to speak.

“Here, you must be hungry.” He pushed a platter of bread and cheese across the small table before pouring himself something to drink. She tore off a piece of bread and started moving it back and forth between her hands.

“Ylva, I understand that you feel the need to exact revenge from these men, but you’re headed down a dangerous path.”

“What path?” She avoided looking at him, still playing with the bread.

“You’re letting Ivar take over. We were already going to kill these people, there was no need for him to get involved in this way. I can help you out of this situation.” Ylva let out a cold laugh and finally looked up from her hands.

“You were going to kill Ælfric? No, you weren’t even going to bother with sending a few warriors there to get supplies. You would have let Cenric and Cynebald be too if it wasn’t for them having so many soldiers. Your plan would have given me nothing.” Björn’s eyes flared.

“These little excursions of yours could lead to the army splitting, and we need it to stick together if we are to defeat Ecbert. You are being selfish. Ælle is already dead, Ecbert will soon be dead too. Does it matter that much if a few of these other men live?” Ylva snapped at him.

“Does it matter? You say that you understand but that is a lie. I’m still afraid of what I might see when I close my eyes, and I know that they are alive and could be doing this to someone else. Floki and Ivar have shown me respect...”

“What happened, did Ivar do that?” He gestured at her clothes. Ylva stroked the fabric absentmindedly.

“Yes, he got a bit carried away.” She didn’t see what this had to do with anything.

“Ylva that is not respectful of him. He shouldn’t have done that to you.” His words confused her. Björn paced back and forth, holding on to his cup.

“My brother, he is not shaped like other men and so he gets aggressive when he can’t lie with a woman.” Ylva sucked in a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes at Björn.

“You think he raped me?”

“It must be difficult for you to grasp what relationships should look like, given the unfortunate experiences…”

“Your stupidity knows no bounds, Björn Ironside.” Ylva spat out the words as she rose to her feet. Someone entered the tent. Ylva looked over her shoulder and saw Ubbe at the opening.

“Am I interrupting something?” He looked at Ylva, whose knuckles had gone white from clutching on to the table, and on Björn’s face that was slowly turning red with anger.

“What are you doing here?” Björn grunted.

“I heard that they were back, and I wanted to check up on them. Ivar told me that you had taken Ylva with you.”

“She agreed to talk to me, so now we are.”

“Not anymore.” Ylva growled and picked up her crutches. Ubbe stepped aside so that she would be able to leave.

“I have not given you permission to leave!” The oldest Ragnarsson roared and slammed his fist down on the table. Ubbe stepped forward, ready to stop Björn if he tried to grab Ylva again.

“You promised that I could go after we were done, and I am not going to spend another second talking to you. That means we’re done.” Her face had morphed into the same expression that Björn had gotten a glimpse of when she struck him with her crutch. And now he realised why it felt so familiar; she had the same cold predatory expression that Ivar did when someone uttered an ill-conceived comment about his legs. He almost took a step back due to the unpleasant realisation, but instead he lifted his hand and pointed at her.

“Ivar is manipulating you, making you feel like you owe him something so that he can take you without you fighting back. He wants someone that will stay by his side and never question him.” Björn’s voice grew in volume as he spoke, he was tired of her unwillingness to heed his well-meant advice. Ylva bared her teeth at him and let out a strange noise.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a slave. I am a free woman and Ivar did not take me, I gave myself to him.” She hissed. Ubbe intervened before the discussion could go any further.

“Ylva, I think it is best you go to bed. It is very late and Ivar is waiting for you.” She shot Björn one last look before leaving. After she was gone, Ubbe sat down at the table and helped himself to some of the food.

“Why did you have to interrupt?” Björn snarled.

“Are you saying that if I hadn’t arrived she would’ve agreed to stay away from Ivar?” Ubbe said with a half-hearted chuckle.

“You telling her that Ivar is waiting for her hardly helped.”

“She was on her way out when I came, Björn. I merely tried to stop you two from butting heads again, you could’ve broken her bones if it had gotten out of hand.” Björn placed his hands at the table and leaned in towards his brother.

“Is there something you want to say to me, Ubbe?”

“Yes. You’re doing a shit job of keeping Ylva safe.” Björn scoffed at him and stood up again.

“It is not my fault that she won’t listen to reason.”

“I did not hear your entire conversation so I might not have the whole picture, I’ll admit that. But it sounded like you tried to tell her that Ivar is the one who is going to hurt her and you are going to protect her.” Björn looked at Ubbe like he was an idiot. “Did you ever stop to think that in her mind it’s exactly the opposite? Ivar cared for her when she was sick, he defended her from the men that attacked her, and he listened when she opened up about what she has been through. He’s even teaching her how to defend herself. You on the other hand have yelled at both of them and showed that you are not afraid to resort to physical violence when she protests.”

“So you suggest that we just leave them be? Don’t you remember what he did to your wife? Ylva is going to disappoint him sooner or later, and then she will end up dead.” Ubbe looked furious at the mention of the attempted murder on his wife.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten what he did to Margrethe.” He snapped “But Ivar was sad and in shock. Ylva could make him better. I have had time to think today, and I have spoken with Ivar. It is time we accept that we won’t make life any less shitty for either of them by trying to separate them. Maybe the best we can do is keep an eye on her.” Ubbe swallowed the last piece of bread and got up.

“I am the leader, I decide how we handle this. Don’t forget that, brother.” Björn said as Ubbe motioned to leave.

“That you are. But right now you’re not being a very good one.”

Chapter 13: Striking a deal

Ylva struggled with standing still as the dark haired woman took her measurements.

“Lift your arms.” Hildur said. She could feel Ivar tighten his grip right above her waist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not letting you fall.” He was sitting on the bed behind her, his hands steadying her so that she wouldn’t collapse to the ground when her knees started to shake. Hildur had been very attentive of Ylva’s discomfort and made sure to work quickly.

“There, now we are done.” She said and took a step back, rolling up her measuring tape. Ivar pulled Ylva down onto his lap.

“Thank you, Hildur.” She said, leaning in to Ivar’s embrace. The seamstress smiled.

“The clothes should be ready in a few days, depending on how much help my husband will need.”

“I will pay you extra if you prioritise this.” Ivar said, letting his hand run through Ylva’s hair.

“I will work as quickly as I can, my prince.” Ivar nodded approvingly. He had always felt more kindly disposed towards Hildur than most of the other inhabitants of Kattegatt. He didn’t know her very well, but he often saw her around her husband’s smithy. She struck him as a woman that believed that so long as you tried your hardest to do your share of the workload, you should be accepted. And since Ivar often spent time working in the smithy, she didn’t give him the same pitying, or downright loathing, look that many others did. After she had left, Ivar started rubbing Ylva’s legs.

“Do you need some of the ointment?”

“Yes.” She slipped off his lap so that she sat next to him instead. As Ivar got up to fetch the small jar, she swung her legs onto the bed, wincing as a new wave of pain shot through her. He returned to her side and sat down at her feet, closely observing her actions. Ylva unlaced her pants and lifted her hips slightly so that she could pull them down. A groan of pain escaped her as she moved her legs. Ivar’s pupils blew wide and he let his fingers slide along her leg.

“What is it?” She asked when she felt his touch.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting but…” He eyed her naked skin hungrily “that little groan, the way you moved your hips.” He gave up a frustrated noise and took hold of her pants, pulling them even further down. Ylva’s cheeks flushed red, but the jarring sensation in her knees was too strong to ignore.

“Ivar, the salve.” He pouted and retracted his exploring hand, holding the small jar out for her to take.

“No” She pushed his hand back and gave him a sly smile “you put it on.” Ivar’s face softened for a moment, before being lit up by a mischievous grin. He dipped his fingers into the jar and started carefully rubbing the greyish ointment on her right knee. Ylva closed her eyes and sighed, waiting for the pain to abate. Ivar massaged her leg for a few minutes before moving on and repeating the procedure on her left leg.

“Does it feel better?” He asked, letting his hands wander further up with every kneading movement. She could only let out a soft whimper, egging him on.

“I will take that as a yes. This mixture is really helping you, isn’t it?”

“It’s not just that. It’s your touch” Her words were barely audible, yet they made him double down on his efforts. His rough fingers brushed against the curls between her legs and he let his fingertips stay entangled there for a short moment. He could feel the moistness growing there. Ylva still didn’t move.

“How long are you going to keep me waiting?” Ivar complained. Ylva pushed herself up on her elbows and found his hand with hers.

“You’re a very impatient person. Take off your clothes and come to bed.” Ylva kicked her pants off and pulled her shirt over her head. She then crawled in under the covers and watched as Ivar hurried to get undressed. He was getting so worked up that she thought he might fall from the bed as he tried to yank off the shirt that had caught on his Mjölnir pendant. She tried to stop herself from laughing, but the image in front of her was simply too much: Ivar the Boneless, son of the king and a feared warrior with a reputation for cruelty, clawed at the pendant that had stuck to the fabric while wiggling back and forth, trying to scoot his pants down the last few inches, all the while giving up small grunts of annoyance. When he heard her laughter he looked over his shoulder and shot her a dirty look, making her quiet down.

“I wouldn’t recommend mocking me, especially not in a situation like this.” Ylva wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she heard a coldness slip into his voice again. “Come help me instead.” The strange tone was gone, and he sounded like himself again. Ylva sat up behind him and wrapped her legs around his waist, her sex pressed against his lower back.

“Hold still.” He stopped pulling at the shirt and dropped his hands to stroke over her legs instead, encouraged by the feeling of her wet spot growing and grinding against him. Ylva managed to separate the pendant from the fabric and helped relieve Ivar of the shirt.

“There. Better?” She nipped at his earlobe and moved her hands down to his cock, starting to work it like she had done in the small hut. Once Ivar felt confident that he was ready for her, he let go of her legs.

“Get on your back.” She released her grip on him and moved backwards. She crawled under the covers again, resting her head on the pillow. Ivar’s pants fell to the ground and he turned to her. Ylva lifted the blankets, inviting him to crawl on top of her. He poised himself over her, his breath heavy from the anticipation. Ylva let her hands run through his hair. When Ivar started pressing into her she grabbed on tighter and pulled him in for a kiss, not ending it until she had to gasp at the feeling of him filling her completely. He gave one slow thrust, just enough to make her squirm a bit.

“Tell me what Björn said to you last night.” His voice was low. Ylva seemed confused by his timing.

“I’ve already told you.” She pulled at his hips, trying to make him continue.

“I want to hear it again.” He pressed himself just a little bit harder against her. Ylva let out a moan, trying to gather her thoughts.

“He said that it was dangerous for me to be with you, that I’m heading down a dark path.” Ivar rewarded her answer with another thrust and she dug her nails into his skin.

“What else?”

“He said that he could help me out of this situation…” Ivar grunted angrily and gave another thrust. “…and that you didn’t have to get involved for me to have revenge. He accused you of raping me, or trying to.” Another rewarding move. Ivar cupped her chin, making her lock eyes with him. For a moment she genuinely thought that his stare would burn right through her skull.

“And what did you say to him?”

“I said that his plan wouldn’t have given me anything, I called him stupid. And I told him that I gave myself to you, as a free woman.” Her words set him off and he started moving frantically back and forth. Ylva twitched at the sudden change and pushed back on his hips to soften his thrusts. Ivar didn’t last long, he soon spilled inside her with a loud roar. He pulled out and laid down next to her. Ylva tried to calm her breaths. She was happy that Ivar had enjoyed it, but she had hoped that she too would get to enjoy herself. As if he had read her thoughts, Ivar slipped his hand between her thighs.

“You were such a good girl for telling him off.” He rubbed a finger over her slit, letting his hand get soaked in the remains of wetness and seed. Her body shivered under his movements and she lifted her hips to press herself against his hand. Ivar turned on his side so that he could hover above her while slowly working his fingers inside her.

“What you told him is true. He won’t help you, can’t help you. Only I can do that.” Ylva groaned when he found her clit, she started to squirm. Ivar used his other hand to clamp down on her leg so that he could keep his balance while holding her still.

“Only I can give you what you want. Remember that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar slithered forward alongside Ubbe as they made their way to the main tent. Right before they entered, Ubbe stopped and looked at Ivar.

“I am sorry for the way Björn behaved last night, I know that you are angry with him. But please try not to make it any worse, there are other things we need to discuss right now.”

“He tried to take her from me.”

“Ivar…” Ubbe pleaded.

“Yes, yes. I’ll behave if he behaves.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” Ubbe couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s fierce protectiveness over the young woman. When they entered Ivar saw a strange man sitting at the table. A Saxon.

“Sit, my brothers.” Björn said, gesturing to two empty chairs next to Hvitserk. Ivar studied the Saxon closely. He was clearly nervous. Sweat pearled at his forehead and he kept a careful eye on the knife that Björn was using to carve away pieces of meat.

“He has a message for us, from the kingdom of Wales.”

“And what does the message say?” Hvitserk asked.

“Their ruler, a man called Rhodri, wishes to meet with us. According to him” Björn pointed the knife at the messenger, who started sweating even more “the king has heard of our rampage and wishes to strike a deal with us.”

“What kind of deal?” Hvitserk now spoke directly to the Saxon, his accent thick as he formed the foreign words.

“To be truthful I do not know much of the details. The king wishes to speak with you directly about this.”

“Why should we strike any deals? Our army could easily defeat this Rhodri.” Ivar was growing tired of the uncertainty surrounding this message. The harsh noise made the Saxon jump. He might not be able to understand the words, but it was impossible to misinterpret the tone in which they had been spoken. Ivar snickered at the startled man.

“Ubbe, Sigurd, what do you say?” Sigurd spoke first.

“I think some of us should leave with him, and size up this king.” Ubbe nodded in agreement and added:

“If the offer is good, we will consider it. If it’s shit, we will have gotten a look at Rhodri and can decide what our next move should be.”

“Then let us decide which of us should go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early in the afternoon by the time the small party reached king Rhodri’s seat. Nearly two days ago Ivar, Sigurd and Ubbe had agreed to accompany the messenger back to his ruler. Halfdan had also insisted on joining them, saying that he wanted to see what Wales was like. A handful of warriors had joined, should the party be attacked. When Ivar said that he was bringing Ylva, Björn was on the verge of protesting but a harsh glare from Ubbe silenced him. He had reluctantly thought that there might be some truth to Ubbe’s words about the strange young “couple”, and the accusatory words about his leadership had struck a nerve. So Björn bit his tongue and watched as Ylva climbed into a wagon; Ivar clearly had no intention of leaving her alone with him ever again. As they rode in to the courtyard they were greeted by a middle-aged man, flanked by half a dozen guards.

“Welcome!” Rhodri called out in broken Norse, spreading his arms so that the green cloth of his sleeves flowed in the light wind. The messenger hurried to dismount his horse and almost ran to his king. He whispered something to Rhodri, who only nodded in response. The messenger disappeared inside. The Vikings began to dismount their horses, and the shieldmaiden that had been placed in charge of the wagon handed Ylva her crutches. The messenger soon reappeared with a young priest following him closely. The priest stopped next to Rhodri and looked at him as if waiting for orders. The king started speaking and the priest translated to Norse.

“It is an honour to meet you, sons of Ragnar. I have heard of your great victories; no man can doubt the skill of the Vikings.” The king paused and gestured towards the entrance of the villa.

“As you have been told, I wish to strike a deal with you. You have travelled a long way, you must be tired and hungry. Let us go inside and see if we can come to an agreement.” The Vikings handed their horses over to the stable boys and followed Rhodri inside. The servants had prepared a meal for them and scurried around trying to keep everyone’s cups filled.

“So, what sort of deal is it that you have in mind?” Ubbe asked after having filled his stomach. The priest, Eadgar, leaned in and translated quickly. Rhodri smiled.

“I see that you do not want to waste any time. That is understandable, you are very busy men.” He called a guard to his side and whispered something to him. The guard left the room and Rhodri continued speaking.

“I do not wish to see Wales plundered and burnt, like Northumbria was and like Wessex inevitably will be. So I am going to offer you something that will give you legal right to a relatively large kingdom.” Ivar narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Why would you give us your kingdom? If you fought us you might be able to get it back one day, but by giving us legal right you are making it much more difficult for yourself.” He asked. The king smiled when he heard Eadgar's translation.

“It is not Wales that I speak of.” The king sipped at his wine, looking rather amused at the confused expressions his words had generated. The doors to the great hall opened again and the guard returned with a young woman at his side. She looked as if she’d rather be anywhere but there. Ylva let out a hiss, making Ivar raise his eyebrows in question. Rhodri rose to his feet and spoke once more.

“This is Blaeja, daughter of king Ælle. I offer you her hand in marriage.”

Chapter 14: The second promise

Blaeja’s skin had become even paler since Ylva last saw her. Having to escape her home and then hear of her father’s death must have taken its toll on the young woman. And now the man who was supposed to protect her plans to sell her off like a broodmare, Ylva thought. The guard pulled out a chair for Blaeja and she sat down, folding her hands in her lap and staring straight ahead as if she could shut out what was happening around her.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but not all of your brothers are married?” Rhodri asked Ubbe.

“I am spoken for already, as is Björn. And Ivar…” Ubbe’s voice trailed off as he looked at his youngest brother, not quite sure what he should tell Rhodri. Ivar cocked his head to the side and let his fingers intertwine with Ylva’s.

“My woman is sitting right beside me, I fear she might take offense if I start speaking of marrying someone else.” Ylva gave him a faint smile before turning her attention back to Blaeja. The young princess didn’t seem to have noticed her. The long, dark braid stuck out from the shawl that was wrapped around her head.

“Should we accept this offer, it will be Sigurd or Hvitserk that marries her.” Ubbe said. Sigurd curiously studied the Saxon princess. Halfdan let his eyes wander over Blaeja, a grin spreading over his face.

“She’s a beauty. Are you sure that the offer is only for the Ragnarssons? I am the brother of a king and I have no wife. I wouldn’t mind having her warm me at night.” As Eadgar translated, Ylva could see a flash of terror in Blaeja’s face before she quickly composed herself again. Before Rhodri could answer, Ylva raised her voice.

“Doesn’t she have a brother? Northumbria will go to him first.” Her tone was sharp. Blaeja turned her head and let out a small gasp when she realized that it was Ylva that had spoken. Rhodri was taken aback for a moment, but then the smile slid right back onto his face.

“Yes, she does have a brother and a sister. I’m guessing that you already know that her sister Judith is married to prince Aethelwulf. But her brother Ecgberht is only a young boy, and a sickly one at that. He will not be able to fulfil his duties.” Blaeja’s eyes teared up at the mention of her brother, but she somehow managed to fight them back. Ylva had no way of knowing whether or not his words were true, she had only seen the boy a few times and years had passed since then.

“So whoever marries her will become the rightful ruler, and in return you want us not to attack Wales?” Ubbe summarised.

“Yes.” Rhodri stroked his grizzled beard “Sounds like a good deal, does it not?”

“For you. Not for her.” Ylva said. The room fell quiet. The disgusting smile was still plastered on the king’s face, but his brown eyes had lost all warmth.

“It is also a good deal for you, isn’t that more important?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What were you doing out there?” The small band of Vikings were staying at Rhodri’s villa until the answer from Björn and the other leaders arrived. Ylva sat in front of a mirror, trying to comb through her hair. She looked at Ivar in the mirror when he asked her.

“I spoke my mind. Blaeja did not seem too fond of this plan.”

“Why are you bothered with her happiness? Her father was a cruel man, you know that better than anyone.” He moved across the floor and placed his head on her lap. “Imagine what we could do to her.” He whispered in a voice that was probably meant to be sensual. Ylva’s face became distorted with anger.

“I don’t want to hurt her.” Ivar looked at her as if he thought she was joking, but when her lips didn’t curl into a smile he realized that she wasn’t.

“You’re serious.”

“You didn’t get to choose your parents, and neither did she.”

“But she knew what they did and yet did nothing to help you!” Ivar had pulled back from her, shocked at Ylva’s aversion to hurting the princess.

“What was she supposed to do? She was no older than me when I came there, still a child. Did you expect her to overpower the guards, steal the keys and smuggle me out?”

“She could’ve done something, brought you water...” Ylva cut him short.

“Have you not met Ælle? That man ruled his family with an iron fist, there is not a doubt in my mind that he struck both his wife and their children. Once he found out her life would have turned into a living hell.” Ivar’s face darkened.

“It still might, depending on how soft hearted her husband is.” Ylva leaned down towards him.

“I will not allow either of your brothers to hurt her. If I see a bruise on her, whoever did it will wake up to a blade at his throat.”

“I thought you wanted revenge.” The disappointment in his eyes was outdone only by the anger in his voice.

“To me revenge doesn’t involve making an innocent girl suffer the same way that I did. I was handed over to Ælle like a present to appease him, and now Blaeja is about to receive the same treatment.” Ylva stood up, she couldn’t stand listening to Ivar’s vicious words any longer. “You disappoint me. Don’t bother coming to my bed tonight.” His chest started heaving, his breath strained. She walked away with tears slowly forming at the corners of her eyes, leaving him on the floor. She had barely turned the corner before Ivar let out his rage. He screamed at the top of his lungs, picked up the chair she had been sitting on and threw it across the room. Ubbe came running just in time to see Ivar lift up the mirror and smash it against the ground. It shattered into a thousand pieces and blood began to flow from the cuts on Ivar’s hands. Ubbe crouched down next to Ivar and tried to calm him, but Ivar didn’t seem to hear. His entire body was shaking as if he was having a seizure, only adding to the grisly image, and his lips were moving as if in a prayer. Ubbe leaned in closer to hear.

“Never, never, she said never…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mood at the dinner table was tense, to say the least. Ivar fumbled with the silverware in his bandaged hands. The skin around his eyes was swollen, revealing that he had been crying. Now his face was stuck in a scowl. Judging by their red eyes, both Blaeja and Ylva had done the same. For once Ivar had not protested when Ubbe sat down between him and Ylva. Rhodri conversed politely with the others, paying no mind to the awkward situation at the furthest end of the table. Sigurd on the other hand glanced at Ylva every now and again. One time when their eyes met he looked apologetic, as if he was sorry for what had happened. But Ylva couldn’t shake the feeling that he was also a bit pleased that he had been right. Rhodri called out to Ubbe.

“How soon do you think that we will have your brother’s answer?” Ubbe swallowed a sip of wine, thinking over his answer.

“The messenger left only a few hours ago, then again he travels alone and on horseback so he will be much quicker then we were. I think we should have an answer in two days’ time.”

“Excellent. I expect it to be a positive response.” Ubbe gave a half-hearted smile and went back to poking at the food. The dinner continued in sullen silence at their end of the table.

After having endured the company of the others for what felt like an eternity, Ylva excused herself and went to bed. She felt unusually cold, and with a sinking heart she realized that she had gotten used to Ivar keeping her warm. She cursed and rubbed her swollen eyes before pulling the covers all the way up to her chin. After hours of twisting and turning Ylva was so exhausted that she started to drift off. She soon found herself back in the dark embrace of her nightmares. This time she relived the day that they broke her knees. Ælle’s guards had dragged her back inside the villa and thrown her on the floor in front of the king and his family. The two girls had looked on in horror as their father ordered his men to bring out hammers. His wife had turned away, covering the eyes of the little boy that sat on her lap. When the men had started working on her right knee, Judith had looked away. She had tried to make Blaeja do the same, but the younger girl looked on as if in a trance while Ylva screamed and eventually passed out from the pain. Ylva woke up sweating and crying.

“What did you dream this time?” Ylva nearly jumped out of her skin. Ivar was sitting on the floor, only a few paces away from the bed. She could barely see him in the dark, but his voice sounded strange.

“Something unpleasant.” She answered. Ivar crawled up to the bed and leaned his forehead against it. Ylva watched him for a few seconds before making up her mind. She reached down and stroked his cheek. When he looked up at her she spread her arms in a welcoming gesture.

“You told me not to come into bed with you.”

“I know.” She moved further in and lifted the blankets so that he could get under them. Ivar pulled himself up and laid down next to her. Ylva wasted no time; she pressed her lips to his, desperate for warmth and comfort. Ivar reciprocated and moved so that he was on top of her. When they broke apart to breathe he let out a sob.

“You promised me. You said you would never leave.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks again and wetting Ylva’s face. He tugged at her tunic.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She whispered while working to unlace his pants. He yanked her tunic up, nearly ripping it because of his fumbling fingers and pressed his hand between her legs. Ylva had managed to open his pants and started pulling them down. She moved her hands to his back and used her feet to push them down the rest of the way. This time he was ready for her immediately. He pushed inside her and she let out a small yelp. His tears fell on her face and in her hair as he thrusted sloppily.

“Ivar, I can’t hurt her. Please, don’t hate me for that.” She begged. Ivar pressed a kiss to her lips, he tasted of salt.

“Say that you won’t leave, and mean it this time.” She nodded and pressed her cheek to his, their tears mixing together.

“I promise.”

 

Chapter 15: Goodbyes

Blaeja’s head snapped to the side when the gloved hand struck her cheek. She took a step backwards and regained her balance. She could feel her skin burn where the blow had landed. Rhodri nodded to the guard that he could let go of the princess and step aside again.

“Blaeja, this behaviour must stop. Do you think your husband will enjoy you sulking? I hardly think it will inspire kindness in him.” He was holding her shawl, twisting it around his hands.

“You know nothing about kindness.” She spat at him while tentatively lifting her fingers to her red cheek.

“I have allowed your mother to stay with me. And your brother, even though he requires constant care. And that hospitality could end rather abruptly.” Blaeja’s eyes widened at the implications of what he had just said.

“Your mother is still beautiful. Maybe I should send her to Halfdan. He would’ve preferred you, but I’m sure he’ll make do with her.”

“You wouldn’t. She is a queen.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but to no avail.

“She was a queen. Your family may hold Northumbria on paper, but your father is dead and the prince is hiding here.” He stepped closer to her and placed a hand over the swelling on her cheek. “You will marry one of them, and thank our heavenly Father for your fortune. Had you not left Northumbria before the invasion, they probably would have taken you as a slave after defeating your father. This way, you will have food and comfort and you will only have to share a bed with one of them.” Blaeja wanted to shout that his idea of comfort was very different from hers, but she no longer had the energy to fight back. The threats about her mother had taken away what little was left of her spirit. She could feel her legs start to tremble and she sunk to the floor. Rhodri watched her in silence for a few seconds before throwing the shawl on the floor right in front of her.

“Put it on before you come out to breakfast, cover up that ugly mark.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva moved carefully as she got out of bed in the morning. She still felt sore from Ivar’s rough treatment during the night. She had considered telling him to be gentler, but she knew that her words earlier had hurt him and so she didn’t want to put a dampener on his pleasure. I can handle it, for him Ylva had thought to herself. Besides, she was confident that he wasn’t hurting her intentionally. He was just upset and underestimated his strength. Once Ivar had been satisfied, he had pulled her in close and stroked her hair, redeeming himself for the aching he had caused between her thighs. Ylva had almost gone back to sleep when a thought popped up in her head.

“Ivar?”

“Mhm”

“I didn’t have to help you with my hands.”

“Mm.” Ylva’s eyelids had felt heavier by the second, but she wanted to share her hopeful thought with him.

“Maybe it is just nerves and it will get easier for you in the future, the more comfortable you get.” Ivar had moved his head slightly, his stubble tickling her neck. It had taken him so long to respond that she almost thought he had fallen asleep.

“Maybe. Go to sleep now.” She had nuzzled up even closer to him and given him a peck on his nose before allowing herself to drift off.

Now Ylva dressed herself and waited for Ivar to do the same. She watched him sit on the bed and fumble with the strings that held his pants and shirt together for a few seconds. She sat down next to him and gently pushed his hands away. He placed a hand on her back and let her help him. While Ylva worked on making him presentable, Ivar thought about their argument yesterday. He still couldn’t quite understand why she didn’t want Blaeja to be harmed. But Ylva couldn’t be allowed to leave, not now that he had shown himself vulnerable. And, if he was to be completely honest, he didn’t want her leave. Her words of encouragement last night had lit a hope in him that he might not be as horribly disfigured as he had thought. Ivar thought to himself that he would respect her opinion, provided she could explain it to him. And if she couldn’t, he would simply coax her over to his side. Proud of himself for having come up with a solution, he started massaging her lower back. When she was done Ivar flashed a big smile.

“Let’s go find something to eat.” When they entered the great hall, the found that they were almost the last ones to arrive. Two of the warriors had gotten drunk last night, to Ubbe’s dismay, and were sleeping it off. If Rhodri would’ve tried to attack the Vikings in their sleep, those drunken fools would have been of no use. The princess was nowhere to be found either. Ubbe smiled carefully at the couple, still disturbed by Ivar’s sudden fit of rage yesterday. His younger brother had refused to tell him what had happened, but it was clear that he and Ylva had gotten into a fight. When Ubbe and Sigurd went to bed, Ivar had followed them and taken the last bed in the room. Sigurd’s amusement had known no end.

“Has she grown tired of having a cripple in her bed?”  He had jeered. Ivar had picked up one of his boots and thrown it at Sigurd, hitting him in the stomach. Sigurd had gotten out of bed, ready to punch Ivar in the face, but Ubbe had intervened. Ivar had turned to face the wall and pretended like he couldn’t hear his brothers’ bickering. Ubbe had woken up in the middle of the night and found Ivar’s bed empty. He had considered going to Ylva and see if he was there, but he ultimately decided against it. This is between them.

“I see you two have patched things up.” They sat down at the table and helped themselves to some of the food. Ivar let his hand rest on Ylva’s leg, and she leaned in closer to him. The doors opened and Blaeja walked in, closely followed by a guard. Her shawl was wrapped even closer around her face and when she came closer Ylva understood why. An angry red mark was visible on her left cheek, it seemed to continue in under the fabric. Ylva sat up straight again, making Ivar hiss as he had been about to kiss her. She ignored his grumpy expression and dug her eyes into Rhodri instead. If looks could kill the vile man would’ve fallen forward onto the table right then and there, but unfortunately the king didn’t seem too bothered. He simply shot her a look over his cup and then continued eating. The Ragnarssons soon noticed the state of Blaeja’s face too and Ubbe looked almost as angry as Ylva. Not surprising, considering he had wed a former slave. Sigurd fidgeted in his chair, not sure how to act. Blaeja barely touched her food. Ylva grabbed on to her clothes and balled the fabric in her fists to keep herself from grabbing a knife and lunging at Rhodri. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ubbe slowly pulling the plate with meat further away from her, and with it the largest knife. Ivar leaned in closer and whispered in her ear.

“Easy now.” His breathing was getting heavy, clearly excited by Ylva’s death glare. She finally relaxed and unclenched her fists. But she wasn’t going to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with this king. Ylva picked up her crutches and made her way out of the room. Ivar stayed seated for a while longer, watching as she walked away. He let out a low growl and then quickly drained his cup before following her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So we have an agreement?” Rhodri asked. It was early in the morning of the third day since the Vikings arrival at the villa, and the messenger had just returned with word from Björn.

“Yes. The princess will marry one of my brothers.” Ubbe answered. Blaeja looked more like a statue than a human. Ylva wasn’t sure how she should feel about these news. On the one hand, being sold off to strangers was a deeply humiliating ordeal. On the other hand, Blaeja wouldn’t have a happy life here with Rhodri either. He wasn’t a kind man, that much was clear. Ylva felt her blood begin to boil when she thought of the mark on Blaeja’s cheek. No, it might actually be better for the princess to come with them. That way I can keep an eye on her.

“We will leave today and take her with us.” Ivar added. Ylva studied him carefully. They hadn’t officially come to an agreement about what to do with Blaeja. After their reconciliation Ylva had been reluctant to bring up the topic again. But for once Ivar’s face was neutral and his tone revealed nothing.

“I will send a few soldiers with you, to ensure that you make it back safely. And I would like someone to witness the wedding, so Eadgar will be joining you too.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“I want to ask something.” The room went silent and all eyes turned to Blaeja. “Eadgar, will you please translate?” The young priest snapped out of his shock.

“Yes, princess.” She inclined her head in gratefulness and then turned to Ubbe.

“As the king has already informed you, my brother is very sick.” She took a deep breath “He may not live for long. I wish to visit him before I am brought to my intended husband, so that I can say my goodbyes.” Ubbe’s face softened.

“We will wait until you’ve spoken to your family.” Sigurd promised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaeja stepped inside the small, dark room and shut the door behind her.

“Ecgberht?” She asked quietly, holding a candle out in front of her so she wouldn’t stumble on something. She heard a groan coming from the bed and she hurried to pull out a chair so that she could sit next to him. Blaeja placed the candle on the bedside table. Her brother turned in the bed and struggled to open his eyes. When the light shone over his face, Blaeja forced herself to hold back a whimper. The rashes and swelling had gotten worse since the last time she was allowed to visit. His eyelids had a strange blue and red hue and the skin was swollen.

“Sister…” He reached out an arm to her and she could see that the rashes on his hands hat gotten worse too. Blaeja took his hand, ever so carefully. The skin on his fingers felt like dried up paper that could peel off at any time. His breathing was strained as he spoke.

“How kind of Rhodri to let you visit, I have been telling the nurses that I miss you.”

“I’m here now. How are your muscles?” She stroked his dark hair. Blaeja wished that she could open the curtains and let the sun shine in through the windows. She wanted to see him properly, one last time. But she knew that the sun would hurt his sensitive skin even more, so the candlelight would have to do.

 “I can move, for the time being. But it won’t last for long, it never does.”

“You will get better again, you always do.” She retorted stubbornly.

“Maybe not this time.”

“Why do you say that?” She asked angrily.

“Sister, don’t you hear my breathing?” Blaeja tried to interrupt but he only raised his voice “And my heart, I can feel that something is wrong. It doesn’t beat the way it should. This might be the last time you see me.” He was panting now. Blaeja bit the inside of her cheek. She had to tell him.

“This might be the last time I see you even if you get better.” Ecgberht’s face twitched in confusion.

“What?”

“I’m getting married. Rhodri has made a deal with the pagans to stop them from attacking Wales.” She was shaking now “I am leaving with them today and I don’t even know which one of Ragnar’s sons I’ll be forced to spend my life with.” Ecgberht tightened his grip on her hand.

“No.”

“I don’t get a say in it. The unmarried sons will decide amongst themselves who gets me.” She rambled on.

“Is it one of your potential husbands that did that?” He used his free hand to point to her bruised cheek.

“It was one of Rhodri’s guards.” She immediately regretted telling him that. Ecgberht tried to suck in more air and he broke down coughing. Blaeja gave him some water to drink.

“I will have his head.” He finally rasped. She squeezed his hand gently. She had always admired that he was so fierce, despite his sickness and his young age.

“No, sweet brother. If I don’t do this he will send mother to another pagan and he will throw you out of his villa, leaving you to die.”

“I don’t care what he does to me.”

“Then think about mother. Don’t anger Rhodri, he will not hesitate to take out it out on her. I have already said goodbye to her.” Ecgberht’s face morphed into a scowl, his brown eyes blazing with fury. After a brief silence he closed his eyes in defeat. He let out a sigh before speaking again.

“You are a princess, don’t let the pagans treat you like a slave.” She smiled at him and felt a tear run down her cheek.

“If I can learn to be half as fierce as you, that won’t be a problem.” Blaeja leaned in to hug him and he wrapped his arms around her. Soon she could feel his tears wetting the bruised side of her face. They sat like this for a long time, until someone knocked on the door. It swung open and her handmaiden stepped inside.

“Your bags are packed, princess. They are waiting for you.” Blaeja pressed her lips to Ecgberht’s brow before letting go of him. She stood up and straightened her dress.

“Remember what I said, sister.” She nodded and then quickly turned and walked out of the room. The handmaiden closed the door and led Blaeja to the courtyard. They all stood there, staring as she walked towards the wagon that she was to sit in. Rhodri had insisted that she didn’t get a horse of her own. Maybe he was afraid that she would try to escape. She tried to hold her head high and ignore the eyes that burned away at her. When she passed Ylva her resolution faltered for a moment, as she hadn’t forgotten that this girl had good reason to want to kill her. Blaeja forced herself to continue walking and she soon found herself standing next to the wagon. She paused for a moment and braced herself for what was to come.

 

 

 

Notes:

In case someone wants to know what illness it is that Ecgberht has, I based it on this http://www.healthline.com/health/dermatomyositis#Overview1 and some other pages about dermatomyositis. Those pages are in Swedish though...

Chapter 16: If it was within your power

“Are you afraid of me?” Blaeja jumped at the sudden question. Ylva had tilted her head to the side and was now staring at the princess, her eyebrows raised. They were both sitting in the wagon that was slowly making its way to the Viking camp. Blaeja had felt her throat close up with fear when she realized that Ylva would be sitting next to her. But now they had been on the road for hours, and Ylva had spent most of the time napping or talking to the dark-haired Ragnarsson. The princess tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“Yes. Is that so strange?” She whispered. Ylva laughed, causing those closest to the wagon to turn their heads.

“Maybe not.” Ylva started moving closer. Blaeja tried to pull away, but she had nowhere to go.

“Please, I’m sorry for what my father did to you. I couldn’t do anything about it.” She blurted out. Ylva stopped in her tracks.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Blaeja. There’s something I want to tell you.” She said in a low voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darkness fell quickly over the small camp. Blaeja huddled closer to the fire as she waited for the food to be served. The blond one, Sigurd, handed her a small bowl of stew. She glanced at him quickly and murmured a thank you before turning her full attention to the food.

“You need to learn our language, princess.” The older brother said to Blaeja, once she had eaten. His accent was much thicker than Ylva’s, she thought to herself, she could barely understand him.

“I will try my best.” She said, and then resumed staring into the fire. One of Rhodri’s soldiers stepped forward.

“Priest, I need you to translate. Tell them that we need to decide who will stand guard tonight.” His words came out harsh. He probably didn’t like the deal that his king had made, and being chosen to make sure that it proceeded according to plan hardly made things better.

“We will take turns two and two, one of you and one of us.” Ubbe responded. The man spat out his next words.

“He wonders if you do not trust them to stand guard on their own.” Eadgar translated, but Ubbe suspected that the priest had cleaned it up a bit.

“Would you trust us to keep an eye out while you slept?” Sigurd retorted. The soldier clenched his jaw but decided not to press on in the matter. Instead, he turned his focus to something new.

“Where is your brother? And that woman of his? It is dark out and they are not back.”

“They wanted a moment to themselves. They will come back when they are done.”

“How do we know that they are not getting reinforcements so that you can kill us all and steal away the princess?” Ubbe groaned in annoyance when Eadgar repeated it back in Norse.

“Why would we do something that ends the deal? We want Northumbria.” The soldier was about to answer again, but Blaeja cut him off.

“I am tired of hearing you argue and question everything, soldier. I demand that you stop these childish attempts to provoke them.” The man looked angry, but he did not press on.

“As you command, princess.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I would suggest that you do as she says, unless she told you to kill us.” Sigurd said with a wide grin. The man strode away as soon as he had heard Eadgar’s translation. Ubbe raised his cup to Blaeja. He looked impressed, but she did not reciprocate. She hadn’t done it as a kindness to the Ragnarssons, but rather because them being provoked could only mean bad things for her. Blaeja bit the inside of her cheek so hard that it started to bleed. Where was Ylva?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva sighed as Ivar left a trail of kisses down her neck and over her collarbone. When the group had decided to set up camp for the night, Ivar had quickly pulled Ylva aside and they had sneaked into the woods. Now she was sitting on the ground, her back pressed to a tree trunk while Ivar worked on her skin. He paused for a moment.

“What did you and Blaeja talk about?” He asked while pushing the fabric of her shirt down from her shoulder. Ylva felt as if a cold hand suddenly gripped around her heart. She wasn’t a fool, she had understood that Ivar would bring it up again but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

“I told her that I won’t hurt her. That if anyone raises a hand to her she should tell me…” She had too steel herself before continuing, worried how he would react. Ivar noticed her hesitance and pushed on.

“And what else?” Ylva felt queasy.

“And, I promised that you would protect her.” Ivar cupped her face, the bandages felt rough against her skin, and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Why would you promise such a thing, sweet Ylva?” He whispered. Ylva scrambled her thoughts, looking for a good answer. Her body was still alive with the tingling sensation that had resulted from his touch and she found it difficult to concentrate.

“Because I need you to do this for me. Show me that you trust me. After all, I let it slip when you kept me from attacking Rhodri yesterday.” She intentionally repeated the words he had said right before he cut her hair, hoping it would mollify him. Ivar noticed this and chuckled lightly.

“Clever girl.” Ylva allowed herself to relax slightly and offered up a cunning smile.

“I will agree to this…” Ivar scraped his teeth over her ear “if you can explain to me why you care so much for her well-being.”

“I already have!” Ivar shook his head.

“Not good enough. We are Vikings, we conquer and we take slaves. You know this. Why is this time any different?” Ylva’s face flashed with sudden anger and she pushed Ivar. She wasn’t strong enough to make him fall backwards, but he was startled and let go of her.

“First of all, I have never liked the way that the female slaves are treated. I understand the need for servants, but I don’t see the need to rape and humiliate them…” Here, he tried to interrupt but she kept going. “But since I grew up seeing it every day, I accepted it. Ivar, do you think that when any group of people are defeated in battle, then the women of that people deserve to be enslaved?” He shrugged his shoulders.

“If their warriors are weak, then the people are weak.” She felt as if she had been slapped in the face.

“I take that as a yes.” Her voice was shaking but her gaze remained steady.

“Why are you so upset?”

“Because our people was defeated!” She screamed at him “Our fighters were too weak, and so I was captured. You’re saying that I deserved it, that the Saxons were in the right as they were the winning side.” He looked shocked at first, but he quickly brushed it off.

“No Ylva, that is not what I’m saying. The attack on the settlement was different from a full scale war, you were farmers.” He said, making a poor attempt at a soothing voice. Ylva silently cursed his lack of understanding.

“Do you think that when your father went on raids, they let the farmers be?” She tried to keep her voice calm, as she realized that his father was a sensitive topic “Most of the slaves back in Kattegatt were probably commoners once; some of them were farmers, like Ragnar before his rise to power.” Ylva snaked her arms around his neck and leaned in to him. Ivar grabbed on to her waist and they gently rubbed their noses together. “If it was within your power, would you make it so that an innocent child was born with the same legs as you? Your legs would still be as they are, the only difference would be that someone who had no part in your own misfortune would suffer too.” Ivar let out a small, indecipherable noise. His grip on her waist tightened. “No matter how much the child proved itself worthy, it would be considered a waste of space. Not deserving of love and affection.” She could feel him shudder in her arms and kept going, determined that she would make him understand her reasoning. “It would cry in pain as you did when you were little, provided the parents doesn’t leave it to die after the birth. It would be pushed to the side and called a freak time and time again, until the child starts believing it. Would you do it?” Ivar loosened his grip on her waist again and lifted his head, staring into her green eyes.

“No.” He said. Ylva kissed him tenderly.

“That is why I care about Blaeja. I don’t want her sold off to someone that will hurt her. I can protect her, and I want you to help me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up.” Ubbe grabbed Ivar by the shoulder and shook him lightly. Ivar groaned and stretched his limbs, waking Ylva in the process.

“It is your turn to stand guard, little brother.” He let go of Ylva and tried to rub the drowsiness away from his face before sitting up.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll try not to wake you when I come back.” Ylva muttered something incoherent, already sinking back into whatever she had been dreaming. For once it seemed to be a pleasant dream, Ivar could’ve sworn he had heard her giggle before he fell asleep. He dragged himself past everyone that was lying on the ground. For a moment he considered kicking Sigurd; not out of spite, but because of his damned snoring. Ivar kept moving until he reached his chariot, climbing in and using it to sit more comfortable. He looked over his shoulder and could see that one of the Saxons were standing at the other side of the small camp. It was a chilly night and he was glad that he wouldn’t have to sit like this for long. The cold usually made his legs stiffen and inhibited his ability to crawl. This was a rare problem though, as his status as prince meant that he almost always slept in a warm bed and he had better clothing than the common warriors. This night was one of few exceptions.

It wasn’t an exciting task, sitting there and waiting for something to happen. Ivar understood that it was a necessary precaution, but he also knew that it was highly unlikely that someone would attack them. The only soldiers nearby where Rhodri’s own, and any band of robbers that tried to attack a camp this well-armed had to be completely mad. Ivar fiddled impatiently with his axe. And then the silence was broken by a scream from somewhere behind him. He turned rapidly, axe in hand, half expecting the Saxon guard to have fallen asleep and missed the intruders. Then he understood what was happening. Ylva was having a nightmare again. The rest of the camp was waking up, the Saxons were confused and shouted. The Vikings quickly understood what was going on, as something similar had happened on their way to Rhodri. Though that time hadn’t been this serious.

“Settle down, we are not under attack.” Ubbe called out as Ivar made his way to Ylva. Blaeja got there before him and he could see her take Ylva’s hand, trying to wake her up gently. Ylva woke up and looked with wide eyes at Blaeja that was now stroking her hair and saying something that Ivar couldn’t understand. He finally reached them and Blaeja moved aside. He stroked Ylva’s cheek carefully.

“What happened? I thought you were dreaming of happier things tonight.”

“I was, but it changed. Everything disappeared. You disappeared.” Ivar pressed his lips to her sweaty brow. The Saxons watched from a distance, not entirely sure if they should go back to sleep or not. The Vikings were already returning to the spots where they had been sleeping. Ivar glared at Rhodri’s men.

‘Blaeja, tell them to fuck off, will you?” Blaeja decided to say something a bit less provocative instead.

“Please, go back to sleeping or keeping watch, whichever you were doing. She didn’t mean to startle you, she was having a bad dream.” They didn’t look too pleased, but they did as she said. Ylva tugged at Ivar, wanting him to lie down next to her again.

“Ivar?” Sigurd came over and sat down next to the trio.

“What do you want?” Ivar said in the same harsh tone that he almost always had when speaking with his brother.

“I have the next watch, but I can go now so that you can stay with her.” Ivar furrowed his brow, it looked as if he was trying to figure out what the catch was. But Ylva looked at him with begging eyes, so finally he nodded.

“Yes, I want to stay with her.” Sigurd stood up and walked away. Ubbe looked on from the middle of the camp, where he was still standing, and in that moment he felt incredibly proud of both his brothers. Ylva lifted her head slightly so that she could see Blaeja better.

“Thank you.” Blaeja bowed her head, then motioned to stand up and walk away but Ivar lifted his hand and signalled for her to wait. His face twitched as if he was reluctant to say it.

“Thank you.”

Chapter 17: Demand respect

“þú” Blaeja’s face scrunched up as she tried to shut out the noises of the small party as it moved forward, and concentrate on how Ylva had pronounced the word.

“þú” She repeated slowly. Ylva nodded approvingly.

“Good, and now in a sentence with the other words. Velkominn, hvat segir þú?”

 Blaeja started repeating it, struggled briefly with the second word, but managed to say the whole sentence.

“She needs to work on her pronunciation.” Ivar called from his chariot. Ylva stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh.

“He thinks that I am not doing well?” Blaeja asked nervously.

“Don’t listen to him, you are a quick learner. Ivar likes to think that he is better at your language than I am, so clearly he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” This made the princess let out a snort.

“Pfft, I can barely understand him or his brothers unless they speak very slowly. You’ve lived here most of your life.  ”

“Yes, although the last few years I usually just heard curse words and different threats.” Ylva said, her voice seeping with gallows humour. Ivar called out again

“I know that you are talking about me.” He tried steering even closer to the wagon, but failed miserably as there wasn’t enough room between it and the soldier riding next to them. Ylva rolled her eyes at him.

“Blaeja, let us go over how to tell someone to shut up.”

                                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It looked as if the entire camp had come to catch a glimpse of the princess of Northumbria. The crowd had spread out on both sides of the small path that lead to the main tent, where Björn, Hvitserk and Harald waited for them outside, along with the other kings.

“Don’t be afraid.” Ylva whispered to Blaeja as they climbed out of the wagon. Rhodri’s guards hurried to surround the princess and closed her off from Ylva. Ubbe, Sigurd and Eadgar took the lead while Ivar and Ylva fell in behind Blaeja. Ylva was so focused on the people in front of them that she didn’t notice that Ivar struggled to move forward. Blaeja felt as if she was some animal being led to slaughter, the difference of course being that she knew exactly what was about to happen. But she refused to look the part. Blaeja drew her strength from Ylva’s support: she jutted her chin up and forced herself to take a deep breath to steady her trembling limbs.

“Welcome, Blaeja of Northumbria.” Björn said in a deep voice. His accent was much more subtle than Ubbe’s. Blaeja curtsied.

“Thank you, Björn Ironside.”

“Let us go inside, we have much to discuss.” Rhodri’s soldiers placed themselves at the entrance, save the two that stood behind Blaeja as she sat down in one of the chairs. She placed a hand on the armrest of the chair to her right.

“Ylva, will you sit with me?” This earned confused looks from both Björn and Hvitserk.

“Of course.” Ylva slumped down in the chair and smiled at the brothers. Ivar took the seat next to her, and as he sat down he let out a low groan of pain. Ylva’s smile disappeared and Ivar realized that the noise hadn’t been just in his head. He gritted his teeth together. Ylva placed her hand over his and squeezed it lightly. It seemed that the others hadn’t heard it, amidst the chaos of everyone finding a seat, and she didn’t want to embarrass Ivar by bringing everyone’s attention to it. She would ask him later.

                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is wrong?” Ylva asked. She had crept under the covers and now she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Nothing.” Ivar growled.

“You’re a shit liar.” Once they had started making their way back to their own tent, it had become obvious that something was wrong. Ivar moved in a strange way, it looked nothing like his usual smooth, snakelike slithering. By the time they had reached the tent, Ivar was sweating and his breathing was ragged. Now he sat on the ground and he refused to even look at her. He was carving away at a piece of wood.

“Come to bed.” She begged. When he still didn’t respond Ylva lifted the blankets to show that she was naked.

“Ivar.” This finally made him react, but not in the way that she had hoped. He stopped carving and looked at her, his eyes became black.

“I can’t!” He snapped. She jumped in fear of his sudden outburst. He turned away from her again and continued. “I won’t be able to get into bed.” Ylva sat up and wrapped one of the blankets around her body before slipping out of bed and sitting down next to him. She let her chin rest on his shoulder.

“Talk to me.” He pursed his lips and continued carving.

“It’s the cold. My legs hurt and my hips are even worse.” Ylva tried to speak but Ivar cut her off “And don’t say that you can go ask someone to help me. I don’t need anyone to see me like this.”

“I know you don’t want that, why do you think I didn’t say anything in front of the others?” She wrapped an arm around him and kissed his cheek. “The question is: are we going to sleep on the ground tonight, or are you going to let me try to help you?”

“How are you going to help me?” He put away the knife and instead grabbed her free arm “You are so skinny. How could you lift me? Give me a blanket and go to bed.”

“I’m not going to lift you. There has to be something else I can do. Sit behind you and push, or maybe I can sit on the bed and help pull you up.” Ivar let go of her and shook his head.

“Ylva…”

“You sleeping on the ground again is not going to make it better. Come now.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged at him playfully. Ivar groaned and made his way to the bed.

“Try pulling yourself up so that your upper body is on the bed, and I’ll see if I can help you with your legs.” Ivar thought to himself that he was going to fall backwards and land on Ylva, and that she deserved it for being so pushy. Ivar followed her instructions and he could feel her start to half-push, half-lift his legs. It hurt, but he clenched his jaw and grabbed on to the corner of the bed so that he could pull himself forward. Ylva was panting with exhaustion, she had almost managed to push Ivar’s legs onto the bed. The blanket had slid off her, it laid in a pool around her knees. She gathered her remaining strength and gave one last shove. Ivar finally managed to lie down on the bed, although not completely straight. Ylva let go of him and picked up the blanket. She wrapped it around her body again and sat back down. A drop of sweat trickled down her forehead.

“Gods, you’re heavy.” Ivar seemed offended.

“It is all muscle.”

“I know, I’ve seen you naked. Scoot in and take off your pants.”

“As long as you accept that you will have to do most of the work.” He smirked as he said it, but the blankets were balled up in his tightly clenched fists: his legs felt as if they had been doused with icy water. Ylva slapped his arm.

“I’m going to give you a massage. I would offer you some of my salve as well, but I assume that Floki has already tried that?”

“Yes, they tried it when I was little. It made no difference at all.”

“Floki will find something that works for you, some day. Or I will.” Ivar couldn’t help but smile at her. He leaned down and pulled her into a kiss. Oh, the things she did to make him happy.

                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Eadgar, could you give us a moment?” The young priest looked up.

“Of course, princess. Let me just gather my things.” He continued picking up the scrolls and the ink from the small table that he had been sitting at together with Blaeja and Ylva. Once he had tucked it all away safely, he bowed to the two women and scurried outside.

“What is it?” Ylva asked kindly. Blaeja fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of her dress. She opened her mouth as if to speak, only to close it again. Ylva waited patiently. Finally, Blaeja smoothed the red fabric over her knees and said:

“Can you tell me what they are like? The Ragnarssons?” Ylva’s heart hurt for the girl, who was clearly terrified. Ylva saw no point in dragging it out so she went straight to describing each of the two brothers.

“Hvitserk is eager to prove himself. He was the only one of them to go with Björn to the Mediterranean. I have never seen him fight, but according to Ivar he is easily distracted. He’s not as hot-headed as Björn and Sigurd, he’s more like Ubbe in that regard. He tries to stay out of the fights, especially those between Sigurd and Ivar. When they found me Hvitserk seemed very curious about what had happened, but Ivar told him off and he just sort of rolled over…” Ylva looked at Blaeja who had started pulling at the loose thread again, her gaze stuck somewhere above Ylva’s shoulder.

“Sigurd is more open, and well-liked by the commoners. He often plays music at feasts and gatherings. He was very rude to me once, but he apologized. I don’t think he meant what he said, he was upset and drunk, but I still haven’t quite forgiven him. He often provokes Ivar, which means I have a hard time forgiving him for his mistakes. As far as I know, they have never hit any of their women but I only know what rumours tell me. Of course, they’ve both been with slave girls and one could argue that the girls might not have had much to say in the matter. They both had complicated relationships with their parents. Ragnar abandoned them, and Hvitserk nearly drowned because of Aslaug’s neglect. But Blaeja…” Ylva leaned in and took her hand, making Blaeja twitch at the sudden contact. She met Ylva’s eyes, warm brown locking onto light green. “I don’t think either of them will hurt you, not intentionally at least. You have to stand up your husband when he does something that is unacceptable, demand to be treated with respect. Continue learning the language, about our culture, speak with the others in the camp and come to the gatherings. Become a well-known face and it will be much more difficult for them to see and treat you like a possession.”

                                                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My prince.” Hildur stepped inside the tent “I heard that you had returned and I thought that I should bring you the clothes.” She held a large bundle in her arms.

“Everything is done, even the dress?” Ivar asked.

“Yes, would you like to see it?” He nodded.

“Quickly, before she returns from her lesson with the princess.” Hildur placed the bundle on the empty bed and started unwrapping it. Ivar thought to himself that he should have the bed removed, since it was never used. Hildur picked up a cloak, two pairs of pants and several other items of clothing before finally finding the dress at the bottom. She held it up for Ivar to look at. It was perfect. The fabric was a dark violet colour that had a hint of red in it and the details were made out in silver. Ivar let his hand trace along the slim sleeves, thinking of how the dress would hug Ylva’s body and make her even more beautiful.

“And you put lacing in the back?” He asked. She turned the dress around to show him.

“Yes, so she can adjust it when she reaches a more healthy weight.”

“You must’ve worked day and night.” He murmured. Hildur could feel her heart warm at his words, she knew that this was the highest praise Ivar would ever give.

“My husband hasn’t needed much assistance, and I had help from some of the other women. Including Helga.” Ivar snapped his head up to look at her. “We agreed that it was about time Ylva had some proper clothes.” Hildur continued softly. His mouth twitched.

“She will love it. Here.” Ivar handed Hildur her payment. He then picked up the dress and hid it behind his back.

“Ylva will be back any second, and I want it to be a surprise.”

“Then I should leave before she sees me.” Hildur bowed her head and left him. It took only a few minutes before Ylva came inside.

“Blaeja did so well today…” She stopped when she saw Ivar grinning. “What is it?” Ivar gestured towards the empty bed. Ylva’s eyes widened when she saw the bundle of clothes. She sat down next to it and started going through the pile, feeling the materials and holding every piece up so that she could inspect it. When she had rifled through the pile a second time, a disappointed look spread over her face.

“Is the dress not done yet?” Ivar reached behind his back and grabbed on to the dress.

“Take off your clothes.” He said. Ylva let out an amused noise.

“Someone’s very direct today.” He shrugged his shoulders and his grin grew even wider. She stood up and made her way over to Ivar. Before she could sit down next to him he pulled the dress from behind his back.

“Take off your clothes and put this on.” Ylva froze for a second, then she reached out and touched the dress. Ivar saw her face light up as she let the fabric slide between her fingers. Ylva retracted her hand and sat down next to him. She started to undress in a hurry and almost fell over when she yanked off her pants. Ivar grabbed on to her shoulder to steady her. Once she was naked she tried to take the dress from him but he held it just out of reach and wrapped his free arm around her.

“Let me enjoy the view first.” He eyed her hungrily. Ylva sat still for as long as she could while Ivar made low whimpering noises, but she soon started shivering.

“Ivar, I’m cold.” He sulked as he handed her the dress. She pulled it over her head and then Ivar helped her to stand up so that she could pull it down over her hips. She moved so that he could help her with the lacing.

“Let me see.” Ylva faced Ivar again. He let his hand slide down her side. “You should wear it at my brother’s wedding.”

“Do you know if Sigurd and Hvitserk have made up their minds?” Ylva’s heart was racing. Ivar let his thumb brush over her lips.

“No. I think they will announce it tomorrow.” His voice was distant.

“Blaeja is terrified.” She whispered. Ivar’s eyes darkened.

“She shouldn’t be, she’s a fighter. But let’s not talk about this now. Come here.” He placed a hand behind her neck and pulled her closer so that he could press his lips to hers. Ylva sighed when they pulled apart. Before she could react, Ivar was pulling at her dress.

“Stop that.” She slapped his hands away. Ivar looked furious.

“I’m not going to let you tear it, you have to be careful.” She chided him. He bared his teeth at her, his chest heaving.

“Fine.” He took a deep breath to calm himself and then went to work on the lacing. Ylva could hear him curse under his breath every time he fumbled. Once he had completed the task he pushed the dress down from her shoulders and here Ylva stopped him again.

“Now you get ready.” He kicked his boots off and started pulling his shirt over his head. Ylva moved further down the bed so that he could swing his legs up. She pushed herself up to standing, just long enough to pull the dress over her head and then she let herself fall backwards onto the bed. Ivar was already undressed and waiting for her. The second she landed he grabbed her arms and started pulling her further up the bed. Ylva squirmed to get free.

“I have to put the dress away first.” She protested. Ivar hissed angrily but let go of her.

“I should’ve bedded you first and then given it to you.” He muttered as Ylva picked up her crutches and made her way to the empty bed. She laid the dress down next to the rest of the clothes. When she turned back to Ivar he had started tending to himself, his hand moving up and down his length.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?” She asked, trying to keep herself from grinning at him as she moved closer. He didn’t seem to appreciate the joke, because as soon as she came within reach he shot out his arm and pulled her down on the bed. Ylva let out a squeal of surprise and dropped her crutches on the ground. Ivar tugged at her and she followed his lead. She had just barely placed one knee on each side of him before he started pressing into her. Ylva gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders. Once he had pressed his entire cock in, he squeezed her ass in an almost painful way.

“You made me wait, I don’t like that. Now make it up to me.” Ylva started moving, slowly grinding against him. Ivar growled and let his head fall onto the pillows, his eyes closed. Ylva gradually increased her speed and let her fingers trail down his abdomen.  Ivar spasmed under her.

“Don’t.” He warned.

“Are you ticklish?” Ylva asked as a wide smile spread over her face.

“Yes. So don’t…” She ran her fingers over the same place again, earning a new spasm. Ivar’s eyes flew open and he grabbed on to her waist. With one swift motion he flipped Ylva onto her back. The sudden change made his cock slip out of her and now he was hovering above her, his hands still clutched at her waist.

“I said don’t.” She tried to keep a straight face but it was impossible. She reached out and started dragging a finger over the same spot again, but this time Ivar caught her arm and pinned it to the side. He bared his teeth and pressed inside her again. Ylva whimpered and locked her legs around his waist. Ivar started pounding her relentlessly, hitting some sweet spot inside. Ylva clawed desperately at his back, thinking that she couldn’t take it much longer. Ivar sounded like some wild animal. Without warning he placed a hand on her cheek and started pushing, exposing the side of her neck, and sunk his teeth into the skin right below her ear. Ylva couldn’t hold it back. She arched her back and cried out his name. Her legs were weak from the ordeal, but she continued clinging to him like her life depended on it. Ivar soon followed her, biting down once more as his body shuddered when emptied himself inside her. He relaxed his body and laid his head to rest on her shoulder. Once his breathing started to return to normal, he gently patted her leg. She let go of him and he laid down next to her. Her head was still tilted to the side and Ivar started carefully sucking at the mark he had left below her ear, thinking it might soothe the pain. Ylva didn’t react for so long that Ivar thought he had done something to scare her again. But just then she put a hand on his chest and pushed lightly, making him pull away from her neck. She turned to face him and curled up to his chest. Ivar stroked her hair

“Can you come with me tomorrow when I go to Blaeja?” She asked suddenly.

“I suppose I can do that. Why?”

“She wants to know more about your brothers, especially Sigurd and Hvitserk. And…” Ylva ran her fingers down his muscular arm, hoping she wouldn’t upset him “She needs to become a part of our culture, earn respect, and to do that she needs to learn more about the different leaders and the people. You’ve spent years pushed away to the side and observing everyone. Teach her what you know, so that she can survive.”

Chapter 18: Sitting on the Saxon throne

”Have you and Sigurd reached a decision yet?” Ubbe slumped down on the ground next to his brother. Hvitserk nodded without looking up from the sword that laid across his lap.

“Yes. We will go to Björn as soon as he is done speaking with Floki.” He continued polishing the weapon.

“And what have you decided?” Ubbe pressed on. Hvitserk finally looked up from the sword, and he squinted his eyes in the strong sunlight.

“Sigurd will marry the princess. My heart belongs to someone else.” Ubbe thought back to his wedding night, late that spring. He could still see clearly how his wife had undressed in front of them and beckoned for both of them to come to bed.

“And it doesn’t bother you that if Margrethe have children, they will be presented as mine? You won’t have any heirs, little brother.”

“I will be a loving uncle to any child she might bear.”

“Is that enough for you?” Hvitserk’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Are you trying to have Margrethe all for yourself? I thought you said you weren’t jealous.”

“I’m not. I just want to make sure that you understand what you’re giving up. A princess, children, lands and a title.” Hvitserk scoffed “All of these are good things, things that you should strive to have.” Ubbe persisted.

“I don’t want to stay here and rule, I want to go home.”

“And Sigurd doesn’t want that?”

“He’s itching to get away from the memory of our mother, and from Ivar. He thinks this is his chance to show himself superior to our twisted little brother.” Ubbe pursed his lips.

“You shouldn’t say such things.”

“It’s not like he can hear…”

“He is family, and we shouldn’t speak about family in that way.” Ubbe said firmly.

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Floki tore off a piece of meat and stuffed it in his mouth. Ivar hadn’t come to see him after his return from Rhodri, and it shocked him. Floki had expected him to show up at the tent almost immediately, with plans for how to get their hands on the next man on Ylva’s list. It seemed that there were other things occupying the prince’s mind now. Floki had heard from one of the shieldmaidens that Ivar and Ylva had been fighting, and that Ivar had taken his rage out on some of Rhodri’s possessions. But they had reconciled and seemed closer than ever. Floki studied Helga, who was sitting behind Tanaruz and braiding her hair. If she saw Tanaruz, and previously Ylva, as her daughters then he considered Ivar his son. Or at least very close to a son. Maybe it was for the best that Ivar had stayed away. In his absence, Helga had started to warm up to Floki again. Last night she’d even let him into their bed again, allowed him to touch her. But not even all of Helga’s love could change the fact that he had been pushed aside by his dead friend’s son. And soon Björn would be leaving him too. Ironside was already itching to move on; Ecbert wasn’t even dead yet, the army hadn’t reached Wessex, and Björn spoke about his plans for going on another raid to the Mediterranean once he had avenged his father. So Floki had to decide: stay with Ivar, even though he might not ever hold the same place in the boy’s heart again, even though it might strain his marriage even more. Or he could go with Björn, and build boats that would take him further than any Viking had gone before. Of course, this meant that he would have to leave Ivar behind. Floki still believed in what he had said to Helga; Ragnar’s youngest son was the one that needed him the most, whether he realized it or not.

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Blaeja curiously studied the way Ivar behaved around Ylva. She had heard stories around the camp, and she had seen the way he acted around his brothers. He was, by all accounts, a short-tempered and cruel man. But not around Ylva. He still had an aura of impatience and would sometimes sulk when things didn’t go his way. But his eyes softened, his japes came out more light-hearted and he would sometimes carefully touch Ylva’s hand or leg. Blaeja understood that the only reason Ivar had agreed to help her, was because this skinny and tormented girl wanted him to. Well, maybe the possibility that it would annoy his brothers played a part in it too.

“And King Harald Finehair and his brother, Halfdan the Black, they wanted to overthrow my father. Harald wishes to be king of Norway, so if you are to marry one of my brothers you will need to keep an eye on those two. They will want to rid themselves of all Ragnar’s heirs so that no one can challenge their rise to the throne.” Ivar tried to speak as clearly as he could, but Ylva still had to help with translating when he forgot a word or pronounced something in such a crude way that Blaeja didn’t understand. The two young women had spent most of the day honing their language skills. After they had eaten a lighter meal at midday, Ivar had joined them to share what he knew about the different leaders. Now, Ylva stood up and said that she needed to relieve herself. As soon as she had slipped outside, Ivar’s posture changed. He placed his elbows on the table and leaned in. He started speaking in a low voice, the words came out slow and some of them were barely intelligible. But Blaeja certainly understood the essence of his words.

“You, and any children you might have, won’t be safe just because you are across the sea. In the future, you might find yourself thinking that surrendering yourself to Harald and his brother is a good opportunity to rid yourself of a husband that you never wanted, and a way to spare the lives of both yourself and your children.” Blaeja grabbed on to the armrests of her chair and tried to steady her hands, uncomfortable with the sudden change in Ivar. “But don’t forget, little princess, that they too will want Northumbria. Halfdan will kill your children, then he will take you as his wife so that he can have his own offspring seated on the Saxon throne one day. And since Ylva is connected to me, she will be dead and buried, no longer able to protect you. So I advise you to stay loyal to my family, for your own good.” He glanced at her, noticing her trembling hands and her rapid blinking.

“Do not look so frightened, Blaeja. I thought you were a fighter.” Ivar seemed both amused and disappointed.

“Maybe you are mistaken.” She whispered in return.

“I was there when you asked to see your brother one last time. I saw you walk to Björn, head held high. And I heard you taking lessons from Ylva. Why would you do these things if you didn’t intend on making the best of the situation, hmm? You accepted that you couldn’t stop Rhodri from giving you away, and then you decided that you are going to do whatever you can to not perish here. You decided to fight.” Blaeja wasn’t sure how to respond to this, and Ivar seemed satisfied with his comments, so they stayed in silence until Ylva returned. Ylva had just slumped back down in her chair when they were interrupted.

“Princess!” Sigurd strode inside, closely followed by Eadgar. Sigurd stopped abruptly when he saw Ivar sitting at the table.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was asked to come, so I did.” Sigurd looked as if he had more to say on the matter, but he bit his tongue and asked Eadgar to translate.

“Princess Blaeja, come with me to the main tent. My brother and I have reached a decision and are going to speak to Björn.” Blaeja composed herself. She locked eyes with the blonde man and nodded.

“I will come. Thank you for escorting me.” Blaeja stood up and smoothed the fabric of her dress. She glanced at her two teachers and smiled softly as she spoke in their language “Thank you for the lessons. I hope we can continue some other time.” Ylva beamed with pride. Ivar tilted his head to the side and watched as the princess followed his brother and the priest. Just before they disappeared, he called out to Blaeja.

“Your pronunciation is getting better.” Her cheeks flushed red, she wasn’t sure how to react when his mood switched back and forth like this. So she briefly bowed her head and then continued walking.

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“I think it is best if Sigurd teaches you from now on, so that you two can spend some time together before the wedding.”

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to offend but…Ylva is nearly fluent, it will be much easier for me to learn with her and Eadgar as my teachers.” Sigurd saw Björn clench his jaw and decided to speak up before his brother did something to scare the girl.

“What if all three of us were to help Blaeja? If I am to stay here, I need to learn the Saxon’s language as well. We could teach each other.” Björn took a few seconds to consider his brother’s words.

“I suppose that could work. What do you say?” He asked Blaeja. She would’ve preferred being alone with Ylva, there were so many questions that she wanted answered in private. But I’m not a prisoner, not truly. No one has forbidden me from leaving my tent and speaking to her, Blaeja thought to herself.

“I agree.” She answered.

“I have one condition.” Sigurd let his eyes sweep across the room before locking on to Blaeja. The strange mark in his eye made her want to look away, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. Hell, if she could keep herself from breaking down when Ivar spoke about potential threats in her future, then simply looking at her soon-to-be husband shouldn’t be that difficult.

“Ivar can’t be there.” Björn furrowed his brows and asked something that Blaeja didn’t understand. Sigurd leaned towards his brother and muttered something. She picked up a few of the words and realized that Sigurd was telling Björn about how he had found Ivar partaking in the lesson earlier. Blaeja saw Hvitserk’s face twist into a confused expression and Björn’s features set into a scowl. The tension was rising at an alarming rate.

“I accept that condition. He won’t join us.” Blaeja said hurriedly. Sigurd sat back in his chair again.

“Then I will come find you tomorrow. But for now, I want Eadgar to accompany you to the seamstress, you’ll need something to wear at the ceremony.”

 

 

Chapter 19: Can I see?

Ylva woke up in the middle of the night. Something’s wrong. Her stomach was hurting, as well as her head, and she felt nauseous.

“Ivar.” She whispered and pushed at his shoulder. He stirred but didn’t wake up. Ylva fought back the sick that was rising in her throat. She pushed at him again, harder this time. He finally woke up.

“What is it?” He asked, startled. When Ivar saw her face he sat right up. Ylva’s face had a greyish hue and her skin looked clammy.

“I think I might be sick.” She whimpered. She swayed back and forth for a few seconds, before leaning out from the bed and vomiting on the ground. Ivar quickly grabbed on to her hair and held it out of the way while she continued retching. Once she had stopped Ivar moved so that he sat on the edge of the bed. He coaxed her to lie down again and reached for a pitcher of water. His hands trembled as he cleaned her lips and face. Then he found his clothes and started pulling them on. His heart pounded with worry.

“I will go find Floki.” Ylva only nodded, her eyes closed. Ivar crawled outside, moving rapidly towards his teacher’s tent. He hadn’t bothered with putting on his boots and he could already feel his feet growing numb in the cold. As soon as his destination came within eyesight, Ivar started calling out.

“Floki! Floki!” He heard annoyed groans and clamour from the surrounding tents, but so far nothing from the boatbuilder. Someone poked their head out of their tent and looked as if he was ready to start a fight with whoever was screaming at this hour. The man opened his mouth, undoubtedly about to utter a long string of profanity. But when he saw that it was Ivar he quickly ducked back inside. Ivar continued screaming at the top of his lungs as he moved closer. More and more people came outside, looking both confused and annoyed. Finally, Floki came rushing to meet Ivar, dressed only in loose fitting pants.

“What is wrong?” Helga stepped out behind him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Ylva is sick. She woke me up and then she started vomiting.” Floki immediately ran back inside and pulled a shirt over his head, then he started grabbing whatever herbs and concoctions he could find. Ivar still needed him; if not for his own sake, then at the very least for Ylva’s. Ivar raked his fingers on the ground as he tried to calm himself; he had already seen her sick once and that was more than enough. Floki and Helga came running, each with their arms full of different remedies, cloths and even some small tools. Ivar prayed that they wouldn’t have to use any of the sharp tools, he feared that the experience might bring back more memories of her time in captivity. As they passed him, Floki slowed down and waited for Ivar to catch up.

“Go.” Ivar growled and crawled after them as fast as he could. Floki started running again, following Helga. When Ivar came back to the tent, Helga was standing next to the empty bed while Floki hovered over Ylva and asked her questions. Ivar crawled up to the bed and pulled himself up so that he could stroke her hair. His fingers were muddy from having clawed at the ground and he left streaks of dirt in her hair and on her skin.

“Do you have a fever?” Floki placed his hand on her forehead. He furrowed his brow, her temperature didn’t seem higher than normal. “Are you hurting?”

“Mm.”

“Where?” Ylva gestured to her head and her stomach. When Helga saw Ylva’s movements she stepped forward.

“I think I know what it is. Let me see.” Floki moved out of Helga’s way and she sat down on the bed next to Ylva. She lifted the covers and let out a sigh when she saw the spot of blood at the front of Ylva’s tunic.

“She’s having her monthly blood.” Ivar’s mouth fell open and he let out a small Oh and Floki bit his lip. Helga let go of the covers “I’m guessing for the first time?”

“Yes.” Ylva whispered.

“That is not strange. It often disappears when one becomes too thin, it is not uncommon among slaves that have been made to work harder than their bodies can handle. Since you’ve been near starved, you never had it. Now that your body is healthier it will start.” Ivar was clearly upset.

“Is it supposed to be this bad?” He shot at Helga. She took a few seconds to calm herself, thinking that engaging in a screaming match would not help anyone.

“It is different for each woman, Ivar. Some hardly notice it, and others…” She gestured at Ylva. Floki could tell that her answer had only made Ivar more upset, so he hurried to speak.

“You know, there are things that could help her.” Ivar’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell me.” He demanded. Ylva winced at the loud noise.

“Don’t yell so close to my ear, it only makes my head feel worse.” She complained. Ivar’s face softened ever so slightly and he pressed his lips to her forehead as an apology, but his gaze kept switching between Floki and Helga.

“Let us start by getting some water so that she can clean up, hmm?” Helga picked a piece of cloth that she had brought with her and reached for the water pitcher. Ivar swiftly grabbed it and held it out of her reach.

“Tell me what to do. I can take care of it.” Helga looked over at her husband, who only nodded.

“Let him do it.” Of course he would agree with Ivar. She bit the inside of her cheek and reluctantly gave Ivar the cloth.

“Let her clean up, bring her new clothes. Make sure she drinks enough water and keep her warm, maybe wrap an extra blanket around her hips and stomach. Floki can give her something to help her sleep through the night, and hopefully she will feel better soon.” Helga stood up. “I’m going to get some cloth pads.” She left them.

“Floki, can you find something for her to wear? Her clothes are right over there.” Ivar pointed to the pile. He had tried to convince Ylva to stove them away in of the trunks, but she insisted on leaving them spread out on the empty bed. He thought she liked being able to pick them up and look at them whenever she wanted to. It was as if she couldn’t quite believe that they not only were hers, but actually made for her. While Floki rifled through the pile, Ivar helped Ylva so that she could sit on the edge of the bed. She made sure that Floki wasn’t looking, then pulled the tunic over her head and handed it to Ivar. She quickly wrapped a blanket around herself and waited for him to give her the cloth. Ivar poured some water onto it and handed it over. Ylva shifted carefully and spread her legs. The discomfort shone clear in her face as she moved to wash the blood away from her thighs and Ivar soothed her by rubbing her legs and pressing his lips to her knees. Floki glanced over his shoulder and saw Ivar caring for Ylva. The corners of his mouth instantly jerked upwards into a sheepish smile and he let out small giggle. The boy really loathed seeing her in pain. Helga returned with the cloth pads and placed them on the bed next to Ylva.

“Remind her to wash them properly.” Ylva bared her teeth when Helga spoke. Floki tossed a pair of pants and a shirt to Ivar, and held out his hand to show the small vial that he was holding. Then he put the vial on the bed and snaked an arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her with him outside before she could say something more. Ivar cocked his head to the side and looked up at Ylva.

“Does she bother you?” She grimaced and threw the bloodied cloth to the side.

“She always speaks over me, like I’m a child. She didn’t even try to tell me what to do to feel better, she just assumed that I would let her take care of me. Then she spoke only to you, and she told you to remind me. It is exactly what she did when I had the fever. You are too sick to make any decisions, so I am going to make them for you.” Ivar nodded.

“You are a free woman and the companion of a prince. They have no right.” He kissed her knees again before picking up the pants and guiding her feet into the openings. Ylva dragged her fingers over his scalp as a reward for his gentle actions before picking up the shirt and pulling it on.

“Get under the covers. I will clean up and then join you.” Ylva took one of the pads and placed it inside her pants before pulling them up and lacing them. Ivar pulled out a small shovel from one of the trunks and started scraping up the vomit. He tossed it outside and drove the shovel into the ground. After he had retrieved the vial he pulled himself into bed. Ylva jumped when his cold feet touched against her legs. She shot him an angry look and he couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

“You’re supposed to take care of me.” She hissed. Ivar grabbed on to the bottom blanket and adjusted it so that it was wrapped around her hips.

“There you go.” He cooed “Now drink this.” Ylva took the vial from him and downed its content in one gulp. Ivar wet his thumb and started rubbing away the muddy lines he had left at her temple. The sleeping draught did its work; she was soon fast asleep.

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It was early in the morning and most of the Vikings had just finished eating breakfast.

“She is resting. Eadgar and Sigurd will have to do.” Ivar explained to Blaeja. Ylva was supposed to have shown up for the lesson nearly half an hour ago, but when she didn’t Blaeja had come looking for her. Sigurd and Eadgar stood behind the princess, shifting uncomfortably. Blaeja looked hesitant at the idea of not having Ylva by her side.

“Are you that nervous about spending time with your intended husband?” Ivar asked in a low voice. “Don’t worry, the priest will be there to make sure that he behaves.” Blaeja blushed and glanced over her shoulder to see if Sigurd had heard. Judging by his face, he had. His eyes darkened as he looked at his younger brother.

“Come, Blaeja, it is time we started.” Sigurd took her hand in his and motioned for her to follow him. Blaeja fought off the urge to step back and pull her hand away from him.

“Tell Ylva that I wish to speak with her when she feels better.” She murmured before following Sigurd.

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Sigurd’s touch had been surprisingly gentle, as if he was doing his best not to scare her. They sat down at the table in her tent and started the lesson. Blaeja taught him some basic phrases while she practiced on their runes. They had been at it for hours when Sigurd suddenly changed the topic.

“Why do you cover your hair and face like that?” The question came out of nowhere. Blaeja reached a hand up to touch the white shawl and exchanged a look with Eadgar before answering.

“To show that I am pure.”

“You mean that you haven’t laid with anyone?” His words made Blaeja turn almost as red as her dress and Eadgar looked very upset.

“Of course she hasn’t.” The normally very timid priest piped up, but when Sigurd stared at him he hurried to add “my prince” and averted his gaze.

“What does that have to do with covering yourself like that? Do you Christians only touch someone’s hair after you have bedded them?”

“Well, no. That’s not entirely true.” Blaeja said, not sure how to explain it, and he didn’t give her the time to try anyway.

“Can I see?” He didn’t wait for her response. Sigurd reached out and let the tips of his fingers hook themselves around the edge off the thin fabric. Blaeja instinctively pushed her chair further away from him. Sigurd let go and pulled back. While he held his hands up to show that he wasn’t going to hurt her, she hurried to adjust the shawl that had become slightly askew. Sigurd’s pride seemed to have taken a hit by her reaction and he dropped his eyes back to the scroll in front of him. Eadgar looked on, horrified but not surprised. Pagans.

“We only touch someone’s hair if we are very close. Is it not the same for your people?” Blaeja asked, trying to diffuse some of the tension.

“Not really. We usually don’t walk up to strangers and ask to braid their hair” He said with a smile that made Blaeja relax again. “but we don’t shy away from touching someone’s hair when embracing them, when celebrating a victory or when jesting with people. Björn quite likes to yank at our hair, to remind us that we are still his baby brothers.”

“Oh, I haven’t noticed that. I’ve only seen what Ivar is like with Ylva. She told me that he cut her hair and it seemed to be something very special for them so I assumed you had a similar approach as we do.” It was as if she had put out a candle. Sigurd’s smile disappeared and his jaw tensed. His eyes were a lighter blue than Ivar’s and they didn’t radiate with near constant anger and arrogance. But that mark, it gave him a strange look and Blaeja couldn’t decide if it made him more interesting or just scarier. She wanted to ask him why he had it, but she could tell that this was not the time to do so.

“I think you’ll find that everything is quite special when it comes to my brother and his companion.” He returned to study Eadgar’s scrolls and spent the rest of the lesson in complete silence.

Chapter 20: Ask me nicely

”Is it too long? Can you walk in it?” Hildur asked in broken Anglo-Saxon. Blaeja took a few tentative steps around the tent, under the watchful eyes of both Hildur and Ylva.

“I think it will work just fine. Thank you, Hildur.” She said while running her fingers along the fabric.

“You look beautiful. Doesn’t she, Ylva?” Ylva nodded in agreement. “Sigurd will go mad with want once he sees you like this.” Hildur continued. Ylva gave Hildur a warning look, but it was too late: she saw a look of horror flash over Blaeja’s face. Hildur noticed it too and tried to smooth over her statement.

“Oh no, forget what I said. Don’t listen to me I‘m just an old woman, blabbering on…” But her words seemed to have no effect. Blaeja shivered violently. She started clawing at the dress, trying desperately to get out of it. Her chest heaved in panic and Hildur tried to take her hands and calm her. Just then, Sigurd stepped inside.

“Blaeja, I…”

“Get out.” Ylva growled. He paused and looked at the scene in front of him. Blaeja had his back to him but it was obvious that something was wrong. She was shaking uncontrollably and gave up distressed noises while the seamstress wrapped an arm around her and whispered something. Ylva looked furious.

“Get out!” She screamed at him. Sigurd ignored Ylva and took a few steps forward, but before he could reach Blaeja she glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Please, Sigurd…” She was on the verge of tears. Her plea made him stop in his tracks. Sigurd hesitated for a few seconds. Then he lowered his eyes and walked back outside. Blaeja finally managed to free herself of the dress and slumped to the ground. Ylva and Hildur sat down next to her and tried to calm her as best as they could.

“Will it hurt?” Blaeja managed to get out between her sobs. She lifted her head slightly to look at Ylva. “Will it hurt when he…” Ylva bit her lip. How the hell am I supposed to answer this? I don’t exactly have the best frame of reference for first times.

“I don’t know Blaeja, my first time wasn’t exactly pleasant. I can only tell you that sometimes it hurts with Ivar, but not in a bad way and only for a short while.” Hildur cupped Blaeja’s face and used her thumb to wipe away the tears.

“Listen, princess. It will hurt, but not that horribly. You might feel a bit sore, but it will get easier.” Ylva stroked Blaeja’s hair while the older woman spoke “Sigurd is not a bad man. He listened to you just now, didn’t he? So if you tell him that you are afraid and that he has to be careful not to hurt you, he will accept that. Tell him that he can’t just force his way into you, say that he needs to make sure you are ready first.” Hildur said kindly. They sat in silence for several minutes, soothing the young woman with gentle touches.

“There will be witnesses, right?” Blaeja asked once she had calmed down a bit.

“Yes.” Hildur said.

“Can you do that?” She whispered.

“Of course. There will probably be at least one more person, but we will be there. Is there anyone in particular that you would like us to bring?” Blaeja shook her head.

“Someone that you approve of.” She murmured and wrapped her arms around her body. She only had an underdress on and the cold was giving her goose bumps.

“We will find someone. And I swear to you, that if I hear him hurting you I will not hesitate to intervene.” Ylva said firmly. Blaeja took Ylva’s hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you.” She pulled Ylva in for an intense embrace. Once they had let go of each other, she let her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two women. The young girl looked deeply ashamed of what she was about to say.

“How do I get ready for him?”

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Sigurd sat down next to his brothers.

“What did she say?”

“I didn’t get a chance to speak with her, Ylva started yelling at me and then Blaeja asked me to leave.” Björn stopped what he was doing.

“What happened?”

“Blaeja was panicking, I interrupted as Ylva and Hildur tried to calm her down. I figured that, since we are to live together, I should help them.” Sigurd let out a sigh and rubbed his face. “It seems that my betrothed is terrified of me.”

“Reasonable, considering what we did to her father and her countrymen.” Ubbe chimed in. He stretched his legs out on the ground “You will simply have to prove to her that you’re not going to hurt her.”

“How am I supposed to do that when she has Ylva whispering in her ear every waken hour?” Sigurd snapped. Hvitserk, Ubbe and Björn all rolled their eyes, knowing that Ivar wouldn’t be able to stop himself from joining in now.

“Are you saying that this is all Ylva’s fault?” Ivar asked in feigned confusion.

“It is no secret that she doesn’t like me.” Sigurd said through gritted teeth.

“Remind me why she doesn’t like you, Sigurd? Is it because of something you did, hmm?” Ivar raised his eyebrows almost impossibly high.

“I have apologized for that already. You have turned her against me. She fawns over you like a fool and will share any opinion you may have.” Sigurd hissed.

“Oh no, brother. You made this happen all by yourself. Poor little Sigurd, can’t handle his emotions when he drinks. Does it bother you that she finds a cripple more appealing than you?” Ivar taunted.

“It baffles me that she would choose you over anyone, seeing as you’re a cruel little man that can’t even take her.” Sigurd rose to his feet as he spoke, his face red with anger. Ivar simply smirked at his brother’s words.

“Can’t I? You are most welcome to come to our tent some night and watch.”

“Enough you two.” Björn snarled while Ubbe shook his head at Ivar. But he kept going.

“Maybe you will learn something that could come in handy on your wedding night. Do you think that’s what Blaeja is afraid of, that you won’t know what you are doing?”

“I said enough!” Björn roared and stood up suddenly, towering over both Ivar and Sigurd. “Ubbe, you take care of him.” He growled and gestured to Ivar. Then he grabbed on to Sigurd’s arm and dragged him away.

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Ylva could see Ubbe talking to Ivar from a distance. When Ivar noticed her he simply looked past Ubbe, right at her. The older brother noticed that he was distracted and turned to see what had caused it. As soon as she came within talking distance, Ubbe cleared his throat.

“I think you need to go speak with Sigurd, Ylva.”

“About what?”

“He was upset to notice that the princess isn’t exactly over the moon about this marriage, and he thinks it is your fault.” Ivar said with an expression that could only be interpreted as my brother is an idiot. Ylva scoffed in annoyance.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Then why did you send him away when he tried to talk to Blaeja?” Ubbe asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Because he wouldn’t be able to calm her down in that situation. I did what I had to do for Blaeja to be comfortable so that she dared tell us what was wrong. Having Sigurd there would only have made her close up. Hildur and I have spent quite some time trying to convince her that Sigurd won’t treat her like a slave, but like his respected wife.” Ubbe tried to interrupt but Ylva’s blood had begun to boil with anger so she pressed on “Before it was even announced which brother she would marry, she asked me about them. So I told her what I knew. And yes I said that Sigurd has been rude to me but I also said that he has apologized and that I don’t think that he will ever harm her intentionally. He has quite the nerve if he accuses me of sabotaging this, when in reality I’m the one trying to keep Blaeja from drowning herself so that she can get out of this arrangement.” She spat the last words out, as her whole body trembled with anger. Ubbe had taken a step back as the emotion in her voice had grown stronger. Now he blinked rapidly, not sure what to say. Ivar let his gaze slowly work its way over Ylva’s face. Gods, she’s perfect. So beautiful, so strong. She doesn’t beg, she demands; as it should be…except when she’s with me. Ylva met his gaze, noticing the lustful look in his eyes. He smiled darkly at her and thought to himself that maybe he could make her beg tonight.

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The sun had set when Ylva left her meeting with Sigurd. She felt exhausted after having explained to him what she and Blaeja discussed when they were alone. He had been completely dumbfounded by what Ylva told him.

“I knew she wasn’t excited about it, but I didn’t think she was this afraid.” He had murmured, looking almost as panicked as the princess. Ylva had sighed at his apparent naivety.

“You’ll have time for at least one more lesson before the wedding. Try not to scare her even more.” She hoped he would actually think before he acted and not try to pull at Blaeja‘s shawl again.

Ylva couldn’t wait to curl up in bed and let Ivar hold her. I hope he’s in bed already, warming the covers. When she finally got back to their tent she could see him lying on his side, his back turned to the opening. Ylva thought he was asleep and moved carefully towards the bed. She stopped to put out the lantern that he had left on the table, but just as she leaned in Ivar spoke up.

“Let it burn.” He turned to face her. She could see most of his well-shaped upper body in the lantern’s light and for a second she lost track of what she was doing. His face shone with mischief.

“I want to see you properly.” He patted on the covers. Ylva sat down at the edge of the bed, heat already spreading through her body. Ivar sat up and pulled her in for a kiss. It had gone almost four days since he’d had her and the kiss grew much deeper than he had first intended. But he reminded himself of what he wanted to do and managed to pull back. Ylva groaned when he let go of her and laid back down.

“Take off your clothes.” Ylva could see his hands move under the cover as she undressed. Ivar stroked his length, letting out a hiss and increasing his pace when Ylva pulled the shirt over her head so that he could see her breasts. She noticed his reaction and hurried to cross her arms over her chest, and looked away with feigned shyness.

“Don’t bother with that, we both know it’s just an act.” He grunted. She let her arms fall to her sides again and shrugged her shoulders.

“Worth a try.” She said with a smile. She pulled her pants down and then sat still, waiting for Ivar to give new instructions. He let go of himself and lifted the covers.

“Lie on your stomach.” Ylva obeyed. As soon as she had laid down, she could feel Ivar moving so that he was hovering above her. He used one hand to hold himself up and the other to brush away her hair out of the way. She made a small, happy noise when he started trailing kisses down her spine. Ivar sometimes let his teeth graze against her skin, but he took great care not to let them touch against any of the scars. I’ve already made that mistake once.

“Ivar, now.” Ylva moaned and tried to turn on her back. Ivar used his weight and the hand at her neck to keep her in place.

“Patience.” He cooed and continued making his way down her back. She cursed but stopped squirming. Ivar reached her left buttock and bit down. Ylva twitched under him and let out a surprised gasp. He repeated the procedure while Ylva struggled to stay still under him, this time ending it with biting down on her right buttock instead. He spent a few seconds stroking her hair before whispering in her ear.

“On your back.” He let go of her and pushed himself up so that Ylva could turn. She immediately reached out for him and tried to pull him closer to her. Ivar leaned out of her reach.

“Hands behind your head.” Her eyes widened but she did as he said. Ivar lowered his body again, letting his warm skin touch against hers. He nuzzled her breasts and muttered something about how Ylva had tried to hide them from him. Ylva’s breath was getting heavier by the second, and when she felt his hand slide up her leg she started panting desperately. She moved one hand from behind her head and tried to grab Ivar’s wrist, hoping that he would let her guide it between her legs. But Ivar retracted his exploring hand and lifted his head up. Ylva whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Hands behind your head.” He commanded. She sulked but realized that there was no point in arguing. Ivar didn’t move an inch until her hand was safely tucked behind her head again. He returned to the beginning of his movements, with his head nuzzling at her breasts and his fingers exploring her leg, starting at her knee.

“Every time you do something like that, I’m going to stop. And once you’ve corrected your behaviour, I’m going to start over.” He explained in a low voice. Ylva hissed angrily.

“Hiss all you want, that’s not going to change anything.” His fingers had reached the curls between her legs. Ivar let his middle finger slide over her folds and let out a sigh as Ylva lifted her hips to press against his hand.

“I feel that you are ready.” She nodded eagerly, not trusting in her ability to speak at the moment. Ivar finally seemed to listen to her wishes. He slowly pressed a finger inside her. Ylva moaned and tried to squirm further down on his hand. Ivar found one of her nipples with his mouth and started alternating between pulling at it with his lips and letting his tongue sweep over it. Ylva forgot his instructions and grabbed on to his hair. She didn’t realize what she had done until he pulled back again, leaving her aching for more of him inside her. She cursed at him, loudly and fervently.

“I’ve already told you, that’s not going to help.” Her chest heaved as she looked at him, agitated by his actions. Her arms trembled when she lifted them behind her head again. She closed her eyes but Ivar immediately clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Look at me.” Her eyes flew open. Her face showed a mix of frustration, anger and arousal. Now that she followed the instructions again, Ivar resumed his work. When she succeeded with keeping her hands to herself, and her eyes open, Ivar rewarded her with another finger. The sensation of him curling his fingers inside her pushed her dangerously close to the edge and she shut her eyes again. When she felt him starting to retract his hand she opened them again.

“No, no, no.” She panted. Ivar paused for a moment, still partially inside her. He placed a kiss on her collarbone.

“I will let you finish…” He found her clit with his thumb “if you ask me nicely.” Ylva made a low whining noise.

“Whimpering doesn’t count.” Ivar warned. She tried to compose herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

“Please, Ivar. I’m begging you, please…” Her desperate plea made Ivar smile.

“Of course, sweet Ylva.” He pressed his fingers back inside and continued the curling motions, while letting his thumb draw small circles. He leaned his head down so that he could reach her nipples again. This time he treated them much more roughly, nipping at them and tugging with his mouth in every possible direction. Ylva soon felt the warmth radiate through her entire body, more intense than it had ever been before. She moaned his name in warning and then let go, not paying any mind to his instructions anymore. She dug her nails deep into his hair and screamed out her pleasure while pressing herself onto his hand. Ivar continued moving his calloused fingers until Ylva had settled down enough to reach for his hand and pull it away. He laid down next to her.

“Are you completely mad?” She rasped, her entire being seeming dishevelled by what had just happened. Ivar chuckled and curled up next to her, beyond proud of himself.

“Go to sleep now, I imagine you are tired.”

Chapter 21: Gentle

Blaeja filled her hands with water and scrubbed her face clean. Somewhere in the camp Sigurd is doing the same thing, his brothers watching over him and guiding him. Ylva helped her rinse her hair while Hildur took to making a small wreath of flowers that Blaeja would wear like a crown. Once Blaeja had scrubbed herself, head to toe, Hildur wrapped her in a towel and tasked Ylva with brushing the princess’s hair. When every knot in her long, dark hair had been untangled, they helped her dress. Hildur insisted on adding some colour to Blaeja’s lips and lining her eyes.

“Look.” Hildur reached for a mirror and held it up so that the bride could study her appearance. Blaeja watched her reflection as she slid her hand over the white dress, rubbing carefully against the purple details on the sleeves and at the waist. Her hair hung loose for the first time in years, at least in public, and Ylva gingerly placed the wreath on her head. Blaeja swept a finger over her face, pausing for a moment at her now coloured-in lips. She thought of how Sigurd had pressed his mouth to hers yesterday and shuddered at the memory. At the beginning of their lesson yesterday, Ylva had taken it upon herself to wait for Eadgar outside the tent and distract him for a while, so that Sigurd and Blaeja could have a moment alone. He had apologized for scaring her and for not thinking before he tried to touch her.

“I shouldn’t have disrespected you like that.” He had said with his head bowed. He had sounded genuinely sorry, and she had accepted his apology. Then Sigurd had raised his head again and looked at her, hesitating before he spoke.

“Will you let me kiss you?”

“What?”

“I want to show you that you don’t have to be afraid of me. And we are to be married tomorrow, I think it is good if we have kissed once before so that we don’t look like fools at the ceremony.” Blaeja had looked at the entrance behind him.

“Eadgar is right outside. If you scream he will come running instantly, not to mention what Ylva would do. There’s no chance I could do something.” He had said with a wink. Blaeja had felt her cheeks heat up.

“Fine. You may kiss me.” Sigurd got up and moved to the other side of the table. He had stood in front of her and leaned down. It had taken all of Blaeja’s willpower not to push him away.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He had whispered, right before closing the distance between them. He was so much warmer than she had expected. The fair skin, light eyes, blonde hair, and even the blue shades of his clothing had always made her think of ice and snow; but she had been wrong. At first, she just sat there and let him press his lips to hers. After a few seconds, Sigurd had started to pull back but just then she leaned forward and reciprocated the pressure. Voices could be heard just outside the tent, coming closer. They pulled apart and Sigurd hurried to sit down in his chair again. It had only lasted for a second, but it was all the reassurance he needed: Blaeja had kissed him back. He was going to earn her trust.

The feeling of Hildur’s hand on her shoulder shook her from the daydream.

“It’s time to go.”

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Everyone watched as Blaeja poured mead for her and her husband. She reached her arms out towards Sigurd and recited a short verse, wishing for him to be healthy and strong. He took the cup from her hands and moved his fingers in a gesture over it before making his toast. The sign of Thor, Hildur had explained, and a toast to Odin. Then it was Blaeja’s turn to drink. Sigurd handed her the cup and she dedicated her toast to Freyja, stumbling a bit on the foreign words. After she had taken a sip, the crowd broke out in cheers. Now the newlyweds were one step closer to having their marriage validated. Only one more step, Blaeja thought. Desperate to have something else occupy her mind, she filled her plate and focused on savouring all the different tastes. She chewed and swallowed carefully, so as to not further upset her stomach. Ubbe noticed how her hands trembled. He yanked at Sigurd’s hair, interrupting the conversation between the groom and Björn.

“Sigurd, why don’t you go get your lute and play something for your wife? A wedding needs music.” Sigurd shuffled to his feet and hurried away. As soon as he was gone, Ubbe leaned in closer to the princess.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him. He will be good to you.” The rest of the Ragnarssons, Ylva, Floki and Helga heard him speak. They all fell silent and waited for Blaeja’s answer. She took a deep breath.

“Everyone keeps saying that. Soon I will find out if it’s true.” Ylva reached for Blaeja’s hand and held it tightly until Sigurd returned with his lute. They let go of each other as Sigurd closed in on the table. He stood in front of it, turning to smile at Blaeja, before he started playing. It didn’t take long before he had the attention of the crowd and they started clapping along. Ylva had been right when she said that he was well-liked by the people, Blaeja could see that now. He had barely finished one song before they started shouting out requests for what he should play next. Some of them rose to their feet and started dancing to the tunes. Blaeja couldn’t stop herself from smiling when she saw her husband doing a silly little dance to amuse the crowd. Ylva’s heart swelled with happiness as she saw Blaeja’s face light up. She will be fine. Sigurd continued like this for the better part of an hour.

“Please, allow me to rest! It is my wedding feast and I’ve barely had time to taste the food.” He finally called out. He slumped down in his chair next to Blaeja, out of breath, and drained his cup in one swift move.

“He is very good, is he not?” Ubbe asked kindly.

“Yes, he is.” Blaeja responded. Sigurd helped himself to some of the food and leaned back in the chair.

“Maybe you can teach me some of your Saxon melodies, so that I can play them for you.”

“I would like that.” And to Sigurd’s surprise she placed her hand over his. The hours flew by. Sigurd played some more, this time sitting next to Blaeja. He could sing too, maybe not as good as the men and women that sometimes performed at her father’s court but he certainly had a pleasant voice. Ivar had pulled Ylva into his lap, and she watched the newlyweds with a relieved expression. Then Björn stood up.

“It is time to lead husband and wife to their marriage bed.” Blaeja clenched her fists under the table. “Who will witness the bedding?”

“We will.” Ubbe, Hildur and Ylva answered in unison. Björn nodded.

“Hvitserk, bring out the torches.” Ylva turned to face Ivar and kissed him passionately. She could sense Helga’s annoyance but she ignored it. Her hand slid down to Ivar’s belt and found what she was looking for. She then quickly pulled back and rose to her feet, leaving Ivar flustered. Hildur and Ubbe stood next to her and received their lit torches. When it was Ylva’s time to take a torch, she discarded one of her crutches and was instead supported by Hildur’s free hand, crooked under her armpit. Ylva took the torch from Hvitserk and they waited in silence for Blaeja and Sigurd to rise from their seats. The couple stood up and began slowly walking through the aisles of tables. The witnesses followed closely and in complete silence. Blaeja wanted nothing more than to glance over her shoulder and receive a reassuring look from the two women that had gone above and beyond to help her. Knowing that the crowd could still see them, she forced herself to keep looking forward. Don’t look weak. The walk felt short, as if it had only been a few seconds. The witnesses placed their torches at the opening and then slipped behind the sheet that divided the tent in two parts. Ylva saw that someone had been kind enough to place a stool for her to sit on behind the sheet. Hildur helped her to sit down and she immediately started stroking her left sleeve, almost compulsively. Ubbe furrowed his brow at her strange behaviour but chose to ignore it. There were other things to focus on now. They sat there, listening to what transpired on the other side of the sheet. Once they heard Blaeja whimper and Ylva immediately slid her right hand up the sleeve of her dress, looking as if she was about to pull something out of it. Ubbe stepped closer to her. Then Sigurd said something in the foreign language and Ylva relaxed again. Soon they heard the young couple sitting down on the bed and Sigurd spoke again, saying something that made Ylva’s face soften.

“What is he saying?” Hildur whispered right in her ear. Working in the smithy had damaged the semstress hearing and she found it difficult to make out the words.

“He is asking how to make her relax and feel better.” They waited in silence for a long while, hearing Blaeja murmur something to Sigurd now and again and him soothing her. When they heard clothes being removed, followed by low moans Ubbe nodded.

“We can leave now.” Hildur helped Ylva to her feet again and they snuck outside.

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“There you are, woman!” Ivar exclaimed when he saw Ylva returning to the table, still supported by Hildur. When she was close enough he pulled her down on his lap. “I can’t find my knife, have you seen it?” By the way he spoke she could tell that he was quite deep in his cups. Ylva produced the knife from her sleeve and held it out for him to take. Ivar’s eyes widened and he took it from her.

“When did you take it? I had it on me when we sat down at the table.”

“You were distracted.”

“By what?” He asked with a furrowed brow. His confused, drunken state made him look so endearing, so vulnerable.

“By this.” She placed a finger under his chin and tilted his face up so that she could melt her lips to his. At first, Ivar eagerly reciprocated. Then he realized that her hand had wandered to the knife again and he pulled back, growling in warning.

“You’re becoming far too good at manipulating me.” Ylva smiled slyly “What did you need it for anyway?”

“It was in case your brother needed to be reminded to treat his wife well.”

“And did he need it?” Ivar asked while rubbing his hand over her leg. Ylva shook her head.

“No. I think they will be as happy as one can be in an arranged marriage.”

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Sigurd held Blaeja’s hand and led her to the bed. He had noticed her sudden change in behaviour and tried to comfort her by placing a hand on her back and carefully stroking it. She closed her eyes and let out the smallest whimper. Sigurd lifted a hand to her cheek, letting it warm her cold skin.

“Hush now, everything will be all right.” He said in Anglo-Saxon. Once she had calmed down a bit he let go of her and sat down on the bed.

“Come sit next to me.” Blaeja stared at the ground as she moved towards him. When she sat down he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, just as he had done the day before and then again at the ceremony. He pulled back again and took her hands in his, lifting them to his face and peppering them with kisses.

“Tell me how to make you feel more at ease.” He whispered between kisses, still speaking her language.

“I do not… I have never…” She sighed “you’re the first person to even kiss me.” She murmured in his ear. He let go of her hands and let his fingers brush through her hair instead.

“I assume that you have spoken to them about it?” He tilted his head in the direction of the sheet.

“Yes. But they said it’s not necessarily the same for everyone.”

“Then let us try whatever they told you and see how you react.” He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger “You’re letting me touch your hair, and you kissed me back. I do not think that you are completely repulsed by me.” Blaeja swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t look at him while saying this, so she moved closer and pressed her cheek to his. Then she whispered in his ear, repeating what Hildur and Ylva had told her. Sigurd listened attentively, all the while playing with her hair. When Blaeja fell silent again, he pulled back so that he could see her face properly.

“I will do my best. Let’s undress and lie under the covers. Here.” He took her hand and guided it to the ties of his tunic. Her fingers felt numb as she tugged at the strings. Soon his tunic fell to the ground, followed by the undershirt. Sigurd kicked his boots off as she watched in a trance. When all his clothes had been discarded, he pulled at the blankets to cover himself. He removed the wreath and then his hands reached for the lacing of her dress. She didn’t stop him. Sigurd’s fingers moved in a far more confident way than hers had.

“There.” He slid his hand down her now exposed back “Take it off and come lie next to me.” Blaeja complied but took great care to not expose herself to him completely. She kept her back turned to him as she undressed and then lifted the blanket so that it covered her front before she lied down. Sigurd gave her a moment to settle in before he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and waited for her permission. Blaeja took a deep breath and pushed his hand away. Then she pressed her lips to his. The eagerness with which she moved took him by surprise but he wasn’t about to complain. The kiss deepened as they let their tongues explore each other. He has been so kind to me, so gentle. He listened, like Hildur said he would. Blaeja moaned into his mouth and they broke apart for air.

“I will earn your trust, wife.” Sigurd murmured. Blaeja nodded at his statement, then she placed a hand at the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss.

Notes:

Inspiration for the wedding: http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/wedding.shtml

Chapter 22: Disciplining

Ivar’s mouth roamed eagerly over Ylva’s naked shoulder. Once they had retreated to their tent, he had made his intentions very clear. He had immediately pulled her into bed and opened her dress. Now he had her pinned under him. She mewled and tried to put her hand inside the pants that hung loosely on his hips. Ivar swatted it away and growled.

“Not yet. There’s something I need to do first.” He worked his way back from her shoulder and up to her mouth. She could feel the mead on his breath when he coaxed her mouth open, tasting it as he slipped his tongue in between her lips. Ylva wrapped her arms around his waist and tried pulling him closer, but he didn’t budge. When Ivar finally ended the kiss they were both panting. His eyes had a strange light in them.

“Turn.” He grunted and started tugging at her arms to make her move quicker. Ylva flipped over so that she was lying on her stomach. Ivar laid down next to her and traced his fingers down her spine. She hummed in pleasure.

“You stole from me.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Huh?” Ylva turned her head so that she could see him.

“You shouldn’t have taken my knife without asking.” He spoke with more authority now. He grabbed on to the blanket covering Ylva and pulled it away in one swift move, leaving her completely naked. Ylva shivered in the sudden cold, but she wanted to see where Ivar was going with this. At first he just continued tracing up and down her spine. Then, suddenly, Ivar started stroking her ass and she realized what it was that he needed to do. The blue in his eyes was almost completely swallowed by the black of his pupils. The first time he struck he was careful, testing to see how she would react. Ylva moaned and squirmed a bit, showing that he had her permission to continue. His lips parted slightly in excitement at her willingness to let him do this. The next blow was harder, resulting in a faint, stinging sensation. Ylva whimpered under his hungry gaze and he stroked his hand over the reddened area, soothing it.

“I’m sorry, Ivar. I thought you wouldn’t mind.” Crack. This one was even harder.

“I just wanted to borrow it.” She pleaded. He shot out his hand and grabbed on to her chin, forcing her to twist her neck even more to meet his stare.

“You may think that you can manipulate me, but I am not so easily fooled.” He leaned in to bite at her earlobe. “And now I must correct your behaviour.” Ivar pulled at her, one arm snaking under her chest to keep her close and the other rising into the air again. His pants had slipped down off his hips when he moved and Ylva could feel his cock swelling against her leg; growing harder with every blow he dealt and with every wail from her. She shuddered at the conflicting sensations; the painful stinging meeting and blending with the comfort of his strong arm wrapped around her and the warmth of his body. The more pleasant feelings appeared to only grow stronger by the conflict. It was intriguing, being with a man who didn’t simply hurt her, but did it in such a way that she enjoyed it. It must be because I trust him. I can give him control and know that he won’t abuse it. When Ivar dealt the hardest strike, Ylva cried out and Ivar groaned loudly. The hand that had dealt the blow quickly disappeared under the cover, making some tugging movement there. For a moment she thought he had reached his end as she felt him shudder and tighten his grip on her. She waited to feel him spill against her leg, but it never happened. Instead he sat up. She looked over her shoulder and realized that he was looking at the marks he had caused. He let out some strange, animalistic noise as he touched her buttocks carefully. Ivar turned to face Ylva. There was only one thing that could be said about his facial expression right now: smug. He laid on his back again and tugged at her until she was lying on top of him.

“Apologize. With your mouth.” Ylva started forming the words but he shook his head, a smirk spreading over his face.

“Sweet, innocent Ylva. That’s not what I meant.” He pushed at her shoulders, making her slide further down his body. “With your mouth.” Ivar repeated. Ylva blushed, she wanted to kick herself for misinterpreting his command. She nodded and scooted further down. She placed a kiss on his tip and swept her fingers over his dark curls. Ivar grunted impatiently. Ylva wrapped a hand around his base and let him in her mouth. He let out a moan as his length slipped past her lips. She let his tip rub against the roof of her mouth, making Ivar curse. It pleased her to know that she could make him feel like this.

“That’ssss it.” He hissed. Ivar reached for her; one hand became entangled in her hair and the other stroked the back of her head. He seemed satisfied with her apology, for the time being. But it didn’t take long before he demanded more. His fingers moved to the hand she had wrapped around his length and started prying at her grip.

“Let me go deeper.” Ylva hesitated at first, not sure if she would be able to handle it. But I’ve had practice since the first time. She removed her hand and let Ivar take control. I will try. He patted her head appreciatively. He tightened his grip on her hair and pressed further inside her mouth, going slow so that she had time to adjust. Ylva relaxed, it was easier than she had thought.

“So warm and wet.” Ivar groaned. He kept her head in place and started thrusting, slowly at first but then more eagerly as he could feel himself nearing completion. Then Ylva made some delicious, humming noise, and he could feel how her mouth vibrated around him. Ivar could’ve sworn he saw stars. He bucked his hips up one last time, threw his head back and let out a shocked gasp as his entire body spasmed. Once it had run its course, Ylva sat up and straddled him. She looked intently at him while she licked away the drops of seed that had started to trickle from the corner of her mouth.

“Do you like the way I apologize?” Ivar nodded, already coaxing her to lie down next to him.

“I love it.” He rasped. Ylva curled up next to him and put her head to rest on his chest. She avoided getting on her back, since his disciplining had left her sore. His chest rose and fell quickly, still not quite recovered from the intense climax. He reached an arm up, covering his eyes and most of his forehead with it. Ivar forced himself to take a deep breath.

“I love you.”

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“Are you hurt somewhere?” Blaeja asked, after having watched Ylva reposition over and over again for the last half hour. Ylva blushed at her question.

“Ah, it is…it is nothing.” Last night had been very emotional for her and Ivar, and she felt that it should stay between the two of them. It was hard not to think of it though, as she was reminded whenever she sat still for too long and every time the wagon hit a bump in the road. Now that the wedding was completed, and Eadgar had been sent back to report to Rhodri, the army was on the move once again. Wessex. That means Wigmund, and Ecbert. Maybe even Aethelwulf. Her hands trembled with excitement and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift away for a while and imagine what she would do to them. Blaeja woke her from her dreams.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes. I feel better than I ever have.” Ylva answered, a kind smile lighting up her face. “Now let us talk about how you are feeling: care to tell me what happened last night?” Her smile turned mischievous.

Notes:

It has been brought to my attention that there's some people in Ivar's heathen army that think spanking/choking is really hot, and I can only agree^^

Chapter 23: A rabid wolf

Notes:

Heads up for exhibitionsim in this chapter.

Ivar argued with his brothers again. They seemed to disagree on what their strategy should be when facing Ecbert’s forces. Ylva could hear him insisting that Björn come with him and inspect the surroundings. Sigurd protested but eventually Ivar got what he wanted. He turned to wink at her before he took off in his chariot, closely followed by Björn on a horse. Ylva and Blaeja sat at one of the long tables, trying to repair some of Sigurds and Ivar’s clothes that had been ripped or worn out. Blaeja’s hands moved deftly, clearly used to needlework. Ylva didn’t do quite as well. She managed to prick herself with the needle every few seconds, giving up a hiss each time. Eventually, she had had enough and slammed Ivar’s now bloodstained tunic down on the table.

“To hell with it, I will ask Hildur to make him a new one instead.”

“Would you like me to help you?” Blaeja asked. She was already done with two of Sigurd’s items and had started folding them in a neat pile. Ylva nodded eagerly and started pushing Ivar’s clothes towards Blaeja. The dark haired girl stopped her and smiled.

“Oh no, you’re going to have to do some of it yourself.” Ylva fell forward until her face met with the table and let out a groan. Sigurd came and sat down next to Blaeja and he instantly lifted his hand to touch her hair. It had become his usual way of greeting her.

“Are you hungry? I thought we might find something to eat.”

“I need to help Ylva first.” She gestured towards Ylva, who had now started smacking her forehead repeatedly against the table. When Ylva noticed Sigurd staring at her, she lifted her head up to look at him.

“Expect to have your wife back sometime next year. By then I will have bled to death.”

“I’m sure Ivar would miss you very much.” Sigurd said. He strived to keep his voice neutral, but she could still hear a mocking tone somewhere in it. Maybe she had imagined it, but if it was real she couldn’t let him get away with it.

“Yes, and you wouldn’t.” She bit back. Sigurd sighed and placed a light peck on Blaeja’s cheek, then he got up and left them again. Ylva wasn’t really sure why she was so rude to Sigurd: he had apologized for his cruel comment and he was kind to Blaeja. Then again he was also very disrespectful of Ivar and that annoyed her beyond all reason.

“Sorry about that.” She murmured to Blaeja.

“Don’t worry about it. Here, let me show you how to fix these.” Blaeja picked up the tunic that Ylva had worked on and started to explain what they needed to do.

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“What have you done, woman?” Ivar said as he held the tunic up so that he could see it better. Ylva pouted.

“My life hasn’t offered much opportunities to practice sewing.” She snarled.

“No, I can see that. Why did you agree to do this? I told you that you didn’t have to.” Ylva shrugged her shoulders.

“I didn’t think it would be this difficult.”

“Lucky for you that I don’t keep you around in the hope of you being my personal seamstress.” He spread the tunic out on the table in the main tent and inspected it closer.

“You seem to have improved quickly though, you even managed not to get any blood on this area.” He said while letting his finger run over the shoulder. Ylva sighed.

“Blaeja had to help me. I’ve only done a few stitches on each piece, and only because she insisted that I learn.”

“Oh. Then maybe it was a mistake to tell Rhodri I wasn’t eligible.” Ylva’s face darkened and she smacked the back of his head. Ivar chuckled at her reaction.

“Don’t you dare joke about that. Not after what you said to me last week, not after I said it back to you.” She whispered. Her voice trembled and Ivar realized that Ylva was deeply hurt by his words. He had always thought that he was the one who most afraid of being abandoned, but it seemed that Ylva might be able to compete with him.

“It is of no interest to me if you can sew or not.” He said softly and beckoned her to come sit in his lap. “You are resilient, and clever…and gods have mercy there’s nothing more beautiful than you sprayed with Saxon blood. You have awakened every part of both my mind and my body.” He held her hand up to his face and sucked away the now dried up blood from her thumb. He could feel her relax. Ivar let out a low groan when Ylva stroked her hand over the front of his pants.

“The meeting will start soon. Will you wait with going to bed until I come back?” He murmured with her thumb still resting on his lower lip. Ylva felt heat well up in her sex. What does he want to do this time?

“Are you going to discipline me again?”

“No, even though I should for what you did to my clothes.” He let go of her thumb and let his hand slide up her leg instead. “I have something a bit different planned for tonight.” Voices could be heard outside and the leaders started welling in to the main tent, the sons of Ragnar entering first.

“I will tell you more after we’re done here.” He retracted his hand and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Ylva picked up his “mended” clothes and pressed them under her am, then she rose to her feet and walked outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva felt a tingling sensation as she followed Ivar through the camp. She wasn’t sure if she was more nervous or excited for what was about to happen.

It had been about half an hour since Ivar came back from the meeting and explained what he wanted to do.

“There’s a hill at the far end of the camp. Once we decided to place our camp here, Sigurd claimed it as his. He goes there to play the lute, or to just sit around.” He had said. “After the meeting, he went back to his tent. He will probably speak to Blaeja for a short while, if she’s awake, and then he will pick up his lute and walk to the hill.” He had paused for a moment to pull a blanket from their bed and spread it out on the ground. He had stroked his hand over the blanket as he started to speak again.

“Sigurd thinks that I’m not a man. After the first time you gave yourself to me, you said that you wouldn’t mind proving him wrong.” Ylva had gasped when it dawned on her.

“You want to…?”

“Yes. I want him to see you give yourself to me, I want him to hear you whimper under me as I satisfy you.” Ylva had stared at him in silence. Then she had sat down on the ground and rolled up the blanket. Ivar had looked confused.

“Is that a…” Ylva had interrupted him.

“We have to hurry if we are to make it there before him.” She had repeated the procedure with another blanket, pressed both of them under her arm and then grabbed on to her crutches. Ivar had let out a pleased noise as he watched her prepare. Then he had slithered outside, eyes glowing.

They reached the hill and Ylva quickly dropped to her knees. Ivar found it impossible to keep his hands to himself while she spread out the first blanket; he just had to move up next to her and let his hand roam over her ass. They sat down next to each other and Ylva helped him remove his gauntlets. Ivar studied her face closely while she worked on the straps.

“Would you have agreed to this if I said I wanted to fuck you right next to his tent?” Ylva shook her head.

“Blaeja has no part in this, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

“I suspected that you would say that.” Ylva threw his gauntlets to the side and pulled him in for a kiss. He whimpered when she let go of him again.

“I thought I was supposed to do the whimpering.” She smirked at him. He scoffed at her.

“You will, before I’m done with you. Come here.” Ylva straddled him and he started grinding against her, his movements slow but deep. She tugged at his shirt.

“Let me see those muscles of yours and I swear that I won’t be able to stop myself from crying out your name when Sigurd gets here.” Ivar groaned and lifted his arms so that she could remove his shirt. Ylva purred when she saw his naked chest.

“Such a nice view.” She scratched her nails over his skin.

“Now you take something off.” He demanded. She stretched her legs out behind him, pulled her boots off and threw them over her shoulder without looking where they landed. Ivar let one hand rest on Ylva’s lower back while the other wandered to the front of her pants. He sucked at her neck while his fingers tugged at the strings. Ylva let out a content sigh and wiggled a little against Ivar’s crotch. He muttered something that sounded like so eager against her skin and yanked at the strings one last time. Then he laid back on the blanket.

“Take off your clothes.” He whispered, his lips barely moving. Ylva rolled of him and discarded both her pants and her shirt, then she scooted further down and removed Ivar’s boots. By the time she started undoing his pants she was shivering in the cold. Ivar noticed and let his hand run through her hair.

“Don’t worry, I will keep you warm.” He said softly. She threw his pants to the side and straddled him again. Ivar reached out his arm and found the other blanket. He unfolded it and hung it over Ylva’s shoulders so that it covered her back and part of his legs. Ylva leaned in and placed a hand on his cheek.

“I know you will take care of me.” She started grinding and her movements earned a moan from him. Ivar pressed one hand in between their bodies and let it slide over the top of her folds. Ylva whimpered when he found her clit.

“I told you that I would make you whimper before I was done.” He let his clever hand work between her legs until Ylva swatted him away.

“Enough.” She panted “I want to ride you now.” She fumbled a bit as she reached for his cock. Ylva stood on her knees and readied herself to sink down on his length, her eyes closed. Just then Ivar squeezed her ass roughly and her eyes flew open. She saw Ivar lick the moist from his fingers.

“Mmmm, you taste so good.” He purred. Ylva let out a strange sobbing noise and sunk down on his erection. Her movements quickly grew frantic and the blanket dropped from her shoulders. Ivar dug his nails into the skin at her waist and tried to keep her still.

“Easy” He growled “remember what we are here for.” His eyes were wide and he looked almost overwhelmed by her eagerness.

“But you fit so perfectly inside me.” She whined and continued to grind against him.

“Ylva, you have to stop or…fuck” He tightened his grip on her “Tug at my balls, now!” He snarled. Ylva did as he said and he let out a sigh as a shiver ran through his body. He relaxed a little bit and stroked her back.

“You will be the death of me.” Ylva had finally stopped moving and looked at him in shock.

“What just happened?” He sat up and let his lips wander over her ear.

“I was about to come, thanks to your eagerness. But we are far from done so I had to stop it.”

“That’s what you did when you disciplined me? I thought you would spill on my leg.”

“I discovered it when I was alone in my bed, not long before you and I met” He bit down on her earlobe “It’s turning out to be quite useful, seeing as you’re in such a hurry to please me.” Ylva pushed him away so that she could see his face.

“Are you complaining?” She rolled her body over him again. Ivar hissed and clamped down on her hips to make her stop.

“No. But I think for now I should set the pace.” Ylva sulked but she complied. Ivar slowly leaned backwards until he was on the ground again. She picked up the blanket and covered her back again. Ivar took his time, he dragged out every thrust for as long as he could. Ylva made small encouraging noises but tried not to do anything that would set him off again; though she couldn’t resist tracing her fingers over his upper body.

“I think someone is coming.” She gasped. Ivar lifted his head up and listened intently. He could hear footsteps approaching.

“Yes.” He grunted and his movements grew more intense as he plunged deeper inside her. Ylva moaned loudly and Ivar grabbed her by the hips. Just as Sigurd came within their line of sight, he flipped Ylva over on her back and positioned himself over her. The blanket fell to the side, leaving them exposed. They could hear a thud as Sigurd dropped his lute on the ground. Ylva locked her legs around Ivar’s waist and whispered in his ear.

“Make me scream.” Ivar growled and dug his nails into the ground, he started thrusting like his life depended on it. Ylva whimpered under his onslaught.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sigurd roared. Ylva tilted her head to the side and looked at Sigurd. His entire body was shaking with unrestrained anger.

“You don’t own…Oh, Ivar” Ivar had hit some sweet spot and Ylva dug her nails into his shoulders before she continued “You don’t own this place, Sigurd.” She could feel Ivar smile against her neck. Then he too turned his head so that he could see Sigurd.

“I’m sure there are other places you can go to practice, brother.” He called out, his breath strained. Ylva yanked at his braided hair.

“More, Ivar.” She whimpered. Ivar turned his focus back to her so that they were once again facing each other. His mouth found one of her nipples and he let his tongue sweep over it. Ylva could feel that her orgasm wasn’t far away. She turned to look at Sigurd again. He looked like a statue where he stood. Ylva grinned at him and just then Ivar bit her nipple, making her crumble under him. She shut her eyes and screamed out his name, just like she had sworn she would do. Ivar let out a loud roar and followed her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Sigurd leaving. Ivar looked as if he was about to burst with pride. He pulled at the blanket to cover them again and leaned in to Ylva’s ear, his breath fanning against her skin.

“Did you see the look on his face?” He rasped. She nodded, amazed by the way his eyes sparkled.

“You did so well, my love. You will receive a well-earned thank you after the battle tomorrow.” He placed a peck on her cheek and then turned to look over his shoulder “Soon the rumour will spread, and no one will be able to say that I’m not a man.” Ylva pinched his side to get his attention. He jumped in surprise.

“Yes, but you’re my man so you better not slither into bed with someone else now that people will hear of your prowess.”

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Blaeja’s hands trembled as she tried to repair the sheet in front of her. Ylva studied the princess from her seat at the table.

“There’s nothing wrong with being worried.” Ylva said softly. Blaeja sighed.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Your stitches look almost as shitty as mine, and I’ve barely gotten to taste any of the mead. How many cups have you had?” Blaeja blushed but didn’t answer.

“They will come back Blaeja. They are good fighters, just like their brothers. And Floki will be there to protect them, the gods favour him.” The mead had made Blaeja’s tongue loose and she couldn’t stop herself from saying what she thought out loud.

“Do you want Sigurd to come back alive?” Blaeja blurted out. Sigurd had stomped into their tent last night, eyes blazing. After a while, he had calmed down enough to tell her what had happened. Ylva sat back in her chair and rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes, she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“Of course I do. If he doesn’t come back, you’ll either have to marry some other Viking leader or be sent back to Rhodri. Neither of those options bode well for you. I don’t like Sigurd, but I know he’s good to you so for your and for his family’s sake I hope he survives.” Blaeja mulled over Ylva’s answer. This shouldn’t surprise me, she told me about her issues with Sigurd the first time I asked about him. Finally, Blaeja nodded. She gave up her attempts at sewing and pulled the plate with fruit closer. They sat in silence as Blaeja ate and Ylva sipped at the mead. After a while, they could hear the army re-entering the camp. Ylva’s face lit up and she hurried towards them, followed by Blaeja. And then they froze. Ylva felt as if her heart had stopped beating. The army was so much smaller than when it had left this morning. She somehow managed to move her feet. Ylva scanned the crowd but saw no sign of Ivar. The warriors were cheering. How could they do that? How dare they celebrate when Ivar is dead?

“No, no, no.” She whispered under her breath. Then Ubbe made his way to the front of the army and she nearly stumbled and fell in her hurry to get to him. The rest of the camp also came out to greet the returning warriors, but Ylva could only focus on Ubbe. He didn’t notice her until she almost crashed into him.

“What happened?!” She shrieked. Ubbe had been occupied by other thoughts, but now his face broke into a wide grin.

“We won. Ivar’s plan worked.” Ylva felt her blood boil. He’s smiling.

“Was it part of his plan to die?!” Ubbe looked taken aback for a split second, and then the smile returned.

“Oh, Ylva, no. He’s not dead. We pushed their army back and now we’ve taken over Ecbert’s villa.” Ylva looked on in stunned silence as Ubbe reached out his arms and raised his voice.

“We have taken over Ecbert’s villa. Let us join our compatriots there for a great feast!” He shouted. The crowd cheered at his words. Blaeja had crept up behind Ylva and wringed her hands as she looked at Ubbe with begging eyes.

“Sigurd is alive and well.” He said in a calming tone “Now you two go and pack your things. We’re leaving as soon as possible.”

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The young shieldmaiden pulled at the reins and the wagon came to a halt. Ylva saw Ivar from afar. He sat in his chariot, which he had parked in the courtyard. Her heart skipped a beat; Ubbe had told the truth, he was fine. She couldn’t see a single scratch on him. Ivar hadn’t noticed her yet, he seemed occupied with polishing his helmet. She climbed out of the wagon and moved closer to him. He curled his lips and spat at the helmet, rubbing away the dirt and blood with a rag.

“Ivar.” She said softly. He lifted his head and looked at her. He briefly turned to put the helmet down in the chariot. When he met her eyes again his face shone with mischief.

“Come.” He ordered. Ylva hurried to climb up next to him. He pulled her into his arms and caressed her back.

“I thought you were dead.” She whispered.

“These Saxons are pathetic, I don’t have a mark on me.” He muttered and let his hands slide down to cup her ass. She sighed happily in his ear.

“Now you and I are going to find ourselves a room with a nice bed so that I can thank you for yesterday; a man’s spirit rises high when he sees this much bloodshed. And tonight we are going to have ourselves some fun with our dear Wigmund.” A pleasant shiver ran down Ylva’s spine.

“You found him?”

“Yes. The villa was almost completely empty when we came here, most of the people had escaped. But Wigmund was too slow. We have taken him prisoner, along with Ecbert.” Ivar had barely finished the sentence before Ylva crashed her lips to his. She deepened the kiss, her hands entangled in his hair. Ivar groaned and tightened his grip on her ass. They broke apart for air. Ivar’s hair was tousled and he licked his lips as he glanced over her body, his hands still holding on to her soft flesh.

“Let’s go find that room.”

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Blaeja made her way through the halls in Ecbert’s villa. She had excused herself from the feast outside to go find Ylva. She had to get away from the warriors that boasted about how they had slaughtered her fellow Saxons, and…I need to speak to her about last night. She found the room that Ylva and Ivar had claimed and knocked on the door. No answer.

“Hello?” Still nothing. Blaeja pressed her ear to the door. She couldn’t hear anything.

“Are you looking for someone, little princess?” Blaeja jumped at the sudden noise. Halfdan stood only a few steps away. She straightened her back and tried to look as calm as possible while looking at the man that had spoken so light-heartedly about forcing himself on her.

“I wish to speak with Ylva, but she doesn’t seem to be here.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her. She went for a walk, I think she wanted to explore the forest around here a bit.” He stepped forward, a threatening glint in his eyes “I can show you.” Blaeja gave him a stiff smile.

“No, thank you, that won’t be necessary.” Then she hurried to leave. She walked out through the small kitchen entrance at the back of the villa and continued until she found the back gate, then she slipped through the unlocked gate. Blaeja made her way to the tree line. It was a long way to walk and she wished she had told Sigurd where she was going. Now the only person who knew where to find her was Halfdan. What if he comes after me? Blaeja hesitated for a moment, but decided to press on. She had just stepped past the first row of trees when she heard a scream. Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to locate the sound. Then she heard it again. There. Blaeja started running, a task made difficult by her long dress and the uneven ground. She thanked God that the sun hadn’t disappeared completely yet. She ripped the sleeve of her dress on a tree branch but it only stopped her for a split second. She could see a fire now, and at least two figures next to it. Blaeja came crashing into a small clearing, almost falling forward. The exhaustion made her vision blurry and she closed her eyes as she tried to calm herself.

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice cried out. Blaeja opened her eyes again. Ivar sat with his back against a tree, with a set of tools next to him on the ground. He looked annoyed, as if she had interrupted something very private. She saw that he his pants were undone and that he had one hand inside them. Blaeja let out a squeak and turned to face Ylva. The skinny girl held a hammer in one hand and the other clutched on to the shoulder of a mutilated body. Her face and body was covered with blood. Like a wild animal that has just devoured its prey. Blaeja stumbled backwards and fell over a root. She landed on the ground.

“No, no, what are you doing?” She squealed, her eyes wide with terror. Ylva let go of both the man and the hammer and started crawling towards Blaeja. Blaeja tried to move further back but she hit a tree and found herself incapable of getting back to her feet. Ylva looked horrifying as she crept closer, the crawling on all fours only adding to the image of her as a predator. A rabid wolf.

“Hush, I’m not going to hurt you.” Ylva said in a tone that was meant to be soothing, but the contrast between her soft voice and her wild appearance only upset Blaeja further. “He was a bad man, Blaeja, he hurt me. I had to punish him, stop him.” Ylva’s voice grew desperate, pleading, as she saw that Blaeja wasn’t about to calm down.

“You’ve done this before?” Blaeja asked, her voice shaking.

“This is her third time.” Ivar chimed in as he tied his pants back together.

“Oh, God.” Blaeja sobbed.

“They were all bad men.” Ylva insisted. She was close enough to touch Blaeja now. Ylva slowly reached for her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, Blaeja could see how Ivar slithered closer. This finally unfroze her limbs.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed and sprung to her feet. Ylva recoiled in shock. Blaeja ran out of the clearing. She expected Ivar’s axe to come flying through the air at any moment; she had seen him practice and it was a terrifying sight. I have to make it back to the feast. Her dress stuck to another branch and it left a big tear at her hip. Twigs clawed at her hands as she shielded her face from them. She left the forest behind her and allowed herself a quick glance over her shoulder; there was no one behind her. Blaeja could hear the noises of the feast and as she rounded the outer wall she could finally see them. She cried out for her husband.

“Sigurd! Sigurd!” The people closest to her stared at her like she had gone mad. Blaeja pushed her way through the crowd. Then she heard Sigurd.

“Move!” He came sprinting towards her, followed by his brothers. Blaeja collapsed in his arms.

“What happened?” He asked as he saw her torn dress and the cuts on her hands.

“Yl-ylva, and Ivar, t-they…” She stuttered. Sigurd’s face darkened.

“They did this?!” He hissed.

“No, but they’ve killed someone…I saw them in the forest and there was a body and so much blood and she said that he had to be punished and she had a hammer and her face was covered in blood and I was so scared, Sigurd, I was so scared” Blaeja rambled.

“Who guarded the prisoners?” Björn asked Ubbe in a low voice while Sigurd tried to soothe Blaeja.

“Erik, I think. And someone else, one of Harald’s men.”

“They can’t have done a good job. It seems like our dear brother has given Ylva another gift.” Ubbe inhaled sharply.

“Ecbert…?”

“I don’t know.” Björn muttered “We’ll send someone to check on the prisoners, while we look for Ivar and Ylva.” Ubbe nodded. He tried to look calm and collected, but his heart pounded with worry. Oh, beloved, foolish brother; what have you done?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar and Ylva would soon be out of the forest. Ylva’s breaths came out strained. I’ve lost Blaeja, she’s never going to want to see me again. Ivar had tried to say that it didn’t really matter, that she’d always have him; but Ylva had curled up on the ground, her fingers clawing at the dirt as she had tried to stop her chest from heaving in panic. Ivar had been forced to pull her into a sitting position and then he had started coaxing her to get up and leave the clearing. As they stepped away from the tree line, they could see Ivar’s brothers. Sigurd walked at the back, his arm still wrapped around Blaeja. Ylva felt a jolt of pain shoot through her body at the sight of Blaeja cowering in Sigurd’s embrace, like she was some monster that he had to protect his wife from. The two factions met just a few feet from the tree line.

“Which one of the prisoners did you take?” Björn asked in a growl.

“Wigmund.” Ivar answered. Blaeja whimpered. I knew him. He had been one of the men in charge of training the soldiers in Ecbert’s army. He came to Northumbria to negotiate with her father whenever one of the kings felt it was necessary to join their forces against a common enemy. She remembered him as a kind man, especially around the young servants.

“You had no right to do that.” Björn said, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“He deserved it.” Ivar snarled. Blaeja freed herself from Sigurd’s grip and walked past Björn.

“How can you say that? You didn’t know him!” She spat out the words. Ylva squeezed her eyes shut.

“He was a piece of shit.” Ylva said. She fought to keep her voice steady, but failed miserably.

“I don’t believe you.” Blaeja said, her voice sharp. Ylva winced as if in physical pain.

“Blaeja, please, don’t do this to me.”

“I trusted you, I thought of you as a friend; my only friend. You didn’t think it was important for me to know that you get off on torturing my compatriots?” Blaeja’s voice only grew in volume and Ylva started to feel how she was pushed beyond her sadness. The heavy feeling in her stomach morphed into a fiery ball of anger. How dare she judge me? She doesn’t understand. The spoiled little princess will never understand.

“You’re sick, Ylva. No wonder they had to lock you up!” Blaeja yelled. It became dead silent, but it only lasted for a split second. Then Ivar bared his teeth and let out a hiss. Blaeja saw Ylva’s face change; she had thought the blonde girl looked feral in the forest, but it was nothing compared to what she looked like now. Blaeja realized her mistake and tried to back behind Björn again. It was too late. Ylva lunged at her, all covered in blood and terrible. Blaeja found herself pinned to the ground, Ylva sat on top of her and screamed profanities. Then Björn grabbed on to Ylva and violently yanked her backwards. Ylva landed on the ground with a thud, but she quickly scrambled to her knees and tried to reach Blaeja again. Björn stopped her again, he easily lifted her into the air with one hand. Sigurd wrapped his arms around Blaeja and held her tightly. Ubbe and Hvitserk rushed to stop Ivar, who had pulled his axe and moved to strike at Björn. They held Ivar down and took the axe from him. Ylva continued thrashing in Björn’s grip. The last thing she remembered was Ivar screaming as Björn’s large fist collided with her face. Then everything went black.

Chapter 24: Rein him in

She hadn’t moved for hours. Ivar sat outside the cell, his hands wrapped around the bars. He had spent the night outside her cell, threatening anyone that came to close. Ylva was on the floor, curled up into a ball and her back turned to him. She hadn’t touched the food that had been brought to her, and she hadn’t said a word. The only signs that she was still alive was the small noises of her breathing. When she had just come back to consciousness she had sat up and looked around her. Their eyes had met, and Ivar could see the large bruise that Björn’s fist had left. He had begged her to come closer to the bars so that he could reach her; but she had only looked at him in defeat, and then she rolled up into a ball.

“Ylva.” He tried again, but to no avail. He wanted to break the lock, slam the door open and rush to her side. He wanted to carry her out of there and console her; but not only did his legs make it impossible for him to carry her, he didn’t even have any tools or weapons. Björn had stripped him of his axe, his knife and the tools that he had brought to the clearing. They’ve taken my claws. Björn had even wanted to take away the spikes that Ivar used for moving around, seeing as they could be used as improvised weapons, but Ubbe had told him not to be so cruel. Ivar had thought about stealing something from the armoury or from one of the warriors, but everything was kept under lock and key now or fastened to someone’s belt. He had tried to use the spikes, but they had only scraped the lock and then the guards had interrupted him. When Björn had sent someone to check on the prisoners last night, both guards had been found asleep. Earlier that night, Ylva had served them some mead, saying that the Ragnarssons had sent it as an apology for making them stand guard while the others feasted. Erik had quickly gulped it down and soon fell asleep. Harald’s man, Hallbjörn, had then knocked Wigmund unconscious and carried him to the clearing. Ivar knew that Harald wanted to see the sons of Ragnar tear each other apart from the inside, and he didn’t hesitate to use that. So he had approached Hallbjörn before Ylva showed up at the villa, and told him that he needed a favour.

“If you stand guard, and help me bring Wigmund outside, then your king will be very pleased with you.” The man was far from sharp minded but he was eager to serve Harald and he was strong enough to carry the rather large Saxon. Ivar also suspected that the man admired his ruthlessness. After Hallbjörn had dropped of the gift, he returned to his place outside the cells and drank some of the mead. At first, he had been hesitant to agree to this last part.

“If my brothers find you awake they will know you had something to do with it; and unlike Harald, they won’t be happy.” Hallbjörn had reluctantly agreed. He had never bothered to ask how king Harald would find out that it was he who had served him so well so that he could be properly rewarded, and Ivar wasn’t about to bring it up. Drunken buffoon.

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Ubbe tried to steel himself. Don’t go in there, pretend like you can’t hear it. Ylva’s screams were echoing through the dungeons. Her nightmares had returned, stronger than ever, and he had seen how Ivar had desperately tried to reach into the cell and comfort her last night; his little brother had cursed as he realized that she was just out of his reach. Ubbe had been checking up on the other prisoners and now he was supposed to go to the great hall and meet with his brothers; but the wailing tore at his nerves. King Ecbert had even asked about it.

“Are you torturing someone down here? Do you have more prisoners?” He had asked curiously, but he hadn’t received an answer. Eventually, Ubbe gave in. He picked up a torch and made his way to the cell that held Ylva. The screaming had stopped before he reached his destination. Ivar sat with the side of his head leaned against the bars, half-asleep and the nails of his right hand raked over his left wrist. Ubbe could see angry red marks that bloomed all over the area.

“Has she eaten?” Ivar’s head snapped up when he heard Ubbe’s voice. His face morphed into a scowl.

“No.”

“Well, at least she’s not having nightmares now, right?” Ubbe said in an attempt to calm the young man. Ivar scoffed and turned away from Ubbe again.

“That’s because she’s not sleeping. I managed to wake her up right before you got here but she’s still not answering me.” He growled. Ubbe walked closer and leaned down, he tried to reach for his brother’s shoulder.

“Ivar, you have to understand that we didn’t have a choice. She attacked Blaeja. Sigurd is furious, and Blaeja is terrified. What if she’d actually killed the princess? Our deal with Rhodri would be over and we would lose Northumbria.” Ivar slammed his fists against the floor and Ubbe stood up straight again.

“We are Vikings, we have a great army; any lands that we want should be taken by force, not given to us as a dowry!” He snarled at Ubbe. The older brother bit his tongue. Then he made a snap decision.

“Open it.” He said to the female guard. Ivar’s eyes widened in surprise and he hurried to see if Ylva had reacted to Ubbe’s words. He could see Ylva lift her head slightly off the floor and he eagerly pressed himself even closer to the bars. I’m coming to you, my love. The man and woman looked at each other; they hesitated.

“I said open it.” Ubbe commanded. Maybe she can take away some of his foul mood, or at least make him focus on something else for a while. The woman lowered her eyes and pulled the chain holding the keys from around her neck, then she stepped towards the cell. Ivar hurried to move out of the way. As soon as the door swung open he slithered over the floor as quickly as he could with his stiff limbs and grabbed on to Ylva. He pulled her in close and embraced her tightly. She let out a choked sob and he could feel how his sleeve got soaked by her tears. Ivar pressed kisses all over her neck.

“Let me see your face.” He begged and Ylva turned to face him. Almost the entire left side of her face was swollen and miscoloured, and she had a black eye. Björn had certainly not held back. Ivar let his thumb wander over the mark and struggled not to throw a fit of rage right then and there. Ubbe noticed this and kept studying their interaction in silence.

“It will get better soon, the swelling will go down.” Ivar whispered “Now you have to eat.” Ivar tugged at her until she sat up, then he grabbed on to the bowl of stew that had been left on the floor. It had gone cold, and had probably been standing there for too long to be really fresh, but it was better than nothing. Ivar coaxed Ylva into taking small spoons of it. She reluctantly let the spoon past her cracked lips. After she had managed to swallow a small serving of the stew, Ivar put the bowl down again and swept his fingers over her lips.

“You need water.” Ubbe stepped inside and offered them his waterskin. Ivar snatched it from him without a word and pressed it in Ylva’s hand.

“There you go.” He cooed as she tilted the waterskin to let its content run down her throat. Ubbe stood at the opening of the cell.

“Can you walk, Ylva?” Ubbe asked. She shook her head.

“I don’t have my crutches.” She said, her voice hoarse from not having used it. Ubbe stuck the torch in one of the grippers on the wall and then he knelt down next to Ylva. Ivar eyed him suspiciously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to carry her to your room. She can’t stay here.” We need her to keep you calm and distract you, Ubbe added in his head. The guards had heard the entire conversation and now they moved closer to the cell. They looked hesitant; Ubbe was their prince, but so was Björn and he was both older and the official leader. Ubbe noticed that the guards crept closer and he held a hand out to stop them.

“You won’t get in any trouble for this, I will take the blame. If Björn asks, just say that you obeyed my orders.” Both of them stopped in their tracks. The woman nodded gratefully at Ubbe and then she backed away again. The man hesitated for a few more seconds, then he let out an annoyed grunt and stepped away from the cell. Ivar still held on to Ylva.

“We have to hurry up, or Björn might come looking for me and stop us.” Ubbe insisted. Ivar’s jaw tensed, but he let go of Ylva and Ubbe carefully scooped her into his arms.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked. She shook her head in response. They moved right past the guards, and the female one gave Ylva a sympathetic look. Ubbe started making his way up the stairs, with Ivar following close behind as he watched over his brother’s every movement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You let her out?” Björn looked as if he might explode at any second “Tell me, brother, what possessed you to do such a thing?”

“Having Ylva next to him soothes him. I just saw him pull himself together and hold back his rage just because Ylva was there. And when we confronted them about Wigmund, Ivar didn’t get aggressive until he saw you hurt her. At the beginning of their relationship he stabbed a man simply because of something he said; you can’t deny that he’s gotten more manageable.”

“He has brought her four different men to torture, just to keep her happy!” Björn growled.

“He has.” Hvitserk chimed in, Sigurd looked as if he was about to say thank you but Hvitserk wasn’t done yet “Ivar will do anything for her if he thinks it will make her happy. That could be useful.”

“He loves her.” Ubbe said softly. Sigurd snorted.

“No, he’s obsessed with her because she lets him in her cunt.” Björn was fed up with their bickering.

“Is there a point you’re trying to make? Cause if so I’d like to hear it; now.”

“These men that they have killed, they are all horrible; we have all heard Helga describe the scars on her.”

“I’ve seen them up close.” Sigurd broke in, his voice dry. Ubbe ignored his remark and continued talking.

“They’re also not important people to us, in fact they were all helping the men that killed our father. What does it matter to us if she spills some Saxon blood?” Ubbe moved around the table as he spoke, closing in on Björn “If we step aside and let her take her vengeance, she will be happy; which will make Ivar happy. In the future she might be able to put her past behind her and they could settle down together; she can tame him.” Sigurd let out a cold laugh.

“You want one wild animal to tame another? She’s deranged, she attacked Blaeja!” He snarled.

“No offense to your wife, Sigurd, but she was incredibly disrespectful to Ylva, especially considering that Ylva has done everything she can to help her. She helped you too; even though you treat her lover like shit.” Hvitserk said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Because you are so kind to Ivar, hmm?”

“Kinder than you, and I have the good sense to keep my mouth shut around Ylva.” Hvitserk shot back. Björn slammed his fist down on the table before it could go any further.

“Shut up, both of you.” They quieted down and he turned to Ubbe “What exactly is it that you suggest we do?” Ubbe spread his arms out.

“It’s quite simple really; we let Ylva and Ivar be together and we look the other way when they find a Saxon to play with. When it comes to someone that we too have an interest in, like Ecbert and Aethelwulf, we negotiate with them. Lastly, we keep Blaeja out of their way.” Hvitserk nodded in approval, but Sigurd didn’t look quite as happy. Björn stroked his beard, the idea of Ivar being reined in by this woman was certainly interesting.

“I agree with you, Ubbe.” He said solemnly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re my fighter, my vengeful little wolf.” Ivar whispered in Ylva’s ear as he held her close. Her spirit was still dampened by Blaeja’s rejection and her time in the cell, but Ivar could see that she was returning to her fierce self. A few more hours in freedom and she will be restored.

“Little wolf? You’ve never called me that before.” She murmured.

“No, but I think it suits you.” Ivar didn’t tell her how he had come up with this new nickname; he had overheard Blaeja rambling to his brothers about how Ylva had looked like a feral wolf, covered in the blood of its prey. It had made him smile. It’s perfect, she’s truly living up to her name. Someone knocked on the door.

“I guess it’s time.” Ivar sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Ubbe came inside.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Yes.” Ubbe turned to Ylva.

“I’m sorry, but your crutches are broken. Floki is working on repairing them, but for now I can either carry you or you can use me as support.” Ylva took a deep breath; of course someone had ruined her only way of moving around on her own.

“I know it will take longer, but I’d prefer if I can lean on you.” Ubbe nodded and reached out his arm for her to grab on to. The trio slowly made their way to the great hall. Björn, Hvitserk and Sigurd sat there waiting for them. Ubbe helped Ylva to a chair and she let her eyes sweep over the room, intentionally ignoring Sigurd. Ivar sat down next to her and placed his hand on her thigh.

“We need to decide what to do about Ecbert.” Björn let out a sigh before he continued “And we would like to hear what you have to say about it.” Ivar smirked and his hand started massaging Ylva’s thigh. He felt confident now that his weapons had been returned to him.

“I’m glad you ask, Björn. I actually do have an idea.”

“Is she in on this idea?” Sigurd asked with a nod towards Ylva. Ivar laughed a little.

“Actually, I haven’t told her yet. It is a surprise, one that I think she’ll like.” Ylva's heart skipped a beat. Björn groaned.

“Just tell us.” Ivar could barely keep himself from grinning.

“I want to blood eagle him” He turned to look at Ylva “and I want her to help me.”

Notes:

Ylva is derived from the Old Norse word for wolf, and it basically means she-wolf https://www.behindthename.com/name/ylva

Chapter 25: The third promise

Notes:

In this chapter, we get a bit more insight in how Ylva's outlook on life changed during her time as first Ecbert's and then Ælle's prisoner, and how she fell deeper and deeper into a black pit of hopelessness. Contains mention of death wish. Basically, not the happiest of chapters.

But, on the more positive side; sexual healing.

Ylva placed her hand over the one that Ivar used to massage her thigh and squeezed it lightly. He paused his movements. His brothers stared in silence.

“Would you like that?” Ivar asked her in a low voice. Before she spoke, Ylva used her other hand to ball up his shirt in her fist.

“Yes, I would like that very much.” Then she used her grip on the fabric to pull him in for a kiss. Ivar growled when they pulled apart and his hand resumed its work, this time even more fervently.

“Then that is our proposal.” Ivar’s words finally pulled Björn out of his initial shock and his face set into a strange grimace.

“That is not the way it is done, and neither of you can stand up long enough to blood eagle someone.”

“I imagine us sitting.” Ivar smiled “We can ask Floki to nail him to a board, like he did with Ælle, and position him so that he is almost flat on the ground; only slightly tilted upwards.” Ivar used his free hand to demonstrate the angle. Sigurd gave up a disgusted groan and then he stood up abruptly, almost making his cup fall over.

“This is madness; are you really going to negotiate with them?” He snarled at Björn.

“I believe the negotiations have already started, Sigurd. Do try to keep up.” Hvitserk said. He looked almost amused by his younger brother’s behaviour. Ubbe broke in.

“We will consider it. Now, about Aethelwulf…”

“I want him too.” Ylva said firmly. The brothers stopped for a moment and Ivar put his free hand to rest on her shoulder “He was the one who took me. I wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for him.” Ivar furrowed his brow at her words but said nothing. Björn tapped his fingers on the table.

“Another blood eagle? Try to think of your body’s limitations…” Ylva cut him off.

“You know nothing about my body; those secrets are only between Ivar and me.” Ivar chuckled and let his hand slide even further up her thigh, the tips of his fingers teasing her through the soft pants. ”Besides, it doesn’t matter how he dies” She jutted her chin up and struggled to not be too visibly distracted by Ivar’s roaming fingers “but when he is captured, I want to be the one to carry out the sentence.” That’s it, you’re becoming yourself again little wolf, Ivar thought proudly.

“And what will we get in return?” Ubbe asked.

“We won’t conspire to steal away anyone that is captured, we will ask nicely” Ivar said and rolled his eyes “and the ones that you too have an interest in, we will negotiate about. Also, I won’t separate the warriors that wish to follow me from the rest of the army.” Sigurd, who still stood up, leaned in and placed his hands on the table. He stared at the couple.

“I feel like there’s something missing from the deal. I think you know what it is that I want, Ylva.” Ivar tensed up next to her and she lowered her eyes.

“And” Ylva began, her voice suddenly trembling “I won’t seek out Blaeja, I will leave her be.” Ubbe felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. She really cares about Blaeja, she’s not some cold-hearted monster. A part of him felt guilty for using Ylva to ease Ivar’s moods, there really was no way of telling if he would snap and hurt her. But we have to try if we are to keep our family and our army together. Ubbe took comfort in the thought that Ylva seemed to be just as infatuated with Ivar as he was with her, and that she’d continuously chosen him over everyone else. Ivar could only think of how he wanted to take Ylva away from there, away from Sigurd and Björn, right now.

“We expect an answer by tomorrow.” He said. He retracted his hands from Ylva and prepared to drop to the ground; showing that the conversation was over. Björn gestured at Hvitserk to get his attention.

“I wish to speak with Ubbe and Sigurd in private; help Ylva back to their room.” Hvitserk rose to his feet.

“Sit back down, brother.” Ivar said with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes and Hvitserk instantly dropped back into his seat “Neither of you get to touch her again, ever. Except Ubbe, provided that I am there to oversee it.”

“No.” Ylva’s voice was steady again and she shook her head. Ivar looked confused, as if he wanted to ask her if she was sure.

“No” She repeated “I heard what he said about them not having any other choice than locking me in that cell.” Ubbe shrunk in his chair. Ylva stared at him, something dark brew in her eyes “You let Björn put me there, even though you know what I’ve been through. I know that you care about Ivar, and so I expected more from you. The only reason I let you help me to the table, is that my crutches are broken and my knees hurt too much to crawl; it seems even my ointment has disappeared during my time in the cell.” Shit, I didn’t know that. I only knew about the crutches, Ubbe thought to himself. He considered telling her this, but he suspected it wouldn’t make a difference. She won’t believe me, or any of us. Ivar’s face had softened and he nodded slowly.

“Then he won’t touch you.” He leaned in and kissed Ylva “Let’s get back to our room, I think Floki should be done with your salve by now.”

“And how do you plan on getting there if you won’t let anyone help, hmm? Didn’t think about that, did you?” Sigurd taunted them. Ivar’s hand moved to the knife and started to grip around its handle. Ylva stopped him by grabbing on to his wrist and bringing his hand to her face so that she could press a kiss on his knuckles.

“I will crawl. It will take time and it will hurt, but I will soon have my medicine and my crutches again; then I can go wherever I want, whenever I want.” With that, she let go of Ivar and lowered herself onto the floor as carefully as possible. She gave up a small groan as her knees made contact with the cold surface, and Ivar could tell that she was trying not to wail in pain. Don’t help her, she will look weak and then she will be mad at me, he told himself. He knew this because he had been in her position so many times that he had lost count. In fact, he was in that position right now; sleeping on the cold stone floor outside the cell had been an excruciating experience in more than one way and his limbs were still stiff. But if there was one thing Ivar was good at, it was keeping a straight face even in the moments when it felt as if someone was driving knives through the useless muscles in his legs and twisting the sharp blades inside him. Practice makes perfect. Those who knew him well could still sense that something was off, by the way he sat or by the dark circles that showed he hadn’t slept. Ivar and Ylva slowly crept away from the great hall together. He waited to speak until they were out of earshot from his brothers.

“You just have to make it to our room, then you can rest for as long as you need and Floki will bring you the ointment. Everything will be fine.” Ylva nodded, her jaws clenched together, and continued moving forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar sighed when he felt the hot water engulf his lower body as he sat down in the corner of the enormous bath. Ylva knew about Ecbert’s ridiculously lavish bath since she had spent several years at the villa, and she had insisted on dragging Ivar there to see if the warm water would have any effect on his pain. Most of the warriors had gone to sleep in their tents and the leaders were likely drinking in the great hall or exploring the rest of the grounds; they had it all to themselves.

“Do you feel better?” Ylva asked softly as she dragged her fingers through Ivar’s hair.

“Mm.” He tilted his head back so that it pressed against her hand “But you should join me, I might need your hands to work out some of the knots. And this would probably help you relax too.” Ylva already felt much better, since Floki had dropped of a new batch of her salve not long after they had returned from the great hall. She had flung her arms around him and thanked him a thousand times over for going out and finding the ingredients that they had run out of. Floki had seemed almost embarrassed by her embrace.

“You just take care of Ivar, so that he doesn’t do anything stupid around his brothers.” He had giggled, while he stroked her bruised cheek. He had barely closed the door behind him before Ylva had sat down on the bed, yanked her pants off and started to rub the salve on her knees. She had noticed that Ivar didn’t crawl up next to the bed like he usually did when she applied the ointment; he enjoyed hearing her little noises and observing the way she moved her lower body when rubbing it in. Once she was done she had changed into a sleeping tunic and laid down on the bed, facing Ivar.

“As soon as I’ve rested my knees for a while and the medicine has taken effect, we’re going to Ecbert’s bath.” She had said it in a tone that made it clear that this wasn’t up for discussion, but Ivar being Ivar had asked anyway.

“Why?”

“Because you’re in pain, and the water might take away enough of it so that you at least can come into bed and get some sleep.” Now Ivar pulled away from Ylva again and turned to face her. She laid on her stomach right next to the bath, one hand dipped in the water.

“Come here.” He tugged at her sleeping tunic until it was bunched up at her hips. Ylva sat up and pulled it over her head before slipping into the water next to him.

“Let me take care of your legs.” He stretched his right leg out so that it rested on her lap and Ylva went to work on it. She massaged it thoroughly, bottom to top, while Ivar studied her closely.              

“Have you ever bathed here before?” He asked.

“No, I was just a small child; a prisoner, and a peasant at that.” Ivar groaned when Ylva succeeded in loosening a particularly stubborn knot in his calf. He allowed himself to sink a bit deeper into the water and waited in silence until Ylva was done with his right leg. He shifted so that she could continue on the next one.

“Does it feel strange being back here?”

“Yes and no. Before I was sent to Ælle I would sometimes dream about coming back here and make the halls run red with their blood, though I didn’t have much hope that it would come true. But then the warriors found me, and I met you again.” Her head was bent down but Ivar could see a hint of a smile on her lips. He hesitated before asking the next question, but his curiosity won out.

“Before you were sent to Ælle?” Ylva stopped kneading and her smile disappeared.

“Yes. After a few days in Northumbria, I only dreamt that I would be able to escape somehow. It didn’t matter anymore if I got revenge, it didn’t matter if I never got to see Kattegatt again; I just had to get away from there. Then I tried and failed; so I started wishing for death instead.” Ylva had let go of his leg as she spoke and Ivar moved again so that he was sitting upright next to her. He reached his hand out and started stroking her hair.

“Ylva…”

“I always hoped that news of what had happened to the settlement would reach Kattegatt so that an army would be sent to extract revenge, but as the years passed that hope faded.” Ivar swallowed hard. She doesn’t know that father knew about the settlement. “It was always difficult to tell how much time had passed, but I think Ælfric came to me for the last time about three or four months before your army arrived.” Her fingers traced the scar on her throat.

“Is that when he gave you that scar?” Ivar asked. She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself as if she was still trying to shield herself from Ælfric.

“I thought he would kill me. I could feel myself falling away from the world…and I was so relieved, so happy.” Ylva fought to keep her breathing calm. Shit, I’ve upset her.

“Hush now, everything is fine. You got away.” Ivar tried to calm her down again “I never should’ve asked. Please, don’t be sad.” She finally looked up at him, he could see the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I did. I got away from that fucking cell. And then your brothers bruised me and threw me in another one.” She broke down in front of him, her body convulsing as she sobbed and wailed. Her arms were still wrapped around her body and her fingernails clawed into her shoulders, leaving angry red marks behind. Ivar grabbed on to Ylva’s wrists and forced her arms to loosen their grip. He tried to think of something, anything, to say that would soothe her.

“Everything is fine...” Ylva slammed her fists into Ivar’s chest. The impact wasn’t hard since he was still holding on to her wrists but he quieted down. That was clearly not the right thing to say.

“No! I woke up on the floor in a fucking cell last night with half my face swollen; my medicine and crutches gone so that I couldn’t walk. Nothing is fine!” Ylva screamed at him. Ivar let go of her wrists and sat there quietly while she yelled incoherently between sobs and continued hammering her fists against his muscles. After a few minutes she started slowing down again, she had exhausted herself by pummelling at his upper body almost constantly. She took a deep, ragged breath and scraped her nails over his chest.

“Do you know what I dreamt while in the cell? I had all the same nightmares again, except it was your brothers that raped me, hit me, carved marks into my skin to keep count of how many times they’d taken me.” Ivar could feel his eyes tear up and carefully wrapped his arm around her. Ylva let him pull her closer and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Earlier, I didn’t understand what you meant when you said that you wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for Aethelwulf but now I think I do.” He whispered “But Ylva, I love you and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t protect you; I promise that I will try harder in the future.” Ylva shook her head.

“It’s not your fault. You tried, but they joined forces against us, and they declawed us both.” Ivar kissed her forehead and Ylva could feel a small drop land on her brow.

“Still, I promise to do better. Now, I’ve made you sad by bringing up these things; tell me what to do to make you feel better.” His voice was hoarse and she understood that he too was crying. Ylva let out a small whimper and she wiped away the tears that were still gathering at the corners of her eyes. Then she tilted her head up and kissed his chin.

“Make me feel good again, Ivar. Give me so many meories of your hands on my body, that there's no longer room for any memories of them.” Ivar pulled her onto his lap and Ylva immediately kissed away his tears, then she gently rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks to wipe them dry. He leaned in and they let their lips melt onto each other. Ivar nipped at her lower lip and she opened her mouth to him. Their tongues moved together gently and Ylva let her hands become entangled in his hair. When they broke apart to breathe everything paused for a moment and they sat there trying to collect themselves; then Ivar spoke up.

“Move” He tugged at her to show what he wanted her to do. Ylva slipped of his lap and repositioned so that she was leaning against the edge of the tub, her back turned to him. “A bit further up.” Ylva pulled herself further up on the edge, so that her chest rested on the floor; this position left her back completely exposed and she remembered when they had placed her like this and brought a lash down on her skin. Then Ivar swept her hair to the side and snaked one arm around her waist. His warm skin and gentle touch gave her the strength to push back against the memories.

“I’m going to take care of your scars.” His voice was serious, yet kind. Ylva closed her eyes and waited for him to begin. She shuddered under him when he started trailing one of the lash marks with his lips and his tongue. Gods that felt good. Ivar lifted his head from her back; she couldn’t see his face but she heard the insecurity in his voice.

“Is it not good?”

“Continue, please…but be careful with your teeth.” She murmured. Ivar did as she asked and he slowly made his way over the marks on her back, paying attention to them one at a time. Ylva egged him on with small noises of encouragement and soon his movements grew more confident. She let herself relax completely under Ivar and she sighed happily; she felt him smile into her skin when he heard the way he made her sound. Once every single scar on her back had been attended to, he moved to the swellings on her ribs and gave them the same treatment.

“There. Now the ones on your leg.” Ylva sat down on the floor so that only her legs were still in the water and Ivar spread them before settling between them, facing away from her.

“Thigh on my shoulder.” He instructed. Ylva did as he said and he carefully bent her leg so that her calf ended up in front of his face. He was just as thorough with taking care of the tally marks as he had been with the other marks. Ylva dragged her fingers over his scalp and begged him to never stop; the heat between her legs grew stronger with every scar he gave his attention to. He reached the fold of her knee, where the marks stopped, and let go of her leg. Ylva hurried to slip into the water again and Ivar pulled her into his lap so that she could straddle him. She kissed him eagerly, like the feeling of his lips on hers were the only thing keeping her alive, and Ivar let out a moan. He grabbed Ylva by the shoulders and pushed her back before he got too carried away. Just the feeling of her fingers on his scalp and the sound of her encouraging noises while he trailed her scars had been enough to make his cock stiffen; and if she continued kissing him like this he would spill before he was done with her.

“Not done.” He gasped when she pulled away from him. Ylva nodded but she let both her hands disappear under the surface to find his left thigh, which she had never finished kneading, and her eyes locked on to his.

“You’re upset too, Ivar; let me take care of you, like you take care of me.” Ivar groaned when her knuckles found and loosened another knot; the sensation sent a wave of pleasure through his body. He mustered up all his concentration so that he could focus on the swelling on her collarbone. Ylva felt him shiver every time she found a new knot and her heart swelled with pride at the knowledge that she at least could ease his pain. Then Ivar placed his hand on her bruised cheek and she paused. He leaned in and placed a tentative kiss at the bottom of the mark.

“No one will raise a hand to you, ever.” He said softly and then he gave the swollen area the same treatment that he had already distributed all over her body. Ylva found another knot and just as she managed to loosen it, Ivar lifted his mouth of her skin.

“Now I am done; and you have taken such good care of my legs. Come here, little wolf.” He whispered. Ylva pushed herself onto her knees and scooted a bit forward so that she was positioned over his length. She lowered herself just a little bit, enough to feel his tip tease at her entrance.

“I love you, Ivar.” She said. Ylva didn’t murmur, she didn’t whisper; she spoke loud and clear because she wasn’t ashamed to say it and she knew that Ivar needed to hear it out loud in order to believe it. Ivar let out a small whimper at her words and tugged at her to make her sink further down. She glanced towards the big doors.

“If there’s anyone out there listening; I love Ivar Ragnarsson and we’re about to fuck in this ridiculously large bath!” She yelled. Ivar broke out in laughter and stroked the small of her back.

“You are insane, woman.” Ylva smiled at him as she sunk down on his cock and hummed in pleasure when he filled her up. Ivar moaned and she started squirming a bit, still smiling at him. Ivar couldn’t wait any longer; he snaked both his arms around her waist and bucked his hips up. Ylva squealed and started grinding against him to meet his movements while her hands grabbed on to his broad shoulders. Ivar growled and moved one hand so that it was on her belly instead and he slid it up her body until he reached her tits; he cupped them one at a time and let his thumb roll over her nipples. Ylva’s face flushed red and she threw her head back as a loud moan escaped her mouth. Ivar clicked his tongue and placed his other hand behind her neck so that he could tilt her head up again.

“You really like that, don’t you?” He mused, never slowing his pace.

“Yes.” She rasped and pressed herself harder against the hand still at her breast. Ivar grinned; he lowered his eyes to the soft flesh in his hand and repeated the procedure. His thumb moved slower this time, but it pressed down harder. Ylva mewled and tried to squirm even further into his hand as waves of pleasure rolled through her body.

“Ivar…” She whimpered in warning. He locked eyes with her and smiled innocently as he twisted her nipple between his thumb and his index finger. Ylva moaned as she came undone and her head was about to fall backwards again but Ivar caught her and pressed her towards him instead so that their lips could connect. Her hands had slipped down off his shoulders and they trembled as she brought them up to brush through his hair. Ivar was still moving inside her and Ylva realized that she had stopped grinding. She started moving again, bouncing lightly on his cock, and deepened the kiss. When she could feel him tightening his grip on her neck she bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. Ivar cursed and jerked his head back; his body spasmed and Ylva felt his liquids spill inside her. His chest heaved as she brought one hand to his bloody lip. She dragged her thumb over the mark and Ivar stared at her; his eyes wide with wonder. Ylva lifted the thumb to her mouth and closed her eyes; she hummed happily while sucking the blood away. Ivar shifted under her and his hands started roaming over her body.

“Ylva...” Ivar whispered. Her mouth made a small popping noise as she pulled her thumb back out. She opened her eyes and flashed a sweet smile.

“Yes, Ivar?” He rested his head between her breasts.

“Can you do that every time?”  

Chapter 26: Enjoy the view

Notes:

Torture scene ahead.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sigurd quieted down and turned to see Blaeja standing at the entrance to the throne hall.

“No, not at all. You should probably hear this too.” Sigurd gestured for her to come sit next to him. Blaeja sat down on the steps leading up to the throne and Sigurd’s hand immediately found a strand of her hair to play with. Blaeja smoothed the fabric over her dress and cleared her throat.

“What were you talking about?”

“Ivar and Ylva wants us to let them bloðorn Ecbert.” Björn said. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.

“I don’t understand.”

“Blood, and…” Hvitserk grimaced as he tried to think of the right word but he gave up and flapped his arms instead to show that he meant some kind of bird. Since Blaeja had cut all ties with Ylva she no longer had anyone that was fluent in both languages to teach her, and no one that could help with translating when her husband and brothers-in-laws couldn’t find the words; it had only been a day and it was already becoming frustrating. Their conversations consisted of a mix of her broken Norse, their broken Saxon and wild gesturing.

“It’s a way of killing someone; the same one that we used on your father.” Ubbe said softly. Blaeja suddenly felt queasy; she had heard the rumours about how her father had been mutilated.

“Oh.” She whispered and then swallowed hard. Sigurd glared angrily at Ubbe and hurried to move the conversation forward.

“But Ecbert has offered to give us legal right to East Anglia, provided that we let him decide how he dies.”

“What can you tell us about the land that he is offering us?” Björn asked. Blaeja ignored his question.

“If you can have the land then why would you let Ivar and Ylva have their way? What good would that do you?” Sigurd beat out his free arm.

“See? She agrees with me.” Ubbe sighed and dragged a hand over his hair.

“I know that they frightened you, but Ivar is still our brother and Ylva is making him better…”

“That was him being better?!” Blaeja squealed and Sigurd wrapped an arm around her. Hvitserk leaned forward and spoke in a firm tone.

“He won’t stop trying to bring these men to her, Blaeja. And not everyone in the army is loyal to Björn, we know that there are some who think we are abandoning the Viking way by wanting to have settlements; Ivar can separate those people from the army and then we will have no way of controlling him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaeja walked through the corridors and tried to find something to distract herself. She had told Sigurd that she didn’t feel well and wanted to go lie down; the truth was that she couldn’t stand listening to them discuss what to do about Ecbert. Blaeja didn’t hold any love for the king, but he had intervened when her sister was tortured and kept both Judith and her son safe; for that she was grateful. At least Sigurd seems to agree with me. Blaeja turned a corner and found herself in a long corridor with several small rooms. Guestrooms, or maybe quarters for the royal family’s personal servants. The third door on the right was open and she could hear a familiar voice floating out from the room. Blaeja’s face lit up with a smile and she hurried towards the voice.

“Hildur.” She called out as she stepped inside. The seamstress paused in the middle of her conversation and turned to face the princess.

“Hello, princess.” Hildur opened her arms and pulled Blaeja in for a hug. Hildur’s arms were strong from years of having helped out at her husband’s smithy and Blaeja lingered in the strong yet gentle embrace for as long as she could. Once the two women had pulled apart again, she smiled and bowed her head at the large man that stood in one of the corners, digging through a small chest. His lips twitched but he didn’t quite manage to return the smile. The first time Blaeja had met Hildur’s husband she had recoiled upon seeing the scars on his face and the strange grimace; Hildur had hurried to calm her down.

“Arne won’t hurt you. There was an accident in the smithy a few years ago and the scars make it difficult for him to move his face properly; he would smile at you if he could.” Now Blaeja studied his actions curiously.

“What are you looking for?”

“Crown.” He grunted. Hildur rolled her eyes at her husband.

“He has heard so much about the crowns that the kings here wear and he wants to see what they look like, what they are made of.” Blaeja furrowed her brow.

“Didn’t Ecbert have it when he was captured?”

“No, and we haven’t found it anywhere in the villa.” That is strange, she thought to herself. It could be nothing; those who fled might have taken it with them.

“And what about his sceptre?”

“His what?”

“The royal sceptre. It is similar to a staff but it’s decorated; the tip is rounded and has a cross on it. You haven’t found that either?”

“No.” Hildur tilted her head to the side and looked concerned “Is there something wrong?” Blaeja’s mind was working at full speed. She was well aware of how shrewd Ecbert was; it wouldn’t be like him to just give up East Anglia. He must have some sort of plan.

“No, nothing. Excuse me, there’s something I have to do.” She turned and hurried out of the room, leaving Hildur confused. Blaeja made her way to the cells and gathered all her courage to stand up to the guards. As soon as they saw her they stepped forward.

“Princess, what are you doing here?” The female guard asked.

“Give me a torch; I wish to speak with Ecbert.” The male guard growled something that Blaeja didn’t understand, but judging by the tone and the horrified look on the woman it was something rude. She straightened her back and looked him right in the eyes.

“I am your prince’s wife; do as I say or I will have him bring me that disrespectful tongue of yours.” The man narrowed his eyes at her but he stepped aside. The woman handed Blaeja a torch and led the way further in until they reached Ecbert’s cell. The king looked surprised at first when he noticed her, then his face broke into a wide grin and he bowed his head.

“Princess Blaeja, I did not expect you to come visit me. How is your husband treating you?”

“You know that I am married to Sigurd?”

“It came up during my discussion with the sons of Ragnar.” She nodded and then looked over her shoulder at the woman.

“Leave us.” The guard scurried away. As soon as she was out of sight, Ecbert spoke up again.

“You know, I can’t say I’m surprised; Rhodri would do anything to keep his throne.”

“Unlike you?” This made him laugh.

“Oh no, I am in no position to judge! I too have done my fair share of distasteful things to gain power, probably worse things; that whole business with the settlement was rather messy.” Blaeja felt a jolt of sadness shoot through her body.

“Ylva wants to kill you, the same way they killed my father.” This piqued Ecbert’s interest.

“Ylva is here?”

“Yes. She was the one who drugged the guards and then she had someone drag Wigmund outside so that she could kill him. You didn’t see it?”

“No, I’m quite the heavy sleeper; even in this godforsaken cell. How did she kill him?” Blaeja had to take a deep breath before she could answer him.

“With a hammer. I couldn’t even recognize him.”

“Oh my.” Ecbert moved closer to the bars so that his nose touched against them “I take it those two were not on good terms.”

“No. Apparently this wasn’t the first time she did it, and she’s got her eyes on you now.” She thought she could see a worried look flash in his eyes but it only lasted for a split second.

“It is kind of you to warn me Blaeja, but I have proposed a deal to your husband and his brothers so she will not have the pleasure of blood-eagling me.” Ecbert said in a mildly condescending tone.

“I know, they told me about it. That is actually why I came here; there is something I want to ask you about this deal.” Ecbert sat back again and gestured for her to go ahead, his free hand stroked idly over the long beard.

“You’re not the king anymore, are you?” Something flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything and he didn’t stop stroking his beard.

“What makes you think that?” He asked calmly.

“All the royal symbols are gone.” Ecbert snorted at her.

“Sweet child, I made sure that they were taken away from here so that they wouldn’t fall in the hands of the pagans.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I don’t think that you would give up East Anglia without having a plan. You are known for being cunning.” Ecbert stopped his movements and smiled at her.

“You flatter me, princess.”

“Before your son left, you made him king.” Blaeja said and stared at him intently “And when the Northmen try to claim East Anglia they will discover that, since you were no longer king when signing it, the paper you’ve given them is useless. They will have lost both the land and the satisfaction of executing you in front of their army.” Ecbert lowered his head.

“I see. That does sound like something I would do.” Blaeja took a few steps forward.

“But you won’t admit it?” She asked, her voice raised. Ecbert chuckled and looked up at her again.

“Where’s the fun in that? If I had such a plan, admitting it would ruin everything.” Blaeja clenched her jaws together. I’m done here. She turned and started to walk away from him.

“Will you tell your husband about this ‘realization’ of yours?” He called out. She stopped and lowered her head. Blaeja’s voice trembled as she answered him.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She hurried out of there.

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Björn had almost dozed off in Ecbert’s throne when there was a loud knock on the double door. He jumped and spilled the cup of mead he had been holding over his sleeve. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Come in.” He called out. The doors opened and Blaeja peaked her head inside.

“Björn, I’m so sorry to disturb you but there’s something I need to tell you.” She spoke so quietly that he almost couldn’t hear her. He sighed and waved for her to come closer. Blaeja pulled at the pelt that she had borrowed from Sigurd in an attempt to shield herself; she was only wearing a nightgown underneath it and she thanked God that she hadn’t met anyone on the way here.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Björn asked softly when he saw how underdressed she was.

“I was, but…I spoke to Ecbert earlier tonight and I have to tell you what he said.” He sat up straight, suddenly wide awake.

“What did he say to you?” Blaeja started rambling.

“I wasn’t going to tell you, because Aethelwulf is my brother-in-law, but Sigurd is my husband now and if Ecbert’s plan works out that could mean trouble for the army and I don’t want to get sent back to Rhodri…” Björn slammed his fist down on the armrest.

“Tell me!” He demanded. Blaeja winced at the loud noise; then she lifted her head to meet Björn’s stare.

“I think Ecbert is trying to trick you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ecbert was pushed to his knees. Ylva sat next to Ivar, his arm wrapped around her, and watched as Floki nailed the former king to a board. Ylva closed her eyes and focused on Ecbert’s cries of pain as Floki hammered the first nail through his left hand; his screams became even more satisfying as they were carried by the wind and mixed with the crackling of the fires that were lit all around the site of the execution. Ivar saw how her lips slowly curled into a smile and he leaned in to nip at her earlobe. The feeling of his teeth on her skin made her open her eyes and look at him.

“Don’t forget to enjoy the view, little wolf.” He whispered. Her smile grew bigger and she turned her gaze back to the ongoing mutilation; Ylva could feel her entire body itching with desire to pick up one of the knives and drag it down Ecbert’s back. When Floki had lodged the last nail into Ecbert’s right hand he turned and nodded to them. They moved from the spot where they had been watching, slightly behind and to the left of the site, and took their places on each side of Ecbert. Floki stepped in front of Ecbert and cupped his face.

“For Ragnar, and for Ylva.” He whispered to the trembling old man. Then he let go of him and walked to the side. Ivar suddenly realized that he and Ylva hadn’t agreed on who should make the first cut and he was just about to ask her when she held the knife out to him. She balanced it on her palms with her arms stretched out over Ecbert’s back; Ivar couldn’t stop himself from inhaling sharply. He tentatively reached out and took it, all the while looking directly at her. Ecbert had stopped crying out in pain, but his body shivered and he made some strange sobbing noise.

“What are you waiting for? Do it.” He said hoarsely.

“As you wish.” Ivar said softly and placed the tip of the blade against Ecbert’s skin and pressed lightly; Ylva hissed when she saw the first drop of blood emerge. Ivar moved slowly, savouring every moment and Ecbert started shaking uncontrollably between them. Blood ran down his back and gathered in a pool on the ground, colouring their pants red. Once Ivar was done he pulled back and gestured for Ylva to pick up the small axe; his eyes were filled with more lust than ever before.

“He’s too quiet; make him scream, little wolf.” Ylva felt heat rush to her sex; she lifted the axe and struck at the mark that Ivar had made. Ecbert screamed and his blood splattered over both her and Ivar, resulting in another wave of heat going directly between her legs and Ylva let out a small moan; she could hear Ivar gasp and when she looked up she saw that his mouth was wide open. She continued hacking into Ecbert’s back for as long as she could muster, but her arms soon grew tired. Ylva lowered the axe and allowed Ivar to take over. His cuts were much more forceful and precise than hers but that didn’t matter; she had gotten to put an axe in the vile man. They continued working together and it didn’t take long before Ecbert’s death throes kicked in. Ivar dropped the axe on the ground and looked at her, his face stained with blood. Gods I want him inside me.

“Are you ready?” Ylva nodded. They reached one hand each into the opening, covering themselves in even more blood, and found the lungs.

“Now.” Ylva whispered; they pulled the lungs out together and placed them on his shoulders. Ylva stared at the sight in front of her. She had never noticed that Ecbert had stopped moving. It is over. She could feel a hand on her cheek; Ivar had moved so he sat next to her.

“How do you feel?” The lust in his eyes was still there. Good.

“Ivar, you have two choices now” she started in a low voice and he moved closer to hear her better “either you come with me right now and fuck me, or we do it right here. Because I am not going to wait.”

Chapter 27: Rewards

Notes:

One long sex scene involving blood, struggling for control and some light fighting (slapping)

Ylva straddled Ivar and pushed him onto his back. They had hurried to the courtyard, not spending a single thought on trying to be discrete with what they were about to do, and stumbled upon an isolated spot behind some wagons that stood near the outer wall. The ground was partially covered by some left-over hay and bags with some unknown, but soft, content; it was perfect. They immediately found themselves locked in a struggle for who was to be in control. Ylva yanked Ivar's shirt up so that his midriff became exposed, but before she could get any further Ivar flipped them over and pinned her to the ground. He tore at the neckline of her shirt and created a crooked opening that was deep enough to expose one of her breasts. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched his face closely; his tongue moved slowly over his lips, wetting them with Ecbert's blood and colouring the tip of his tongue red, at the sight of her nipple. He observed how the small nub that he had come to know so intimately grew stiff as it came into contact with the cold air, and leaned down to nip at it. Ylva slapped him across the face and he flinched back in surprise. She used the opportunity to start scooting backwards, out from underneath him. Ivar caught on to what she was doing and let out an angry hiss; then he grabbed on to her legs and pulled her back under him.

”Let me be on top, woman.” He growled; Ivar ached to put himself between her legs and her little games were equal parts infuriating and arousing. She drove her knee into his stomach as response and when he brought his hands to the sore spot she hurried to crawl away. The battle that was being fought between them, and Ivar's reactions to it, only excited her even more and she grinned at him as she spoke.

”No fucking way.” He bared his teeth at her and Ylva couldn't stop herself from taunting him a bit more. She lifted her hand to her chest as if she was about to make him some generous offer.

”If you've got the stamina for a second time, I will consider giving you control then.” He roared and rushed towards her. Ylva threw herself to the side when he reached out to grab her; the first time he missed but the second time he managed to catch her arm and she found herself pinned under him again; Ivar looked absolutely feral and she could feel his cock press against her leg. Gods this is exhilarating. She tried not to giggle when she spoke.

“I'll make you a deal.”

“Does it feel like you're in any position to bargain?” He snarled and bit down on her breast. She gasped as his teeth made contact with her skin and started to writhe under him. Ivar took this as a sign of submission and a smug look spread across his face. He continued nipping and laving at her breast while one hand made its way to the front of her pants, but Ylva wasn't ready to surrender yet.

“Ivar, you asked me to draw blood from you every time.” She rasped.

“And you will; now be quiet!” He snarled and bit down even harder while tugging at the strings. Ylva's eyes rolled back in her head when the sharp pain of his bite sent a jolt of pleasure through her body, but she gathered up all her willpower and slapped him again to make him snap out of his fervent movements. Ivar's teeth scraped over her nipple as his head jerked to the side. She expected to see rage flash in his eyes, but instead a wide grin spread over his face.

“You insolent little úlfr...” It was as if he was struggling to tame some wild animal, and the feeling was far from unpleasant. But eventually all beasts have to bow down to their master. The hand at her pants changed position quickly; it latched on to her face and began to pry her jaws apart. Ylva saw him curl his lips as if he was about to spit into her open mouth. She interrupted him.

“If you let me start on top I will do something even better than just drawing blood.” Her words came out somewhat slurred due to Ivar's tight grip around her mouth, but judging by his reaction he had heard her. He paused and looked at her, his face smeared with Ecbert's blood. He let go of her jaw and returned to the lacing; he seemed very suspicious.

“Why can't I have you first and then you do whatever it is?” He grunted and slipped his fingers down her pants.

“Because...” Ylva moaned and fought not to buck her hips up when Ivar started working his fingertips over her slick folds.

“You were saying something?” Ivar asked smugly.

“You insufferable asshole! At least let me tell you what it is.” She panted. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine, but I won't stop touching you.” Ylva grabbed on to a fistful of his hair and pulled him closer so that she could whisper in his ear. Just like Ivar had said, he didn't retract his exploring fingers from between her legs and she struggled to keep somewhat still and get the words out. But as she went into detail on what she would reward him with if he agreed to switch position, his movements slowed and he gave up a barely audible squeak. Ylva's fingers loosened their grip and she slowly ran them over his scalp instead. He pulled back a little and looked at her, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Ylva smiled triumphantly, knowing that she'd won. She slid her free hand over his warm skin and palmed him over his pants.

“Would you like that, my warrior?” She purred. Ivar groaned in defeat and then hurried to pull his shirt off. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

“Hurry up; and don't you dare try to rob me of my reward.” Ylva bit down on her lip to keep the giggle back.

“I wouldn't dream of it.” She pressed small kisses all over Ivar's stomach and slowly made her way down to his hips. Ylva smacked her hand to his side to signal that he needed to lift his hips so she could free him of his pants. She tossed his blood covered clothes to the side and shortly after her own pants and shirt landed on the pile. Ylva stopped for a moment to let her fingers run across the lines on his hips that together formed a lovely V-shape. She felt as if all her senses had been heightened by the execution, like the gods had immediately rewarded her for killing the Saxon king by making sure that she could appreciate every detail of her lover's body in an even deeper way than before. That's the least they can do after abandoning me for more than 10 years. Ivar suddenly bucked his hips up and stopped her in her tracks.

“Do you not understand the phrase hurry up? If you hadn't already undressed me I would've burst through my pants by now.” Ivar hissed through gritted teeth. Ylva finally took pity on him and straddled him again. She sank down on his waiting erection, guided by his eager hands, and started rolling her hips. Then Ivar spoke up.

“I have one condition.”

“What?” Ylva murmured, distracted by the feeling of his cock inside her.

“I have one more condition or I will pin you to the ground again and fuck you.” He said, this time in a louder voice.

“And what might that be?” She asked in a distant voice; her eyes were closed and she had completely given in to the moment.

“When you reward me, and I notice that I'm about to come, I want you to lie down on your back and let me spill on your tits.” Ivar said firmly. Ylva could feel her lips curl into a smile.

“Fine. Though I doubt you'll be able to contain yourself long enough to redirect your attention.” Ivar muttered something that she couldn't quite hear, but she guessed it was something along the lines of we'll see. Ylva continued riding him and now that she had accepted his condition, Ivar grew more and more enthusiastic. He thrusted into her and pushed down on her hips to allow him to go deeper, egged on by the sound of Ylva mewling and whispering his name. She looked like some fierce shieldmaiden that had returned from a successful battle, all covered in blood and still high from the rush of killing; and in a way she was. Not a traditional shieldmaiden perhaps, or a traditional battle, but she was a warrior and she had just slain a great enemy. Ylva raked her nails over his chest so hard that he thought she'd draw blood and clamped down on his cock as she climaxed. She screamed so loud that any innocent soul that might not have understood why the young couple had been in such a hurry to get away, no longer could claim that they didn't know what Ylva and Ivar were up to. He marvelled at the sight of her contorting in pleasure above him and followed her with a soft gasp; a sharp contrast to her unrestrained noise. Ylva slumped down next to him and they curled up together to catch their breath. They stayed like this for a while, huddled together for warmth and comfort, their bodies covered in a layer of sweat. Ylva lazily plucked a straw of hay from Ivar's hair and twirled it between her fingers. He placed a few sloppy kisses on her shoulder and it pulled her attention away from the straw.

“Do you want your reward now?” She said quietly. A shiver ran down Ivar's spine; he hadn't stopped thinking about it since she had whispered that deliciously wicked proposal in his ear. He cupped her face and their mouths connected in a deep kiss.

“Yes.” He whispered after they had pulled apart. Ylva sat up again and motioned for Ivar to position himself. He rearranged some of the bags so that they formed a soft cover between his back and the wall, and leaned back against them. Ylva sat down between his legs and wrapped her fingers around his cock. She tended to it the same way that she had done when they first laid with each other; making circles with her thumb and moving her hand up and down. Her work paid off quickly, his reaction to her touch had likely been sped up by the breathtaking sight that she posed. Ivar placed a hand on her arm and squeezed softly.

“Now, little wolf; let me take over so that you can make the preparations.” She let go of him and started feeling the bloodstains on her body. Most of them had dried but she managed to wipe up some of it with her fingers. It's not enough.

“Ivar.” She said softly and he nodded; he had observed her closely and understood what she wanted.

“Do it.” She leaned in and they locked their mouths together again while Ivar found his balls with his free hand, ready to stop himself if he became overwhelmed. Ylva bit down on his bottom lip and he shuddered under her. She pulled back again and wiped up the red liquid that trickled from his lip.

“Move your hands.” She demanded. Ivar let go of his cock so that she gained unrestricted access to it. Ylva slowly dragged her bloody fingers over his length, leaving trails of red in her wake. Once she was satisfied with the marks she had made she locked eyes with Ivar and gave him a wicked grin which he matched. Ylva laid down on the ground and let her tongue dance over his cock as she lapped up the blood. The grin vanished from Ivar's face and he threw his head back, nearly hitting the wall, as he let out a moan. Ivar forced himself to look down at Ylva again as she continued to please him. She is my reward, the gods have finally stopped pissing on me. He patted her head lovingly and fought back the tears that he feared would spill at any second. Ylva had cleaned away all the blood and she took him in her mouth, no hand at his base to control him. Just like she said. Ivar grabbed on to her hair and took charge. He only needed a few thrusts before he could feel his peak rushing towards him.

“Now.” He rasped and let go of her hair. Ylva hurried to roll over on her back next to him and Ivar struggled to hold his release back until he had repositioned. He poised himself over her so that he almost sat on her abdomen and held one hand on the wall as support. It was difficult to sit like this but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it would be worth it. With his free hand he gave a few strokes and he growled almost as loudly as Ylva had screamed when he emptied himself on those perfect tits of hers. He only gave himself a second to take in the view before he dropped to the side. Ivar was exhausted but he had to get a better look. Ylva had turned to face him, her lips were still parted and she let out some small noises that made it sound like she was shocked by what had just happened. Ivar curled up close to her and admired the result that they had achieved together.

“There's a beautiful sight; a naked woman covered in both the blood of my enemy and my seed.” He murmured and wrapped his arms around her. Ylva settled in against his chest and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I said I would do something even better.”

“Mm. Let's rest for a while and then go to that bath again; as much as it pains me, we'll have to clean up.”

Notes:

Úlfr means wolf.

Chapter 28: Northumbria

Sigurd threw his clothes on a chair. Blaeja was already in bed, her face to the wall.

”Are you looking forward to going back to Northumbria?” He asked her while he stretched his arms above his head until he heard his shoulders go crack. She didn't answer. Maybe she's already asleep, she did seem pretty distant earlier. Sigurd lifted the covers and laid down next to her. Blaeja's breathing sounded much too ragged for someone who was asleep, and Sigurd noticed how tense she was. He twirled one of her curls around his finger for a few seconds; still no response.

”Blaeja?” His hand slid from her hair and onto her shoulder. She twitched and moved further in on the bed.

”Don't.” She whispered and Sigurd pulled back ”I need some time.” He felt his heart sink, like a stone to the bottom of the sea.

“I understand that today was difficult for you.” Blaeja made a noise that sounded like a mix of a scoff and a sob ”You shouldn't have watched that. I should've told you to stay inside the villa.” He could see that she had dug her nails into the bedlinen and held on tight.

“So that is what happened to my father?” She asked after a long silence.; her knuckles had gone completely white.

“Yes.” Sigurd reached out to touch her again and this time she didn't stop him.

“Which one of you did it?”

“Björn. He would've done it this time too, if it wasn't for our deal with Ivar.” Blaeja finally turned to face him.

“He scares me.” My little brother has successfully traumatized another woman, Sigurd thought bitterly. He cupped Blaeja's face and placed a light kiss on her forehead.

“Ivar won't touch...”

“I meant Björn.” Blaeja interrupted. Sigurd furrowed his brow at her and waited for an explanation “He yelled at me yesterday when I went to speak to him about Ecbert. And you saw what he did to Ylva; he could have just restrained her but he bruised her, badly.” Sigurd shook his head; he couldn't for the life of him figure out why she had to bring up Ylva again.

“He did it to protect you.”

“No, he used her to try to put Ivar in his place. That is not a good sign.”

“So now you like Ylva again?” Sigurd said. His voice came out more annoyed and sharp than he had intended but Blaeja didn't flinch back.

“It's not that simple. Just because she scared me doesn't mean I want her thrown back in a cell; what I said, I said in the heat of the moment. Besides, that is not the point I was trying to make.” His wife said, pleading for him to understand her concerns. Sigurd decided to try to steer away from the topic, since he knew that if they kept discussing it he would just get upset and he didn't want his wife to be scared of him too.

“They will leave soon. We just have to settle in at your home, and then they will return to Kattegatt.” Sigurd avoided specifying how many of his brothers were part of that they. Björn would revisit the Mediterranean, that much was clear, but the other ones were still a mystery. Ubbe and Hvitserk might be in a hurry to go home to Margrethe, and Ivar...Ivar will most likely stay and raid, but he can't raid Northumbria so we will hopefully not see that much of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaeja could see her home again. For the most part of the way they had been in the strange boats and she had felt terribly uncomfortable; father had never allowed her on a boat. But for the last leg of the journey they had returned to horseback and she finally didn't have to worry about being seasick. As the horse she and Sigurd shared made its way to the outer wall, she felt relieved that at least some part of her old self would be allowed to stay with her in this new life; but she knew that it wouldn't come easy. The Vikings that wanted to stay and settle would have to get along with her people that were already there, and her husband would have to settle into his new role as well. I will have new responsibilities now, a queen's responsibilities. But will the people listen to me? She suspected that it wasn't the northmen that would cause the biggest trouble; the ones who would stay had expressed an interest in having farms. Besides, she'd already seen proof that her husband was loved by his compatriots. The most difficult task would no doubt be to convince the remaining thegns and other nobles to cooperate. She was glad that Rhodri had made sure that the villa was looked after in her family's absence, as it meant she had one thing less to worry about. She tightened her grip on Sigurd's waist and started making plans for the meeting of the nobles. Let's see, Ælfric is dead so we will need to appoint a replacement. What about the others? Beorthric, Dunstan. She kept listing the names in her head until there was only one left. She could feel herself automatically tense up as she thought of the last name. And Godric.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva stepped away from the chariot while Ivar was busy fiddling with the straps around his legs “Should we go find a room?” Ivar asked. When Ylva didn't answer he looked up and saw her walk through the great double doors at the entrance of the villa. He called out for her to wait but she kept moving as if in a trance. Ivar cursed under his breath and looked around to find someone that could take care of his horse.

“You! Take care of my horse.” He snarled at one of the women that were unloading the wagons. He tossed the reins at her before she could protest, and the young woman dropped the sack that she had lifted from the wagon as she reached out to catch them. Ivar dropped to the ground and moved over the courtyard as quickly as possible, growling at people to get the fuck out of his way.

Ylva stepped over the floor. Ælle's villa both looked and felt completely different from Ecbert's. Ælle didn't have the same passion for luxury and lavish decorations as his Wessex-stationed counterpart; instead, he had a desire to show people just how deeply religious he was. The floors were smooth and undecorated, and the walls were covered with tapestries portraying different motifs that she had been told were from their bible. She could see the entrance to the great hall but that was not her goal, not now. She turned right instead and continued down the hallway. There were people all around her; they explored the villa and everything in it with a burning curiosity. Most of them probably wanted to tear out the furniture, set fire to the tapestries and wreak havoc on any christian symbols they could find, but Sigurd had expressly forbidden it. Some Saxon servants were cowering in the corners, probably praying that Blaeja would be able to get the pagans under control. Ylva ignored all of them; including Hildur that tried to speak to her. The seamstress moved her mouth but it was if Ylva couldn't hear her. Her mind felt sluggish, which she thought was good because otherwise she might lose her resolve and break down on the floor in the middle of all the chaos. She came to a stone staircase and stopped for a moment to consider how to best make it down the steep descent without falling. She had never climbed this staircase on her own; the first time she had been half-dragged, half-carried by Ælle's men and the last time one of the Vikings that had found her carried her. She had been outside the cellar a few times in between, but she had usually been knocked unconscious during the transportation and then woken up again so that whoever had her wouldn't miss out on her screaming and crying. She leaned both of her crutches against the wall, sat down on the ground and started carefully climbing down. It didn't take long before she had goosebumps all over her body, and it wasn't just because of the cold stone underneath her. I hope no one has emptied it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar crawled through the corridors. There had been too much people in the way and Ylva had already disappeared by the time he had made it through the double doors. He had an idea about what she was up to, but he had no idea where in the villa that would take her. He looked around him, hoping to see one of the warriors that had found Ylva almost one and a half month ago. Ivar was just about to give up and start looking through every nook and cranny of the villa when he spotted Hildur coming towards him from the corridor to the right. He immediately understood that something was wrong by the worried look on her face and moved to meet her.

“Where is she?” Ivar demanded.

“I don't know. I tried talking to her but she just walked right past me and then I couldn't keep up because there was so much people in the way. She went that way.” Hildur pointed to the corridor she had just come from. Ivar followed her finger with his gaze. His eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip on his spikes.

“Help me look.” As they moved through the villa, Ivar snarled at people to move, unless they wanted him to stab them in their feet. One of the persons that heard this threat was the same man that Ivar had stabbed as a punishment for his rude comment about Ylva when she was sick and hallucinating; the man jumped out of their way so quickly that he almost left his skin behind and he tugged at his friend to make him do the same. After that their path was more or less clear. Ivar spotted the crutches before Hildur; he let out a hiss and sped up the last few feet. He grabbed on to one of the crutches and held it tightly in his hands. Hildur looked down the stairs; there were marks in the thick layer of dust. It was dark down there and she couldn't see where the staircase ended. Just looking at it made her shiver; this was a bad place.

“Why would she go down there?”

“She's looking for the room where they kept her. She couldn't walk so she must have climbed instead.” He said and gestured with the crutch in his hands.

“But it's so dark, what if she fell and is unconscious down there?” Ivar didn't respond. He put the crutch back against the wall and sat up so that his legs were hanging on the top steps.

“Ylva?” He called out. No response. That doesn't mean she's unconscious, the room might be far away from the staircase.

“Go find a torch and stand in the staircase so that Ylva and me can see something on our way back.” He ordered Hildur without turning around.

“What if she needs help getting back up?”

“I will call for you.” Ivar started scooting down the stairs; dust rose from the stone with each of his movements. The first few steps posed no problem, but once he had made it about halfway down he could feel a jolt of pain go through his legs every time he landed on a step. He could see the last step now and the floor closest to it; no unconscious or bleeding Ylva. A corridor to the right, an identical to the left and a third one straight ahead. Ivar glanced around him, trying to find the marks in the dust but it was difficult in the dark. Then he heard steps and the surroundings were gradually lit up. He looked over his shoulder and saw Hildur standing a bit more than halfway down the stairs. He turned his gaze back to the floor again and now he could see the marks; it looked as if someone had crawled straight ahead on all fours. Ivar gestured for Hildur to come a bit further down and then crawled through the corridor right in front of him. The dust annoyed his eyes and somehow it made its way down his mouth; the unpleasant sensation made him shudder and spit. There weren't many rooms down here and most of the doors he saw were in poor condition after the Vikings' rough treatment of them. He heard something scrape over the floor and he turned his head so quickly that he could hear his neck protest. There. Ivar crawled to the door at his right side and pushed it open. Ylva sat on the ground; she was busy pushing a bed up against the wall and didn't seem to notice that she had company. She moved one of her hands to the edge of the thin, discolored mattress, and a large puff of dust rose from it as she gave the bed another shove. She let go, turned towards the door and gave up the tiniest of sneezes. She lifted her gaze from the ground, her nose still a bit scrunched up, and noticed Ivar. Her face softened, she seemed touched that he was there.

“You didn't have to come here, my warrior. I didn't want you to have to go down those stairs more times than necessary.” Ivar shook his head.

“You didn't think I would come looking for you?”

“I hoped I would be done here quickly so that I could find you first.” Ivar let his eyes sweep over the small, windowless room.

“So this is where...”

“Help me with the bed.” Ylva interrupted, her voice suddenly harsh. Ivar decided that it was best not to continue the question. Together they manged to push it to the wall. Ylva started tugging at the mattress, adjusting it back and forth. Ivar observed her in silence for a few minutes; it looked as if she was stuck doing the same movements over and over again. Finally, he grabbed on to her waist and pulled her close.

“Ylva, what are you doing?” He stroked her hair carefully “Let's leave this room and find somewhere more pleasant to be; I'm sure there's a bath in this villa too?” Ivar asked eagerly. Ylva smiled and nuzzled at his neck with her nose.

“There is. Not as nice as the one in Wessex, but certainly better than our small wooden tubs. But I can't go there yet, not until this room is ready.”

“Ready for what?” Ivar murmured, already lost in the feeling of her warm skin brushing against him.

“Ready for Godric.”

Chapter 29: I have heard rumours

Summary:

Heads up for mention of sexual abuse against children.

Sigurd shifted in Ælle’s throne in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. He had only been sitting in it for an hour and he couldn't understand how Ælle had managed to sit in it for hours at a time. He had initially planned on sitting somewhere else, seeing as he and Blaeja hadn't been crowned yet; but Björn had insisted that Sigurd take the throne. It was probably an attempt to emphasize that Ivar shouldn't be allowed to steer the discussion.

“I will return to Kattegatt and prepare for another voyage to the Mediterranean; which of you will return home with me?” Björn briefly made eye contact with all his brothers as he spoke.

“I am not ready to go home yet. We have a great army and I intend on using it; those of our warriors who wish to live like Vikings can stay with me and raid these lands.” Ivar hadn't even finished the sentence before Sigurd let up a groan.

“I hate it when you mumble, Sigurd, do speak up.” Ivar said, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Do whatever you want, little brother, but stay away from Northumbria.” Sigurd said through gritted teeth.

“One of us should stay behind with a portion of the army, and help Sigurd settle in here.” Ubbe chimed in. “Your marriage to Blaeja is still new and she is right to think that the nobles won't accept you easily. An uprising might not be that far-fetched.”

“Are you suggesting that Ivar help with the diplomacy?” Sigurd laughed.

“What is so amusing, brother? I can outwit you at every turn; then again, that is not that big of an accomplishment.” Sigurd bared his teeth and slammed his fist into the table, ready to bite back against Ivar's insult.

“Actually, I think I should do it.” Ubbe broke in before Sigurd could retort. He placed a hand on Sigurd's shoulder, ready to stop him if he tried to get up from his chair and lunge at Ivar.

“You have a wife to go home to, is it not more reasonable for Hvitserk to stay?” Björn sighed, annoyed that Ubbe had once again saved Ivar from being reamed out. Ubbe bit his tongue to stop himself from saying that Hvitserk can't placate Ivar as well as he can.

“Margrethe will be fine. Hvitserk can keep an eye on her for me.” Both Sigurd and Ivar smirked knowingly while Björn considered Ubbe's words.

“I could do that.” Hvitserk said, hiding his grin behind his cup. The Ragnarssons interrupted their discussion when they heard the door to the great hall creak open. Ylva stood in the doorway with one of Ivar's furs draped over her shoulders. Her hair looked like a bird's nest and her eyes were slightly glossed over. Hvitserk watched curiously as Ivar's posture changed; going from aggressive to relaxed with the blink of an eye.

”What is wrong?” Ivar asked.

”I can't sleep in this place.” She murmured. Björn waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“We are busy. Go to Floki and ask for something to help you sleep.” A shadow fell over Ivar's face, but Ylva was quicker to react.

“In case you have forgotten it, Björn Ironside, sleeping is not an easy ordeal for me. And thanks to you I now have an even greater variety of assailants in my nightmares.” She hissed at him. Björn's face turned red, and Ubbe hurried to shake his head at him in warning. Hvitserk followed Ubbe's lead and he fumbled to pour some of the Saxon wine for Björn.

“Have you tasted this, Björn?” He asked quickly with a nervous smile. It was enough to distract him for a second and diffuse some of the tension. Ivar reached his arms out towards Ylva and she started walking towards him.

“Come sit with me until my brother's are done bickering. Then we can go to bed together.” Ivar said as she came closer. She let him guide her onto his lap and wrapped an arm around him, then rested her head against his shoulder.

“We are discussing what we will do next. Björn wants to go home and prepare for another raid in the Mediterranean, but I want to stay here and raid.”

“I will allow you to do that, provided I can come with you.” Ylva breathed into his neck. Ubbe shifted in his seat, hesitant whether or not he should speak up.

“Would it not be best if she stays here? It could be very dangerous for her to go raiding; imagine if your camp comes under attack while you are gone?” He asked finally. Ylva was a tormented girl, she didn't deserve to be slaughtered or taken prisoner again. And he was certain that if she were to die, Ivar would spiral even more out of control. Ivar scowled. He knew that Ubbe had a point, but he also remembered what Ylva had said about Ubbe not stopping Björn from putting her in the cell. So Ivar clenched his jaws and bit back.

“More dangerous than to be around any of you? If she's with me, at least I know that there will be one person that protects her. Two, if Floki comes with me.” Ubbe's heart stung at these words. It seemed that his relationship with Ivar had taken a hit that it might not recover from.

“Remember that if you do stay to raid, and Northumbria comes under attack, you'll have to cease your rampage and come back here to help Sigurd fight off the invaders. You might not care about your brother, but having ownership of this kingdom is an important achievement for our people. So you had best be ready to defend it.” Björn said in a warning tone, like he was a father lecturing his child.

“Don't worry, Björn. Once I have claimed something, I am loathe to let it go.” Ivar answered and he tightened his grip on Ylva as if to make a point. Ubbe grew even more distressed when he saw this; Ivar's love could be the death of the poor girl, which didn't bode well for anyone. Letting them be together worked well as long as someone could keep an eye on them, but if they left to raid other parts of the country that would be an impossible task.

“Ylva, I still think you should consider staying...”

“I'm not your slave, I'm no one's slave now. Don't tell me where to go.” Ubbe tried to make eye contact with Ivar but his little brother was busy nuzzling against Ylva's cheek. She lifted her hand to rub her eyes.

“Can we go now?” She asked. Björn sighed, knowing that they wouldn't get anything else done now that the discussion had started to derail.

“I will leave in a few weeks time. As soon as we have a better overview of the new thegns and the other nobles, I set sail for Kattegatt.” He leaned back in his seat again and downed the cup of wine. When his brothers didn't move he slammed the cup back down on the table.

“Go on then. We're done.” Hvitserk's face twitched nervously at Björn's behaviour. Ylva stood up and waited for Ivar to land on the floor. Ubbe followed them as his room was in the same direction.

“Have you lost all trust for me, brother?” He asked when Ivar and Ylva's room came within sight. He could see both of them tense up at his question. She held the door open for Ivar to crawl inside.

“I still trust you, Ubbe. Just not with her.” Ivar answered and disappeared into their room. Ylva glanced at Ubbe before closing the door, clearly marking the rift between them and him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ylva hated being back here. She could never go to sleep until Ivar was there to hold her, and they needed new candles almost every day as she didn't want to put them out at night. She hated how the servants looked at her with wide eyes and whispered when they thought she couldn't see or hear. One of the young girls had stared at her so intently that she ended up spilling all over the table while serving Ylva and the others drinks one night. She didn't recognize the girl from her time as a prisoner, but it wasn't that strange. The girl was young, 14 at most, and had probably not been there when Ylva first came to Northumbria. Now that Ylva had seen her, she found it difficult not to think of her scared yet curious eyes. There was something about that child. Ivar had nearly snapped at the horrified servant, but Ylva had held him back and told the girl to clean up the table.

Ylva also hated the nausea and the pain, that apparently was a good sign of how much healthier she was getting. At times she found herself very tempted to go find Helga and slap her. There were only two reasons she didn't go through with it; her respect for Floki and the irritating voice in the back of her head that kept reminding her that Helga had taken good care of her when she had just been freed.

“Hush, think of something else. Like how we are closing in on Godric.” Ivar soothed her as she washed the blood from her pants. She had started vomiting again last night and Ivar had hurried to bring her more sleeping draught so that she could sleep through the worst of it.

“Tell me about the meeting again.” She said and tossed the washed pants aside. She hoped that listening to Ivar talk about it would distract her.

“Blaeja and Sigurd have sent for all the thegns and higher nobles to come here and meet their new queen and king. They should arrive in five days, provided that they don't refuse.”

“They can't refuse, there is no longer any Northumbrian army to speak of.” Ylva murmured and leaned her head against Ivar's shoulder. He nodded in agreement.

“If they don't come they will be squashed by our warriors and replaced with more compliant men.”

“And Godric will be with them.” Ylva said and tried to ignore the itch that was starting to spread through the lash marks. Ivar saw her discomfort and took her hands to make sure that she couldn't scratch at the scars and accidentally send herself into a state of panic and anxiety.

“The last one, except for Aethelwulf.”

“Yes. You slaughtered all of Aelle's officers.” Ylva said softly “My warrior did so well.” She kissed Ivar's knuckles.

“And we killed most of Ecbert's officers as well. Some of his thegns still live, I suppose, but...”

“It was only Cenric and Cynebald who visited me. Ecbert rarely sent someone other than them or Wigmund to Northumbria.” Ivar nodded, took a deep breath and let go of her.

“It is almost over. Did you mean it when you said you wanted to come raid with me?” She looked shocked at his question.

“Of course.” She dug her nails into his shirt and clung to him desperately “Have you changed your mind? Ivar, don't you dare leave me here with these people.”

“No, never. I want you with me.” He reassured her.

“I can stay at the camp and ruin some more of your clothes with my shitty stitches” Ivar chuckled but Ylva continued speaking “I can practice with the axe, work on creating a salve that works for your legs, help the wounded. We could have each other every night.” Ivar ran his fingers through her hair.

“I'd like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The leaders dined together in the villa. Everyone seemed to be invested in discussions on topics ranging from what they thought of the wine, to the coronation ceremony that was to be held the following day. Ivar talked with Hvitserk and their conversation seemed to go surprisingly well. Ylva didn't hear what they were discussing, because she was busy planning how to best bring up that she wanted Godric.

“Excuse me?” A nervous, slightly childish voice said. Ylva turned her head and saw the servant girl who had spilled all over the table.

“I...” the girl started and looked down at the floor. When she looked up again her eyes had a look of defeat in them “Would you like me to fill your cup?” Ylva held out the cup for the girl to fill, mostly so that she can get a better look at the child. She had dark hair, almost as dark as Blaeja's, and her eyes looked green with flecks of grey. Her lower lip quivered and Ylva was just about to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder when the girl finished pouring and ran away again. Hvitserk had left to go relieve himself and Ivar stared at Ylva.

“What was that about?” He asked and gestured at the girl that ran towards the kitchen.

“I don't know.”

 

A few hours later most of the leaders had scattered. Blaeja and Sigurd still sat at the table, along with Ubbe and Harald. Hvitserk had slumped down in a chair opposite to Ylva and Ivar and gnawed at the last piece of chicken. Ylva and Ivar were discussing Godric again, but the conversation came to a halt when Ylva saw the servant creep out from the shadows again. She wasn't carrying a tray or pitcher this time and she slowly made her way towards Ylva, all the while wringing her hands. None of the others had noticed her yet and Ylva pushed her chair a bit further back from the table so that she would be able to turn and face the girl properly. The girl placed herself on Ylva's left side, the one where Ivar wasn't sitting.

“What is it, child?” Ylva asked softly. Hvitserk had noticed what was happening and eyed the duo curiously. The girl took a deep breath.

“I have heard rumours and I want to know if they are true.” Ylva nodded for her to continue.

“I know that you were kept here, in one of the small rooms downstairs. You were already here when me and my sister started working as servants, so we never saw you.” Blaeja had noticed that something was going on and she seemed confused by the sight of Ylva having an intimate conversation with one of the servants.

“Is is true that you have killed the men that came to you?”

“Yes.” Ylva answered calmly. She started to sense where this was going and she could feel sick rise in her throat. The girl took another deep breath and closed her eyes. Ylva could hear her quietly count to five as she composed herself. The girl opened her eyes again and now her voice came out much steadier.

“And what about Godric? Will you kill him too?” Ylva tilted her head to the side and reached her hand out so that the girl could hold it if she wanted too. The servant accepted it and Ylva gently squeezed the clammy hand.

“Will you let me see your back?” Ylva asked. The servant hesitated “You don't have to, and certainly not in here.” The young girl suddenly looked at Blaeja; she seemed most ashamed to be doing this in front of the soon-to-be queen, rather than the strange men. Then she nodded at Ylva, let go of her hand and turned her back to her. The girl loosened the top of her dress, but made sure to keep her apron in place so that she wouldn't expose her front as well. She slipped out of the sleeves one at a time and the dress fell to her waist. The girl trembled and held on to the apron like her life depended on it. Everyone had gone silent and stared at the lash marks and scars that covered her back. It was Ylva that broke the silence.

“Yes, I will kill him.”

 

Chapter 30: Your father knew

Notes:

Mention of sexual abuse against children.

Menstrual sex.

“Let me have him.” Ylva demanded.Sigurd looked panicked by the ongoing discussion while Blaeja bit her nails and tried to avoid looking at Ylva. Frustrated by the lack of response, Ylva decided to take a new approach by sharing some of the information that Wassa had given her.

“Blaeja, if you allow him to keep his title he could be a threat to your future children.” Blaeja turned to face her, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“We could strip him of his title and land, then exile him.” Sigurd cut in before Blaeja could answer, earning an encouraging nod from Björn. Ylva scoffed at him and shook her head.

“So he can keep doing this in another place? No.” Sigurd wet his lips nervously and looked to Björn for support again before he spoke.

“Ylva, this is not your decision to make. You don’t understand what it means to rule a kingdom.” Ylva's entire being flared with anger. How dare he try to put himself above me and speak as if he knows better than me? When we are discussing something like this, of which he knows nothing and I everything.

“And you don’t understand what it’s like to live in constant, all-consuming fear. Do you know what it’s like to have people line up to force themselves on you?”

“I…”

“No. And what about ending up sleeping on a cold stone floor, because you’ve been beaten so badly that you can’t climb into bed?” Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably, except Ivar who was on the ground next to Ylva looking up at her where she stood with the crutches. He stroked the back of her leg encouragingly.

”What kind of king are you? If you cared at all about what happens to your people you wouldn't hesitate like this.” Ylva turned to Blaeja once again ”Your father knew what Godric was, he knew that he fucked children and he didn't stop him.”

”You don't know that.” Blaeja whispered, she felt as if her skin would start to freeze due to Ylva's ice cold eyes digging into it.

”Yes, I do. Godric visited me too, in case you had forgotten. But I wasn't quite what he wanted; a bit too old, among other things. So he spent most of the time marking my back and then he found Wassa. I've talked to her, and Godric told her that Ælle had allowed him to use the servants.” Ylva took a deep breath and dealt the final blow ”He picked her because she reminded him of you.” Her words elicited different reactions from everyone in the room; the princess twitched but still refused to make eye contact with anyone. Björn's jaw tightened even more, seemingly pushing the boundaries of what was physically possible. Hvitserk looked grim and Ubbe as if he had been physically hurt, his eyes tearing up and his arms wrapping around him as if to form a shield. Sigurd's hands clamped down on the armrests of the throne.

“Shut up.” He growled in warning but Ylva pressed on.

“Dark hair, pale skin, big eyes, tall and slender; sound familiar?” Her voice grew in volume as she spoke and by the end she was almost screaming “Your father saw the way Godric looked at you, and instead of having him thrown in a cell he gave him permission to rape someone else!” Blaeja shrunk under Ylva's relentless attack. Sigurd hurried to take his wife's hand and tried to end the discussion.

“We will think about what you have said and...”

“How can this be something that needs to be discussed?!” Björn started rising to his feet, ready to shut Ylva up, but Blaeja cut in.

“You can have him.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it was enough to make everyone fall silent. Ylva let out a sigh and relaxed her sore body.

“Thank you.” She said in the calmest voice she could conjure up. Björn's chest heaved in poorly contained anger.

“Blaeja, are you sure?” Sigurd asked worriedly.

“She can have him.” She finally locked eyes with Ylva “I do care for my people and I don't want Godric anywhere near them.”

“Then we will make preparations for when he arrives.” Ivar said while he continued to run his hand over the back of Ylva's leg. Blaeja nodded. Ylva turned to leave and Ivar started to follow her. They had just reached the door leading out of the throne room when Blaeja called out to them in an unsteady voice.

“Tell the girl that I am very sorry for what she has been put through.” Ylva shot the princess a glare over her shoulder.

“Her name is Wassa. And you can speak to her yourself.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaeja watched curiously as Sigurd traced his fingers over her father's crown. His crown, my husband's crown, she corrected herself. She handed her own crown over to one of the servants.

“Shall I ready them for the coronation ceremony, your grace?” Blaeja shook her head.

“Not yet. There's something that I want to do first.” She turned to one of the other servants “Do you know who Hildur is?” Sigurd raised an eyebrow in question but he didn't stop fiddling with the crown, feeling at the intricate patterns and the precious stone that was set at the front.

“Yes, your grace.”

“Go find her, and ask her to come here with her husband.” It took only a few minutes before the servant returned with Hildur and Arne following close behind. Blaeja rose from her throne and walked to meet them.

“Princess, aren't you busy preparing for the coronation? Only a few more hours.” Hildur asked with a warm smile and embraced the young girl.

“Yes, but I can always make time for you.” Blaeja answered and hugged the seamstress back; right now Hildur was the only person she truly trusted. Sigurd looked on and a warm feeling spread through his chest. The women pulled apart again and Blaeja turned to Arne.

“Come with me.” She gestured for him to follow her towards the thrones. He looked at her curiously and followed her; his imposing figure causing the servants to scatter and leave plenty of room for him and Blaeja. The princess nudged at her husband and held out her hands for him to hand over the crown he was holding. Once Sigurd had placed it in her hands she turned to face Arne again.

“Here. You wanted to see a crown.” Arne's expression didn't change much, at least not physically. His face twitched slightly and she could see happiness start to radiate from his eyes. At first he just looked but then he held out his hands, asking a silent question. Blaeja nodded and let him hold it.

“This is a crown for a king, it was my father's.” She picked up her own crown “And this one was my mother's.” It was smaller, more like a lightly decorated circlet than the large and ornate crown that belonged to the king. While Arne studied the two crowns and traced the patterns with his fingers, Hildur stepped next to Blaeja.

“If this is any indication of how you treat your commoners, you will be a very beloved queen.” The seamstress said and placed an affectionate kiss on Blaeja's cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tell me what you want to do to him.” Ivar murmured into the skin of Ylva's stomach.

“I want to take my time with him. Not like the others where we had to sneak away and hide. We have a cell for him now and I want to use it.” She let her hand wander to his hair and become entangled there.

“We will.” Ivar said while he continued to make his way down her body, marking it with kisses. He reached her hipbone that poked out of the loosely tied pants and let his tongue explore it. Ylva shifted uncomfortably under him.

“Ivar. You know that I'm still bleeding.”

“Yes.” He said in a somewhat offended tone, as if he couldn't believe that she thought he had forgotten “I want to take care of you.”

“You have already taken such good care of me.” Ylva pointed out. He had brought her the sleeping draught, helped her clean up, rubbed her back and just now spent the better part of an hour soothing her by keeping her warm and kissing her stomach.

“I want to do more.” One of his hands wandered to the front of her pants and began to play with the strings “Will you let me?” Ivar looked up at her with begging eyes. Ylva hesitated , but only for a moment; then thought of how wonderfully relaxed she'd always feel after he had buried his head between her legs.

“If I hurt you, just tell me and I'll stop.” Ivar whispered and tugged a little at the strings. His brothers all thought him cruel but Ylva was sure that he in this moment was being more loving and caring than either of them had ever been. She nodded and lifted her hips to allow him to pull her pants down. Ivar went to work on removing the cloth pad and it soon landed on the floor. He gave her a reassuring smile and then connected his lips to her thigh.

“What are you going to start with? What torment will Godric know first?” He asked her quietly.

“Marking his back. Not with crosses but with my name. And Wassa's.” Ivar growled at her answer and let his tongue wander over her thigh. Ylva moaned and tightened the grip on his silky smooth hair.

“What else will you do?” He asked as his mouth wandered closer to her core and made contact with the blood. Ylva shivered under him.

“He took me to the bath here once. I want to bring him there and he can sit and wait while we bathe, and we will take pauses to force his head under the water.” Ivar started to eagerly lap up the blood at the inside of her thighs. Ylva could already feel this new treatment of his starting to work; making her body relax and hurt less. She couldn't stop herself from saying something to egg Ivar on even more.

“You know, there will be plenty of blood when I carve into his back.” Ivar hissed and the strokes of his tongue grew longer, more urgent. And I haven't even gotten to the best part yet, Ylva thought amused.

“Plenty of blood for me to smear on you and lick away.” Ivar paused and looked up at her with wide eyes and his face stained red “If you are a good boy and help me, I could reward you like I did after Ecbert. Many times.” He bowed his head down and gripped on to the bedlinen as he shuddered visibly. Then his mouth was between her legs again, fervently working at pleasing her so that he would earn his reward.

 

 

Chapter 31: Godric

Notes:

Mention of sexual abuse against children.

Ivar slithered through the corridors, making his way to the bedroom that he had claimed upon arriving at the villa. He had been discussing with Floki about how he could help with Godric and now he was eager to finally get into bed where Ylva and her warm, rewarding embrace waited for him. Ivar slammed the door open and was on the verge of calling out for his little wolf; then he saw the girl that was wrapped in her arms.

“What's this now?” He groaned. Ylva peered at him from under the covers with an apologetic look on her face.

“She was afraid about tomorrow, so I told her that she could sleep here.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep then?” He whined, sulking at the realization that Ylva would never give herself to him as long as the girl was in the room.

“It's a big bed, there's room for you too.” Ivar only huffed angrily in response; he had half a mind to go sleep somewhere else. Then Ylva looked at him with pleading eyes and he gave in quicker than he'd like to admit. She really is becoming far too good at controlling me. Wassa snored lightly and Ivar suddenly felt very uneasy at the thought of her waking up with him also in the bed.

“She won't scream and run when she sees me?” He asked while tilting his head in the direction of the girl.

“I will stay in the middle.” She gazed softly on on the sleeping girl “And I've told her that you're helping me.” Ivar nodded and started to undo the braids in his hair. He slipped the shirt over his head but opted to keep his trousers on. No need to traumatize the child further with the sight of a naked, disfigured man. He pulled himself into bed and settled in under the blankets. Ylva turned on her back and dragged her fingers through his loose hair. He arched his neck into her touch and gave up an embarrassing mewling sound. Far too good.

“Thank you, my warrior.” She murmured. She retracted her hand and turned back to embrace the girl. Ivar scooted closer and let one hand come to rest at her hip.

“Sleep well, little wolf, tomorrow is a big day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell rang loudly and the lookouts shouted. One of the Vikings that had been standing guard on the fortifications strode into the throne room and came to a halt in front of Sigurd and Blaeja.

“Our guests are here.” He announced in a gravelly voice. Ylva felt a shiver go down her spine and she turned to face Wassa that looked nauseous with worry. Ivar wrapped an arm around Ylva so that he could pull her close and kiss her.

“Stay out of sight, little wolf. Godric will soon be in your arms.” She stroked his cheek as a sign of gratitude and hurried to leave together with Wassa. As they retreated to Ivar and hers room, she had to push at the girl to keep her moving forward.

“He's here.” Wassa sobbed and clung desperately to Ylva. They passed glaring servants and Vikings on their way through the corridors; Ylva stared right back at each and everyone of them, warning them to keep their distance. Once they reached the room, Ylva sat down on the bed and pulled Wassa down next to her. She didn't speak, because she knew that all her words would go unnoticed as long as the girl was in this dishevelled state. Instead, she let Wassa scream and cry and pull at her clothes until she became exhausted and started to settle down; like Ivar had done for her. Then she wrapped her arms around the girl and embraced her tightly as she spoke soothing words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaeja could see how Sigurd struggled not to toss the crown aside. It chafed his head terribly and he had let it rest on the table for as long as possible; not lifting it to rest on his brow until right before the door into the throne room was opened and the guests started to well inside. It had been a tense meeting so far, and she doubted that it would get any better; Blaeja had been correct in her assumption that it would be the nobles that would fight back hardest against this new reality that they were living in. They all looked up at her with stern faces as she sat in her throne, her brothers-in-law and a few of their most trusted warriors surrounding her.

“As you no doubt have heard, Ælfric is dead and a new thegn must be appointed.” She had barely finished the sentence before Ceadda spoke up.

“Yes, we have all heard of his demise. He was killed by your pagan husband and his people.” His voice was harsh and Blaeja fought to not shrink under it. All these men had been loyal to her father and they thought of her as little more than a child; a traitorous child for them to tear apart. Sigurd didn't understand everything that was said but he certainly understand the cold and disrespectful tones that were aimed at his wife. He took her hand under the table and squeezed it gently, he could tell from the way she reciprocated it that she appreciated the gesture.

“Sigurd had nothing to do with Ælfric 's death. And even if he did, who are we to complain? Have you all forgotten the settlement? All the men, women and children slaughtered; they were defenceless farmers.” Her words set off another round of annoyed murmurs among the tables that had been temporarily placed in the room.

“I remember the pagan settlement very well, my queen.” Godric chimed in. There was something amused in his voice and Ivar was certain that the vile little man was thinking about the girl that had been brought back from the settlement to be used freely by Ælle’s allies and guests. I want to drive a knife through this filthy christian's heart. I want to rip out his tongue and cleave his lash wielding hands from his arms so that I can bring them as a courting gift to my little wolf. But Ivar knew that he couldn't deny her the pleasure of doing it herself. So he forced himself to hold back and simply spoke up.

“Queen Blaeja is telling the truth; my woman is the one who ended his pathetic life.”

“Your woman?” Godric sneered with a very indiscreet glare in the general direction of Ivar's legs. Ubbe saw Ivar's face twitch in anger, but he calmed down almost instantly and Ubbe once again found himself amazed at what Ylva had done to level his moods.

“My woman.” Ivar repeated with a light smirk and added you will get to meet her soon in his head.

 

It felt as if the meeting would never end. The sun was already low in the sky by the time that they had agreed on a list of men that could replace Ælfric. A sort of agreement had also been reached regarding the Vikings right to farm the lands; though it seemed very uncertain if it would last. Blaeja had already made it very clear to her husband and his family that she wanted to avoid killing the nobles, and so the only option at hand right now was to wait and see if both sides would follow the terms. Once the list of potential new thegns had been presented, Sigurd suggested that they have the servants bring some food and continue the discussion tomorrow. Ivar had been on edge the entire meeting and he had listened carefully to every word out of Godric's mouth. Now, excitement spread through his body. This was what he had been waiting for.

“Good idea, brother.” Then he turned to Floki, who was sitting on his left side “Will you go find the girls? They must be hungry as well.” Something dark flashed in the boatbuilder's eyes but his mouth let out a small giggle. Floki rose from the chair and strode towards the double-doors; he couldn't resist smiling devilishly at the Saxons as he passed them and one of them actually flinched back in terror of the deranged impression Floki was giving. Ivar raised his eyebrow at Blaeja, silently asking if she would stick to their deal. She bit her lip and nodded, then hurried to look at Sigurd instead. The young queen felt a sickening worry rise in her throat but she forced it back down. She knew that she would have to be firm with these impudent nobles and show them the consequences of crossing the new rulers of Northumbria.

 

The doors opened again and Floki stepped inside. Ivar stretched his neck to get a good look at Ylva as she walked behind his mentor. Wassa tried to hide behind her; a task made difficult due to her being about 6 inches taller than her protector. The nobles were too busy muttering to each other and stuffing themselves with food and hadn't noticed the new arrivals yet. Ivar wanted to change this and so he spread his arms in a welcoming gesture and raised his voice.

“Come sit with me, Ylva.” He could see her face break into a smile and she took over the lead from Floki. Heat had already started to flow through his body and the front of his pants felt a little to tight; so quick were the effects of thinking about how pleased Ylva would be with him. A few of the nobles looked up curious to see what was happening. Godric was one of them and he looked even more amused now than during the meeting. He probably wants to see what sort of woman it is that goes willingly to a cripple, Ivar thought bitterly. The bitterness quickly turned into joy when he saw Godric's face lose all colour. The other nobles quieted down as well; even though they had never used Ylva, they had seen her. She walked past them, sending them looks that had Ivar genuinely surprised that none of the men dropped dead. As soon as she came within reach he put his hands on her and guided her onto his lap.

“Already so excited, my prince?” Ylva whispered in his ear when she felt the thickness in his pants. He looked at her as if to say Can you blame me?  Ivar waisted no time in letting his hands slide over her thighs and Wassa sat down in an empty chair next to them that Floki offered her. Ivar glanced at Godric and was pleased to see that he seemed even more worried now that his other victim had taken a seat among the royalty. He reluctantly moved one hand away from Ylva's waist and started to fill a plate with food.

“Eat; you'll need the strength.” Ivar said and offered her the plate. Ylva happily obliged but she also nudged at Ivar to make him offer Wassa some food as well. The girl looked at him, wonder in her eyes, and whispered thank you before stuffing herself with all the fine foods that she'd never been allowed to taste before. The nobles had gone back to muttering. It had been tense during the meeting but that had been because of the poorly hidden anger. Now, there was an air of worry and the men at the tables had their eyes constantly darting back and forth. When Blaeja and Sigurd had finished eating they called for the attention of everyone in the room. Ylva immediately locked onto Godric. Once all the voices had died out, the king and queen rose to their feet and looked out over the room. Blaeja spoke and her voice was surprisingly strong.

“We have a dangerous man amongst us. Someone who needs to be held accountable for his crimes against the people of my court.” The guests looked on in confusion. Ylva watched as Godric struggled to keep up his arrogant expression; he was very bad at it. Fear shone clear in his eyes and the nervous twitch in his mouth. Then Ivar groaned into her ear.

“Stop that, or I'll have you right here on the table.” Ylva realized that she had started grinding her ass against him and he looked almost tormented. She placed a light kiss on his forehead before returning to study Godric. Blaeja continued.

“Thegn Godric, it has been brought to my attention that you have abused this servant; Wassa.” She gestured at the girl who dug her nails into Ylva's arm. Ylva could see the cogs turn in Godric's head as he decided how to respond to this accusation. He went for a final act of defiance. He narrowed his eyes at his queen, scoffed at her and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. The message was clear; how dare this child speak to him like this? She was not his queen.

“The king gave me permission...” Blaeja interrupted him.

“Northumbria has new rulers now, and we do not look kindly on the rape and abuse of children.” It was silent, the only thing Ylva could hear was Wassa's distressed breathing. Sigurd turned to the warriors closest to him and gave the order.

“Take him to the cell.”

Chapter 32: Your goddess demands it

Notes:

Sex and torture. Lots of blood, as usual. Exhibitionism.

Once Ylva and Ivar had filled their stomachs they left everyone else with the task of taking care of the outraged guests, while Wassa snuck back to the kitchen to be comforted by the other servants. Floki followed them silently, should they need any help getting into the basement. He and Ivar watched as Ylva discarded her crutches and started to scoot down the now well lit staircase. They let her get a head start before following her. As they made their way down they could hear the sound of someone repeatedly pounding their fists against a door; it seemed that Godric wasn't all too happy about the situation he was in. They stopped outside the cell and Ylva leaned in so that her ear was just inches away from the door that shook with every pound from the vile man. It was like sweet music in her ears, a sound that she was sure could be outdone only by his screams. To Ivar, she looked divine right now; eyes closed, teeth bared in a silent snarl and entirely focused on the desperate sounds that her prey emitted. He wanted to touch her but he was afraid of breaking the magic that seemed to rest over this moment. Eventually, she turned to face them with a promising darkness in her eyes.

“Come.” She said to Ivar. He smiled at her and began to loosen the set of tools from his belt. Ylva shook her head and lifted a hand to Ivar's shoulder.

“Let him squirm and worry for a while.” He looked puzzled by her words, so she clarified what she meant “Come to bed with me. I want to reward you first.” Ivar's eyes looked as if they might pop out of his head and Ylva couldn't help but snicker at him. Amidst the excitement that rushed through his body, Ivar also felt a stab of sadness. I wish that I could pick her up and carry her away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She threw his shirt to the side and then instantly fell upon his exposed skin with her mouth while her hands trailed up and down his sides. Ivar could already feel how the heat made his chest and neck blush as she licked and nipped at every inch of skin she could find.

“Thank you, my warrior.” She whispered when her fingers found the strings holding his pants together and started tugging at them. Ivar let out a pleased groan, he marvelled at how she could inflame him with something so simple as a few words. He was used to people calling him their prince; it was something that they had to do. With Ylva it was different. To her, he really was a warrior. It wasn't something she called him out of courtesy or because he forced her to do it. No, she really thought of him as a fierce Viking, someone to be looked upon with respect, someone who would no doubt enter Valhalla with head held high. Someone who deserved love. She freed his cock and pressed a chaste kiss to its tip, causing it to twitch lightly, before looking up at Ivar in an almost shy manner.

“Would my warrior like for me to take care of him, or would he prefer to take me as he wishes?” She could have looked innocent in that moment, hadn't it been for the slow way she pumped him while speaking. A hiss left his parted lips and he ground into her grip. Ivar knew damn well that this sudden shyness was all just an act on her side but that only made it better. How she exerts herself to make me happy. And since he couldn't walk through the corridors with her cradled to his chest, he would possess her in every other way that he could. Ivar swatted her hand away and growled menacingly. Ylva took the hint and surrendered to his wishes. Ivar hiked her dress up around her waist and she lifted her arms so that he could pull it over her head and throw it aside. He gave himself a moment to take in the sight before lazily slapping her ass.

“On your stomach.” She climbed off him, urged on by his hands, and laid down with her chin resting on her hands. Ivar wiggled back and forth, desperate to free himself of his pants. When the restricting clothing finally was gone he dragged himself on top of her and nipped at her ear.

“Just imagine how scared little Godric must be right now.” He purred. He could see the corners of her mouth jerk upwards. She slowly turned to look at him over her shoulder. A bloodcurdling smile decorated her face and Ivar pressed himself even harder against her. Ylva rubbed her ass against his cock that was throbbing against her naked skin.

“Not nearly as scared as he's going to be.” She answered. He threw his head back, moaned loudly and then began to kiss his way down her back. He sucked at her skin, hard enough that it was sure to leave love marks to make up for the scars. He bit down on her buttocks and let one hand nestle between her legs to work at her soaked slit. The feeling of her writhing under him and begging for him to keep going nearly sent him into a state of frenzy and he had to fight to hold back and not rush through the pleasure. Then Ylva spoke up.

“He must've beaten his fists bloody by now.” She mused. Her words broke Ivar's resolve; he found her opening and, unable to hold back any longer, pushed his length inside in one swift move. She felt wonderful around him as he plunged deep into her cunt; a sensation far better than his own rough hand working to give him release.

“Just think how he'll wail in terror and pain.” Ylva panted and Ivar picked up his pace even more, relentlessly pounding her until they both found their release. He stayed on top of her while he tried to calm his breathing. One hand was buried in her hair and it constantly opened and closed as if he couldn't decide what to do with it.

“Every time that I try to contain myself you find a way to unhinge me.” Ivar grunted in her ear. He pulled out of her swollen cunt and pushed himself up so that he hovered above her. His hand clashed lazily with her buttock, prompting her to whimper under him “I expect you to make it up to me.” She turned on her back so that he could see her head hanging in feigned shame.

“Yes, Ivar.”

“Tomorrow, you're going to bathe in his blood and then you'll ride me until I feel like you're a goddess who has chosen me for her mortal lover. Do you understand, little wolf?” Ylva broke into a wide grin and raised herself up on her elbows to press their foreheads together.

“Why wait until tomorrow?”

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It was quiet in the villa. It seemed like the noble guests had at least temporarily given up on raging against the young rulers and gone to bed. They passed a few guards on their way to the basement; they simply nodded at the young couple and murmured prince Ivar before continuing patrolling around the villa. Ylva placed the key inside the keyhole but didn't turn it.

“He might try to run; ready your axe.” She didn't need to say it twice; Ivar pulled the weapon from his belt and nodded at her that he was ready. Ylva reached her hand out and wrapped her fingers around the handle.

“What are you...” He started but he was cut short by Ylva hushing him. She let her hand slide up and down the handle in a suggestive manner. Ivar gawked at her and she giggled a little while giving a few more strokes. She stopped as suddenly as she had started and the mischief was clear in her face.

“You look a little distracted, Ivar. Please try to focus on the task at hand.” Ivar stuttered something incoherent as she unlocked the door and opened it. The bloodstains on the floor and the other side of the door suggested that Ylva was right about how he'd slammed his fists against the wood until his skin broke. Godric was curled up on the bed but as soon as he heard the door swing open he sat up with a hopeful glint in his eyes. It quickly disappeared when he saw the couple crawl across the floor in the dark room, Ylva a bit ahead of Ivar. He was shocked but only for a second. A sickening smile spread over his face.

“How impressive; a cripple and his crippled whore. You should have brought someone more able-bodied with you.” He jeered and jumped out of the bed. Ylva could almost feel Ivar tense up behind her at Godric's condescending words. As the nobleman strode past Ylva, she spoke softly.

“Ivar.” Ivar tightened his grip on the axe, and when Godric tried to move past him and out through the open door he drove his trusted weapon into the foul man's knee. Godric's scream filled the small room and Ylva watched as he collided on the floor with streams of red leaking from the wound. There it was, the music that she had longed for. Ylva moved next to Ivar while Godric writhed on the floor like the pathetic sobbing mess that he was. Without letting her eyes wander from her prey she started pawing at Ivar's belt to find the tools. Ivar chuckled and shifted his hips so that she was feeling at his groin instead. Ylva stumbled upon the bulge and lifted her eyes to glare at her lover. He smiled wickedly and moved under her palm while Godric continued crying. Ylva sighed at his lack of focus.

“No tools means no blood and that means no reward for you.” Ivar pouted but dropped his hips back to the floor.

“Close the door, and keep and eye on him.” She ordered. Ivar slammed the door shut and then repositioned so that he sat with Godric leaning against his lap, one hand pressing against the thegn's throat and the other holding one of his spikes against the man's sweaty temple. Ylva inspected the tools.

“What should I start with?” She mused. Ivar sucked in his bottom lip and let his eyes sweep over the trembling man.

“You could break his other knee and then draw blood from his back.” He suggested. Ylva remained silent, as if she wasn't quite satisfied with that idea; then she cursed loudly. Godric jumped in shock; even though he couldn't understand the words it was clear that any sudden outbursts of anger didn't bode well for him. The sudden movement prompted Ivar to press down harder on the thegn's throat.

“What is it?” Ivar asked while Godric sputtered..

“We should've brought rope.” She muttered. Ivar loosened his grip and Godric drew in a shaky breath.

“How do you want him tied, little wolf?”

“I want him on his stomach with his arms tied together. His legs too.” Ivar nodded.

“Take the knife. I will hold him down and you cut into his tunic; then we use it to tie him.” Ylva picked up Ivar's knife and crawled to his side; she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before getting to work. Godric squirmed frantically and the slashes came out uneven but it didn't matter; she just wanted it to be done so that they could move on to the more fun parts. She stuffed a piece of the fabric in Godric's mouth, tied his hands together and then his legs under Ivar's watchful eyes. She checked the knots one last time.

“Let's move him.” They pushed Godric onto his stomach and turned his head to the side to make sure that he would see them. Ivar leaned his back against the wall and stretched his legs out in front of him. Ylva clambered on top of him and crashed her lips to his while Godric writhed to her left. Ivar grabbed her hips and dragged her back and forth over his groin until she mewled into his mouth. When the broke apart to catch their breath Ylva reached for the hem of her dress.

“Help me undress.” She said. Ivar eagerly obliged, nearly tearing the fabric in the process. Once he had lifted it over her head he motioned to toss it away but Ylva stopped him.

“Now we make this piece of shit watch us.” She purred, prompting Ivar to buck his hips up and growl. Together they forced Godric to turn his head and Ylva's bunched up dress acted as a support to make it more difficult for him turn away.

“Make yourself ready for me.” Ylva whispered as she slipped of Ivar's lap. He tried to touch her one more time but she was already climbing on top of their hysterical prey. Ivar hurried to pull his shirt over his head so that he wouldn't miss the first cut. He saw Ylva slowly sink the blade to touch against Godric's back and the man let out a muffled scream while squeezing his eyes shut. The first drops of blood started to well out and Ivar hurried to untie his pants so that his cock no longer had to strain against them. Ylva made sure to keep the cuts shallow; she intended to play with Godric for a long time and this was only the beginning. Right now, all she needed was enough blood to please her lover. She could hear Ivar panting and when she stole a look out of the corner of her eye he looked almost as if he was in pain. He was sweating and writhing, one hand firmly planted around his cock.

“Hurry up.” He whined when he noticed her looking. Ylva drew a few more lines in Godric's skin and then dragged her hand over his back, letting it take up as much of the warm liquid as possible. She could hear Ivar gasp when she turned back towards him and let her now stained hand descend on to his waiting erection to colour it red.

“Don't worry, my warrior; I'll take good care of you. You just make sure that he watches.” She whispered while placing herself between his legs. Ivar reached out and slapped Godric to make him open his eyes again. Ylva bit her lip as if to stop herself from laughing at Godric's distressed noises; then she stuck her tongue out and went to work. Ivar clenched his fists together and forced himself to stay put as the overwhelming sensation of her tongue moving from root to tip swept over him. Ylva licked him clean, then looked up to see that Ivar's chest and face had turned an angry shade of red and his knuckles white from the strain of holding back. She lowered her head again and grabbed one of Ivar's hands, guiding it to her hair. He caught on to what was happening and pushed her down on his cock; it took him five savage thrusts before he spasmed and emptied down her throat.

“Come up here again.” He demanded, out of breath, while pulling at her arms. Once Ylva straddled him again his hand found its way between their bodies. He worked two fingers inside her while she nuzzled her head against his shoulder and rocked her hips to meet him. The sounds of her pleasure combined with Godric's ragged sobs made for a perfect combination, already making him erect again, and he became even more convinced that their union was a gift from the gods. Her warm skin and soft flesh melting together with him, the way she looked at him, her lips, hands, walls around his clearly functioning cock; nothing this good could be without a touch of divinity.

“Greedy little girl, why do only you get to taste the Saxon blood?” Ivar growled. Then he grabbed her hair, pulled her away from his shoulder and bit down on her breast. Ylva called out his name as if it was a curse word and relaxed on top of him. She took a deep breath to calm herself from the orgasm, then pushed him away and swept her hand over Godric's back again. The blood had already started to dry but she managed to collect enough to soak two of her fingertips. When she turned to Ivar he instantly opened his mouth and let her slip the fingers between his lips. Once he had sucked up every last drop of it he bit down on her fingers. She hissed at him and retracted her hand. Ivar tightened his grip on her waist and pushed her down to meet the rolling movements of his hips.

“More. Cut him again.” He demanded. Ylva scrambled to find the knife on her right side.

“Take away the gag, I want to hear him properly this time.” She demanded in return. Ivar reached his hand out and yanked the fabric from their prey's mouth. Godric started to beg but when Ylva slashed at his back again the pleading words morphed into a scream. He continued to wail as she made another two marks. This time she cut much deeper and the blood welled out from the wounds.

“Shut him up again.” She ordered. Ivar stuffed the gag back in Godric's mouth. Ylva dropped the knife on her right side again and let both her hands become soaked in the warm liquid. Ivar joined in, letting one hand drag over the thegn's back. Her warrior looked at her expectantly and she knew what he wanted; she ground her hips against him while dragging her hands over every part of her skin that she could reach, all the while moaning softly. Ivar traced up and down her back, making sure that it too would be covered. Once he was satisified with their work he slapped her ass to get her attention. They locked eyes with each other, studying the darkness that shone clearly from both of them. So beautiful.

“Now you ride me, like you promised.” He lined himself up and Ylva sank down, moaning as his length found its way inside her.

“My lover, my warrior.” She whispered while starting to grind against him. Ivar threw his head back so hard that it smacked against the wall. He groaned but she wasn't sure if it was in pain or in pleasure. Knowing him, it was probably both. Ivar started to move with her and his hands greedily grabbed at whatever he could reach.

“Little wolf, I wish you could dress in blood every day.” He panted while squeezing her ass. His skin was growing flushed again from the increasing pleasure and heat that they generated together. She bared her teeth at him and snarled.

“Taste the Saxon blood again; your goddess demands it.” Ivar whined and she could've sworn that his cock twitched inside her.

“Now.” She hissed. He leaned in and briefly nuzzled his head between her breasts; then his tongue touched against her skin and she sighed happily. It moved in long strokes over her chest as it cleaned away the crimson from her pale skin and Ylva knew that she wouldn't last much longer.

“Ivar.” She said softly. He hummed in response but didn't lift his head from her chest “Your goddess wants to taste your blood now.” Another twitch inside her and Ivar lifted his head, a soft whimper escaping his mouth. She captured his lips in a deep kiss and bit down so that she could feel his blood drip into her mouth. She shuddered uncontrollably on top of Ivar while his nails dug into her waist and his hips shot up one last time as he emptied himself inside her. Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, the one next to Ylva and the one under her. Ivar clung to her while his chest heaved.

“You, you're going to be my princess.” He managed to get out between the convulsions. Ylva was on the verge of asking him what he meant when he spoke up again.

“You're going to marry me.”

Chapter 33: He's had enough air

Notes:

Torture (drowning). Some unintended (?) exhibitionism and a little bit of blood.

Blaeja sighed happily into Sigurd's mouth as his hand found the hem of her nightgown and started pulling it up. It hadn't been easy, getting used to sharing a bed with her pagan husband. She had heard many frightening stories of how girls who were married of to strangers often found themselves either abused or ignored while the husband kept a string of mistresses; but Sigurd, he seemed to be a different kind of man. Now, after a few weeks of marriage, she had surprised her husband by initiating this intimate moment instead of waiting until he decided that he couldn't contain himself any longer. It was a strange feeling, thinking herself lucky to have been sold to a man that showed concern for her well being; shouldn't that be something that came as a natural part of a marriage? Sigurd's kind manners were shocking and heart warming enough for her to sometimes forgive the fact that his kin were invading her home.

“Husband.” She whispered against his lips while sliding a hand under the thin tunic to feel at his flat stomach. Sigurd whimpered quietly and pressed a little closer to her; she had warmed up so much more to him now that he was her only security. Hildur had announced that she would return to Kattegatt and the rift between Blaeja and Ylva had only grown because of Wassa. The door slammed open and Ubbe barged in.

“Brother, are you up?” Blaeja pulled back from Sigurd with a loud squeal, abruptly ending their kiss and pulling the covers over her head.

“Relax, wife, you're still in your nightgown.” Sigurd murmured in what he hoped was a reassuring tone before turning to Ubbe.

“What is it?” He sighed.

“Get dressed, we have much to do today.” The older brother said firmly.

“The new thegn doesn't arrive until this afternoon, what does it matter to you if we miss breakfast?”

“Ivar has some sort of announcement to make.” Ubbe said with a shrug of his shoulders. Sigurd scoffed and scooted closer to Blaeja again, who was still hiding under the covers.

“Well now I'm really excited to get up.”

“The other leaders will be there, as well as some others that Ivar has invited, it would look bad if not all the brothers show up.” Sigurd groaned loudly but he gave in.

“We will be there; if I can convince my wife to come out of hiding.”

 

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Floki squealed loudly while tousling both Ivar and Ylva's hair in an almost violent manner. Ubbe stared in silence at the young couple, not sure how to react. Most of the gathered people seemed to share his uncertainty.

“You're getting married?” Sigurd asked in a shrill voice while Blaeja dug her nails into his hand.

“Are you deaf?” Ivar grunted, never lifting his eyes away from Ylva that sat tightly pressed against his chest. Can she never sit in her own chair? Sigurd thought angrily. He loved Blaeja, and the way her smooth, pale skin felt against his. He wanted nothing more than have her sit on his lap at all times, her body pressed against his. But they were king and queen now and needed to act that way. His little brother and that girl were like some wild animals, always clawing at each other and thinking only about what depraved things they could do together. Sigurd had seen how Ylva had rubbed herself against Ivar while Blaeja confronted Godric about his crimes and he had seen Ivar lean in to whisper something in Ylva's ear. It sickened him.

”Ubbe, will you be one of the witnesses?” Ubbe forced himself out of his shocked state.

”Of course, Ivar. I did it for Sigurd, it is only fair that I do the same for you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ubbe could see Sigurd making some strange grimace.

”And Hildur, we would like for you to be a witness as well.” Ylva added, flashing a hopeful smile at the seamstress. Hildur, being one of the few that had reacted with immediate joy, answered quickly and with a proud look spreading over her face.

“It would be an honour.”

“Ylva and me were hoping that you'd officiate the wedding, Floki.” The boatbuilder tousled Ivar's hair again.

“You mad cripple, do you really have to ask?” Floki wiggled a finger at Ylva “You had best be a good little wife; keep him alive for me when he does something reckless.” Ylva giggled a little and nodded eagerly at his words.

“It has to be special Floki, this will be the first Viking wedding in our new piece of land. We need to honour the gods and cement that our people are here to stay.” Ivar said while stroking Ylva's hair, thinking to himself that he should cut it again. Floki looked almost insulted by Ivar's words.

“Have I ever failed you, hmm?” The gathered crowd looked to Björn, nervous about the fact that he hadn't said anything yet. His face gave away nothing as he stared straight ahead at his youngest brother and the blonde on his lap, but his lack of words sent a clear message. The tension was rising quickly and Ivar glared back at Björn while tightening his grip on Ylva. Suddenly, the silence was broken as king Harald cleared his throat.

“I believe that a toast is in order.” He raised his cup and waited for everyone else to follow. It took some time, but after a few seconds of awkward silence people began to follow suite.

“To prince Ivar and his betrothed; Ylva...?” He looked over at the young couple with a crooked smile, waiting for one of them to speak up.

“My father's name was Geirr.” Ylva answered in an unsteady voice; she struggled everyday not to think of her family but sometimes they made it into her dreams. Ivar placed a kiss on the top of her head to soothe her.

“Ylva Geirrsdottir. Skål!” Harald finished.

“Skål!” The words echoed through the room and Ylva tried to capture Ivar's lips in a kiss. He held back for a second, glancing over at the king. Harald leaned towards Halfdan and whispered something while the gathered leaders fell into a wide range of discussion topics. Fear and anger welled up inside him; Finehair was already planning something. Then Ylva bit his neck, clearly upset that he wasn't giving her attention, and he hurried to find her hungry lips. As their mouths melted together the fear and anger started to fade. Everything would be all right; if Finehair and his brother tried something he would kill them and lick their blood from Ylva's body. The thought egged him on, causing him to deepen the kiss until they both had to catch their breath. The crowd was still buzzing and Ivar growled into Ylva's ear.

“Come.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Wife-to-be.” Ivar mused “It sounds almost as good as little wolf, I think.” Ylva giggled and leaned over Godric's submerged head to place a kiss on Ivar's cheek.

“I think we need to let him breathe for a moment, husband-to-be, or all the fun will be over much too quickly.” Ivar obeyed, pulling Godric's head back over the surface. The man gasped for air while the water splashed around him.

“I like both.” Ivar said.

“What?” Yla asked with her brow creased in confusion. Godric had started to recover from his time under water and immediately began to wail again. Ivar spoke, raising his voice so that she would be able to hear him over the sobbing and crying.

“Warrior and husband-to-be; I didn't think I'd ever be called either of them.” Something dark clouded Ylva's eyes and her hand moved as if in a blur; she slapped Godric, hard enough to make his bottom lip crack. Ivar's eyes widened as he saw a small drop of blood emerge from the wound.

“Shut up, I'm trying to speak with my betrothed.” Ylva hissed, before turning to face Ivar again “He's had enough air, my warrior.” Ivar's lips morphed into a cruel smile as he locked eyes with Godric. The man cried and begged but to no avail; with a painful grip and harsh shove from Ivar, his head was once again under water. Ylva moaned loudly and Ivar quickly turned to look at her instead. Her eyes were closed and she swayed back and forth, her hands working at her nipples.

“That is my job.” Ivar hissed.

“Ssssh, my warrior.” She murmured while sliding one hand further down her body until it disappeared under the surface “You just take care of Godric, and I'll make sure that I'm ready for you.” Ivar huffed but did as she said. The noises he made sounded almost angry, like an agitated animal. He was so caught up watching her that she had to remind him again to let Godric breathe. There was a knock on the door.

“Go away!” Ivar shouted in the general direction of the noise, his gaze firmly planted on Ylva and the way that she squirmed with one of her hands nestled between her legs. Whoever was at the door either didn't hear or ignored the command. The door swung open and the Erik, who always did Björn's bidding, came inside.

“What do you want?” Ivar snarled.

“The new thegn is here, they want to introduce him to all the leaders.” Ivar turned back to Ylva, trying to devour her with his gaze. She winked at him playfully and continued her motions.

“Mmm, but I am not a leader. Björn is the leader of this army, he has made that very clear.” He growled while moving closer to her. Erik swallowed nervously; Björn had been very angry at him after he had failed to look after Wigmund.

“Please, they are waiting for you.” Ivar cursed himself silently. He wanted to stay here in the bath with Ylva but he had always prided himself on observing people and getting to know them; he had to meet the man.

“I have to go, we will have to continue with this some other time.” He murmured, his face so close to Ylva's that his breath fanned over her skin. She pouted and gave up a small whimper in an attempt to make him stay; he could see that her hands were moving more eagerly now.

“Don't.” He warned and started to pull away. Ylva let go of her own flesh and grabbed on to him.

“Wait. Do something for me before you go.” Ivar nodded and waited for her to say what it was.

“Hold his head still, upright.” She whispered. Ivar latched on to Godric's head and followed her instructions. Ylva moved so that she was in front of Godric. Together they watched their prey squirm as she slowly lifted a finger to his bottom lip. What does my little wolf have planned now? Her fingernail raked over the mark she had made there and blood began to run from it again. Ivar's heart hammered furiously and he felt a pleasant twitch in his cock. A nervous voice came from the door.

“Prince Ivar, we really have...”

“Shut up.” Ivar growled. How could they think he was about to leave for some dull meeting when this goddess that had agreed to marry him clearly had something far better planned. His mind felt clouded as he watched Ylva close the distance between her and Godric; and when she latched on to the wound with her own mouth he couldn't stop himself from moaning loudly. He found himself pressing closer and closer against both her and Godric as she sucked away the blood. Finally, she let go of their prey; a small pop reaching Ivar's ears as her mouth disconnected from the raw flesh.

“How does it taste?” He asked with an unsteady voice.

“Even better, now that it's fresh from the wound.” She let her lips brush against Ivar's neck “You should try it, husband-to-be.” She scraped at the wound again, drawing more blood for Ivar to taste. She shoved Ivar's hands aside so that she could hold Godric still for him.

“Taste him.” Ylva whispered. Ivar closed his lips around the wound and took in the warm liquid. Ylva was right; it tasted so much better now that it flowed directly from their prey. It was warmer than before, and tasted...more. Stronger, more full of life. I should do this before battle, to strengthen myself. Godric shivered violently under him and Ivar could feel the tears rolling down the broken man's cheeks. A thought broke through the fog that surrounded his mind; I need to pull away so that I can take Ylva. Before he could act on this thought a hand wrapped around his length and started slowly pumping him. Ivar opened his mouth slightly, moaning into Godric's face.

“Finish drinking him.” Ylva encouraged him. Ivar continued sucking at the cracked lip while Ylva worked his cock. When Ivar came, he roared loudly before biting down on Godric's lip, opening another wound there. Ylva knew that her prey couldn't get very far and so she let go of him. She reached an arm up to drag her fingers through Ivar's hair. His breathing was ragged and he looked at her with soft eyes. She thought he was about to speak when Erik's voice cut through the air again.

“My prince, they are waiting for you.” Ivar's features grew harsh again.

“Are you still here?”

“Your brother sent me to...”

“Fine.” He snapped before turning back to Ylva “You had better be waiting for me in bed, little wolf. Or I'll be very cross with you.” She dragged her hands over his sculpted chest.

“Go. But be quick about it.”

Chapter 34: It will be a new day

Summary:

Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but I've been really sick and then I had requests to catch up with. Here it is (finally): Ivar and Ylva's wedding! :D

Ivar crawled towards the bath, closely followed by his attendants. He undressed, for once not all that bothered by the fact that his legs were about to be exposed. On this day he could even contend with Sigurd's presence. Ubbe blabbered on about the importance of keeping ones wife happy but Ivar filtered it out and sank down into the warm water. What does he know? He's not even going back to Kattegatt, to Margrethe. It was a bit boring really, taking a bath without Ylva there but it was part of the wedding ceremony and he wasn't about to anger the gods. Ivar proceeded to wash himself, giving up the occasional hmm and grunt as Ubbe blabbered on. He cleaned his fingernails as thoroughly as possible and a vivid image hit him; his hands relieving her of the wedding-dress and then travelling over her skin while she begs for him to take her. Ubbe's voice interrupted this pleasant daydream.

“What are you smiling at, brother?” Ivar lifted his head slowly and glanced smugly at Sigurd before answering.

“I was just thinking about how I will fuck my wife senseless tonight.” His statement was followed by a shocked silence. Then Hvitserk broke into laughter while Ubbe just sighed and shook his head. Sigurd said nothing, simply huffed and looked away. Ivar returned to scrubbing himself clean. It had been ten very intense days, planning and preparing for the wedding. Now it was finally Frigga's day and before it was over he would call Ylva wife. It had seemed almost as if she didn't care for any of the preparations and he had found himself having to swat away her greedy little paws time and time again so that he could focus on the tasks at hand. He had lost count of all the extra coins and trinkets he had given to Hildur in return for her putting everything else aside to focus on crafting the perfect wedding-dress. She had protested at first but after a while the seamstress had caved and accepted the various bribes, a strange look of amusement in her eyes as she bowed her head and promised to make sure that Ylva would look appropriate for the occasion.

Ivar pulled himself out of the bath and crawled to the wooden tub that stood waiting on the floor. He heaved himself into the cold, scented water and resisted the urge to scream as it chilled his legs. It is all right. I will be warm again soon. Once he had cleansed and dried himself he dressed in his trousers and tunic. The tunic wasn't new but Hildur had made some alterations to it to make it more suitable for the occasion. The dark fabric now had intricate details in a shade of green that, according to Hildur, fitted well with his hair and eyes. His trousers were nothing special, but they were whole, soft and fit him perfectly. The seamstress had tried to convince him into letting her decorate his outfit more but he had stubbornly replied that she didn't need anything distracting her from making the dress. Finally, he laid the Mjölnir pendant to rest around his neck; remembering the time it had gotten caught in his shirt and Ylva had to help him untangle it so that he could undress. She had laid down on her back and spread her legs for him so willingly. Once again, Ubbe shook him from his daydreaming.

“It's time to go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar's eyes flicked back and forth and his hands twisted in his lap. He shifted in his chair, overcome with a sudden worry that she wouldn't come. Maybe the Saxons had sent someone to sneak into the camp and steal her away, or maybe she didn't want to come. He was tempted to throw a rock at the cage to make the sobbing grow louder so that he would have something to distract him. Floki playfully smacked the back of his head, forcing him out of his disheartening thoughts.

“Look.” The boatbuilder said under his breath and pointed in the direction of the villa. Both Ivar and Ubbe turned their heads to see. There she came, following Arne as he lead the way and with Hildur a few steps behind her. Hildur and her understatements; Ylva looked far beyond appropriate. Ivar had cut her hair again yesterday, more evenly this time since he had better shears and a bit of help from the seamstress. It hung to right above her shoulders, unbound and moving in the gentle breeze. A woven crown of straw, wheat and flowers rested on her head. She walked with her crutches but her movements seemed so light and natural that she could've been mistaken for someone with a fully functioning body. The only thing that could've made her look more like a goddess was some blood splattered on her. Soon. The trio closed in on him and he noticed that the patterns on her white dress were made in the same green that adorned his tunic. While Ylva discarded her crutches Ivar nodded at Arne, silently thanking him for leading her here. Hvitserk had surprised Ivar by volunteering to do this. Floki had explained that Hvitserk had actually defended Ylva when Sigurd was raging about how she attacked Blaeja, and that he had agreed with Ubbe about it being wrong to place her in a cell. Maybe it would have been the more correct choice in the eyes of the Vikings; Ylva had no male relative to guide her down the aisle and surely her brother-in-law had to be the second best thing. Nevertheless, Ivar had promised Ylva that none of his brothers would touch her again and so he had asked the blacksmith instead. He had spoken to Ylva about thanking Hvitserk for defending her but she only became enraged.

“So there were two of your brothers who didn't want me beaten and locked up, yet they couldn't stand up to Björn?” She had snarled and Ivar had hurried to agree with her that Hvitserk didn't deserve any sort of thanks. Her anger and hurt became his. His brothers said they wanted to help and still they left her in a cell with him curled up on the floor outside; they were not worthy of any thanks.

She settled down in the chair opposite to him, her feet did not quite reach the ground and he couldn't stop himself from teasing her about it.

“My tiny little wife.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he broke into laughter. Floki giggled lightly and even Ubbe's serious face turned into a smile, in spite of the sobs that came from the wooden cage that stood on the ground between him and Floki.

“Quiet now, so that we can get married.” She chided them, something that would have sounded much more serious if she hadn't been fighting off a smile too. Floki managed to pull himself together and carried on with the ceremony. First he brought out a goat and slit its throat, then he gathered the blood in a wooden bowl. He took the bunched together fir-twigs and dipped them in the sacrificial bowl. The fir-twigs moved quickly through the air; first downwards and then from left to right to form Thor's hammer. The blood stained her face; now she was a goddess, his goddess. Floki gestured at the cage next to him and a warrior that had been silently observing stepped forward

“We have another sacrifice to bless this union and to please the gods.” The crowd that had been chatty so far, as were common at the Viking weddings, fell silent. The cage was opened and the warrior dragged the crying Godric outside. He was placed on the ground in front of Ylva, his back resting against the front of her chair. He wasn't tied up, there was no need for that after what had been done to him. Ivar had asked Ylva if she was sure about killing Godric, if she didn't want to play with him some more.

“No, I am done with him. When we wake up after our wedding night, it will be a new day.” He had agreed with her wish; how could he ever do anything other than give her what she wanted? It was the perfect end to this pathetic man's life; something that would please the gods and mark their wedding as something extraordinary. The last ten days had all involved nightly visits to Godric; each one longer and more fulfilling than the previous one. Ylva had thought that Ivar needed to make up for all the times he shooed her away during the days and he had been happy to oblige. Now she smiled at Ivar, her face serene as he gave her the knife.

“Gods, we offer to you this Saxon noble who has gravely mistreated one of our own. Freja, protector of children, this is a man who harms little ones and we rid this world of him to keep them safe.” While Floki spoke Ylva admired how the polished blade shone. Another bowl was placed under Godric's throat. Ivar met Ylva's gaze once more, flashing white teeth at her in a loving smile. She broke their eye contact and the sun reflected on the blade as she lowered it to the thegn's throat. His blood ran down into the bowl, his hands trying to cover the wound but there was nothing he could do to save himself. Godric's body slumped to the side and Ivar let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding in. Once again the fir-twigs formed a hammer and sprayed them both with human blood. Ylva didn't look serene anymore; now she looked hungry and Ivar had to bury his nails deep into the armrests of his chair to keep himself from lunging at her and having her right there and then. The warrior silently dragged Godric's body away.

“Now the swords.” Ivar turned in his chair to take the sword from Ubbe. Holding it up in front of him, he spoke.

“This sword belonged to my father, whom you know I admired greatly. I give it to you for safekeeping...” he took a deep breath “so that our son one day may receive it.” Ylva took her sword from Arne's outreached hands and held it in front of her. It had been given to her by Hildur and Arne. At first she had protested against this gesture of theirs, saying that their own children might take offence. Hildur would have none of it, stubbornly saying that all of their children were already married and that Arne was a blacksmith; he had plenty of weapons.

“I do not have any weapon of my family. Instead I offer you this, Ivar, a sword given to me by two people that I know we both admire; the man who lead me here to you and the woman who has agreed to be a witness. They have always favoured our union and so I hope that this will suffice, both for you and for the gods, to show that I give myself to you.” The gods had better accept it or I will find them and overthrow them, Ivar thought to himself.

Floki saw the way both Ivar and Ylva's eyes were burning and had the good sense to continue the ceremony immediately.

“Now the rings.” Ivar and Ylva both slid a ring over the tip of their respective swords. Floki takes a step forward, closing the distance between himself and the couple and grabs Ivar's face.

“Ivar, do you swear that you want to marry this woman?” Ivar's voice was strong and clear as he answered.

“I swear it.” Floki giggled and couldn't stop himself from tousling Ivar's hair just a little before letting go of him. He cupped Ylva's face in his bony hands and repeated the question.

“Ylva, do you swear that you want to marry this man?”

“I swear it.”

“Are you sure?” Floki asked again, a devious grin on his face. Ivar rolled his eyes as Ylva laughed.

“Yes, I am sure.” She said while wrinkles of amusement lingered around her eyes. Floki shrugged his shoulders as if to say your loss and let go of her. They crossed the blades and Ivar lifted the ring from Ylva's sword while she lifted the one from his. Once the rings were secure on their fingers, they traded swords. Ylva handed Ragnar's sword to Arne for him to keep an eye on during the rest of the ceremony and Ivar held the new sword out. They joined their hands together on the hilt and said their vows.

Ylva spoke first and Ivar clung to every word that came out of her tempting mouth.

“Ivar, I promise that I will spend the rest of my life with you. That I will share your bed, share in your joy, comfort you whenever you may need me to, take care of your wounds should anyone ever manage to harm you. Whenever you return from a battle or raid I will be there to welcome you home. I promise that I will tend to your legs because they are a part of you and believe me when I say that I treasure each and every part of you. You are my family. Everything you have done for me I will gladly spend a lifetime to repay.” Her hands clasped on to his a little tighter “I am honoured to bind myself to you, Ivar the Boneless, because you are the most capable man I have ever met.” The derogatory nickname given to him by his father had never sounded half so sweet as when she said it amidst praising him.

There was a slight tremor in Ivar's voice as he began to speak but it gradually became steadier.

“Ylva, you speak of repaying me, as if you owe me something; but you have already done so much. Now I'm going to say something and you had better enjoy it because I'm not saying it in front of people ever again:” He sat up a little straighter and sighed as if he couldn't believe he was about to say this “I love you.” Ylva squealed loudly and dug her nails into his hands almost painfully.

“Hush.” He chided but it was obvious that a smile threatened to break through his serious mask “Little wolf, I promise to protect you and to strike down anyone who would dare try to harm you. I will chase away all of your nightmares and care for you. I promise to find Aethelwulf and punish him for his crimes against you. Ylva, you will bathe in his blood.” He squeezed her hands and then nodded to Floki. Ylva removed her hands from the hilt and Ivar fastened the sword to his belt. Floki looked at them, then spread his arms and spoke loudly.

“Then you are married.” Cheers broke out and the attendants stepped forward to congratulate the newlyweds. Ivar and Ylva didn't hear any of it. She was already settling on his lap while his arms snaked around her to pull her close. She found his mouth and kissed him until he was out of breath. Ivar could've sworn he saw stars as he broke the kiss. His hands were already exploring the back of her dress, seeing what he had to work with.

“I hope that you told Hildur to make sure it's easy to remove.”

 

Notes:

Inspiration for the wedding ceremony

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3sjvkUQ7y4

http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/wedding.shtml

Chapter 35: Bedding

Summary:

The bloodlust couple gets drunk and horny, and Ivar decides that sexy time with his wife can't wait until the bedding ceremony.
Also, a peek into the future.

Ivar took the cup of mead from Ylva's outstretched hands. Under the attentive look of the gathered crowd he blessed the drink with the sign of Mjölnir.

“To Odin!” He took a sip and then passed it to Ylva.

“To Freja!” She took a sip and placed the cup on the table. Ivar crawled to his seat while Ylva followed. Once they were both sitting down, Ivar found Ylva's hand and held it tightly as Thor's hammer was placed in her lap. Floki began reciting the verse meant to invoke Frigga and ensure Ylva's fertility. The hammer was removed again and they scooted a bit closer to each other so that their legs were pressed together. Ivar filled a plate with enough food to fill both of their stomachs.

“Here, wife. You need to eat.” Ivar lifted a piece of chicken from the plate and held it out to her. Rather than taking it into her own hand, she bent down and nabbed it with her bloodstained lips. The corners of Ivar's mouth turned up into a wide smile as her lips brushed over his fingertips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

”Give me your axe, husband.” Ylva slurred into his ear, interrupting his conversation with Floki. Ivar pulled her in for a kiss and she giggled as he ran his tongue along her bottom lip. When he pulled back she was out of breath and her eyes sparkled, her arms stretched out in front of her as she waited for him to place the axe in her hands. He could sense Floki holding his breath. Ivar shook his head at this precious little drunken being that he had married.

”No.” She narrowed her eyes at him and pouted. Then, she apparently had a better idea of how to get her hands on the weapon. She moved closer and lifted her left leg to rest over Ivar's right one. Her hand disappeared in his thick hair and began to massage his scalp. Ivar was still sober enough to know what she was up to but he would enjoy it as long as he could. He raised his eyebrows at Floki who tried to hide his laughter by taking a swig of ale. She descended slowly; rubbing Ivar's shoulder, tracing the muscles of his arm, and then found his inner thigh. She leaned in to kiss him and the second that their lips touched her hand moved to his belt. Ivar immediately latched on to her wrist.

“Nice try.” He smirked and pulled back from her. Ylva glared at him angrily and removed her leg from his lap.

“Some husband you are.” A jolt went through her body as she hiccuped “Didn't Ubbe tell you to keep your wife happy?” Ivar only snorted in response. She moved away from him again and focused on the food at their plate while Ivar returned to his conversation with Floki. He let Ylva sulk for a few minutes before slipping his hand under the table and grabbing on to the fabric covering her legs. Ivar began lifting her dress, hiking the skirt further and further up. She was still sulking about him not giving her the axe and so at first she swatted him away.

”Don't pretend like you don't want me to touch you, wife.” She glared at him for a while then muttered something that he didn't understand and shifted in her seat, opening her legs for him. He smirked behind his cup as his hand discovered just how wet she was.

”What a naughty little wife I have, so hungry for me.” Ivar cooed in her ear with one finger briefly teasing at her entrance, causing her to inhale sharply.

“Trying to consummate the marriage already, hmm?” Floki snickered as he saw Ylva's cheeks turn red.

“Why not? There are plenty of witnesses here.” Ivar answered while rapidly circling the little nub that made his wife squirm in pleasure. Sigurd and Blaeja had opted to sit at the other end of the table and Björn was off discussing something with Halfdan but both Ubbe and Hvitserk were there; though right now they were discussing something in low voices and with their heads closely together. Ivar pushed a finger inside and she twitched in her seat with a moan escaping her mouth; her hips started to rock against his hand. The sound caught the attention of his brothers and they stared, jaws dropped, while Ivar whispered in Ylva's ear.

“See, wife, I don't need to give you my axe to make you happy. Just my fingers.” Her trembling fingers grabbed on to the front of his tunic and she buried her head against the side of his neck. He felt her legs quiver and he worked another finger inside her and let his thumb return to draw circles around the nub. She twitched again and then he felt her teeth sink into his neck as she climaxed. Ivar retracted his hand and pulled her dress back down; his wife got cold so easily and he didn't like the idea of having to spend the first part of their wedding night thawing her frozen feet.. Ylva muttered something against his skin and Ivar leaned in closer to hear.

“What did you say?” He asked. She repeated the words in a raspy voice.

“Where is Björn?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar traced the shaft of his axe. Maybe I should give it to Ylva, she would be so happy. And my brothers get to see what a good teacher I am. The thought of proving his brothers wrong twice in one night was certainly tempting. Ivar drained his cup again and then wrapped arm around Ylva to pull her even closer. She looked at him with glossed over eyes and a cheeky smile lighting up her flushed face. They had been waiting on Björn for over an hour; he needed to come back to the table and announce that it was time for the bedding. Ivar had quickly lost his patience and started downing cup after cup to to keep himself distracted but he paused every now and then to make sure that his wife was eating properly. He had just fed her some of the fruit and was about to ask if she wanted to borrow his axe to do some target practice when Björn finally returned to the table. While Ylva began dragging a finger over Ivar's features Björn stood next to them and called for everyones attention.

”It is time for the bedding. Who will witness it?”

”We will.” Ubbe, Hildur and Helga said as they rose from their seat. Ivar quickly turned to look at Ylva. She looked curiously at the boatbuilder's wife, then shrugged her shoulders and returned to tracing Ivar's jawline.

“Bring out the torches.” Björn ordered. The three witnesses took their torches and waited for the newlyweds to get up from their seats. Ivar pressed a sloppy kiss to Ylva's knuckles and then lowered himself to the ground while Ylva scrambled to find her crutches. Finally, she found them and she rose to her feet after having pushed her hair away from her face.

 

“You're not crawling behind me.” Ylva observed as they moved through the corridors toward the bedroom, her walking a bit unsteady “Have you already grown tired of looking at my ass?”

“No, I just know that I will have a much better view of it soon.” Ylva opened the door and the small group made their way inside. A large sheet was separating a part of the room and the witnesses quickly slipped behind it. Ivar sat down on the bed and motioned for Ylva to stand in front of him. She came to him so eagerly and his hands found the strings at the back of her dress. She discarded her crutches and he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her while he helped her slide the dress off her shoulders. Ivar let out a low growl when the fabric fell down past her nipples and he saw that they had already started to stiffen. Together they pulled the dress down the rest of the way until it was pooled around her feet. While he traced her shapes carefully, her hands found his tunic and began loosening the strings. Her sides weren't all that soft under his hands, still scrawny from her time as a prisoner. It didn't matter; he could see how much better she was doing. It was clear in the way that her hair was less of a tangled mess, in her skin no longer showing signs of dehydration, even in that cursed monthly blood that made her curl up under a pile of furs. He had nursed his little wolf back to health and he would continue doing so. Ivar lifted his arms one at a time, one hand always steadying her, so that she could remove his tunic.

“Husband.” She whispered while cupping his face and kissing the top of his head. She brought one of her hands to the front of his pants and Ivar let his free hand go there. They worked together at undoing the strings. Husband and wife helping each other; as it should be. Ivar patted next to him on the bed and Ylva crawled up behind him; he could stare forever at the way her hips swayed as she moved on top of the furs. She let her legs come to rest on each side of him while he shimmied out of his pants. Ylva's hands found the pendant and started playing with it. Her lips brushed against his neck as she spoke.

“Do you remember?”

“Yes. I thought about it while I was getting ready.”

“Thinking about me in the bath? Naughty boy.” She muttered and Ivar felt her teeth scrape against his skin.

“I wouldn't have to if you were there, wife.” Ivar pointed out while his pants finally fell to the floor. He glanced at Ylva over his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“From now on, I will always be there.” She sat up straight again and tugged at his hair. She moved further in on the bed, allowing Ivar to lie down in the middle of it. As soon as he had settled on the furs Ylva clambered on top of him. He reached between her legs, wanting to see if she was ready for him. His fingertips became coated with her moistness.

“See how you affect me, husband.” Ylva's hand moved to his cock and lined him up. She sank down and Ivar let out a content sigh as he was slowly enveloped in her warmth. He had thought that their first time together as husband and wife would be unhinged, possibly even violent; but now he found himself too overcome with emotions. She was his and he would have a lifetime of fucking her senseless; tonight he wanted them to take their time.

“Wife.” He whimpered and reached his hand out to clasp at hers. She responded immediately and laced her fingers between his. Ivar studied her face carefully, looking for pity or disgust one last time. He found none, only glossy eyes filled with excitement. He beckoned for Ylva to come closer and she leaned down until their noses were on the brink of touching.

“I love you.” He mouthed. It was barely audible but he knew that Ylva heard it and that was all that mattered. Those words were for her, not for any of the condescending arseholes who thought him both incapable and unworthy of affection. He saw Ylva wipe away a tear. She sat up again and began to move on top of him; each roll of her hips better than the previous one. Ivar brought a hand to her hip. Their eyes never left each other, not even when the witnesses slammed the door behind them. His wife tightened her grip around the fingers that were interlaced with hers while Ivar's other hand moved further up her body; slowly making its way to her breasts. He tended to them gently at first, then more roughly at she pressed herself further into his grip. Every mewl and whimper out of her delicious mouth was a reassurance and he was dead-set on pulling as many noises as possible out of her before the night was over. He twisted her hardened nipples, just the way he knew she liked, and watched as she writhed on top of him while riding out her second orgasm that night. She slowly came back to her senses and started moving again, more forcefully this time in her eagerness to please him. Ivar groaned loudly and forced himself to keep his eyes open so that he could look at her while his cock twitched and released his seed inside her. He stroked her lower back while calming down and blinking away tears. Now they were truly married.

“On your back, wife.” He said once he had pulled himself together. She slid off him and repositioned. Ivar covered her body with his and started planting light kisses on her cheeks and brow. Ylva quickly became frustrated and grabbed on to his hair in an attempt to guide him to her lips instead. He ignored her tugging and the kisses grew sloppier and sloppier as he continued counteracting her attempts to take control. Ivar was just about to kiss her left temple when she made it very clear that she'd had enough. She yanked his head backwards and hissed angrily while staring at him.

“Ivar...” She began in a stern voice but was cut short by his lips crashing against hers. He thought she grunted finally as he begged for entrance by nipping at her bottom lip. Their tongues met and Ivar tasted the mead on her. She whined when he pulled away.

“Yes, wife, let me hear you. Let me hear how much you want me.” He said softly while sliding further down her body. She inhaled sharply as he dragged his tongue over her hipbone.

“My Ivar, my husband. I want you to fuck me all night long and I want you to let me satisfy you until we are too spent to get up in the morning.” Ivar mumbled a string of yeses between nipping at her thigh. He felt at the curls between her legs, then lowered his head and tasted her sensitive flesh like it was the most rare of foods that he needed to take his time with to fully appreciate. Ylva continued whispering encouragements between the low moans and gasps and Ivar succeeded in pleasing his wife yet another time. As he retreated from between her legs, he heard her sob. Tears rolled down her eyes and Ivar instinctively found her hand, grasping her small one in his own large.

“Why are you sad?”

“I'm not; I'm happy.” She snivelled “You make me very happy, husband.” Ivar pulled himself up so that he was next to her and pulled her in for a warm embrace. They stayed like this for a short while, then set to pulling more noises out of each other. It was nearly midday before they finally dragged themselves out of bed, and even then it was only to visit the bath together and pick up where they had left off the previous night. They lost all sense of time and room; it was as if they were surrounded by a thick fog inside which they could only feel each other. It was complete bliss and Ivar would later beat his fists bloody and scream at himself for thinking that it would last, for thinking that the gods had stopped pissing at him.

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How could everything collapse so quickly? It had only been a few hours since they sat down outside the villa along with his brothers and held a feast to say goodbye to those who were to depart for Kattegatt in two days time. Everything had been fine then. She had been sitting next to him, eyes sparkling as they fed each other small pieces of fruit and talked about the raids they would go on.

“Please.” He sobbed, anger and despair burning through him as he clung to Ylva. She didn't respond.

Notes:

Inspiration for the wedding feast:

http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/wedding.shtml

Chapter 36: Yours

Summary:

In which we start with the day after the wedding and then skip ahead a bit. Contains mention of sex on a battlefield.

Notes:

WORDS

Dragreip - Halyard
Stag - Stay

”What were you thinking?!” Floki closed his eyes and pressed his palms tightly against his temples as his wife shrieked at him.

”Helga...” She pressed the trembling girl even closer and cut him off.

”Do you know how scared she was when I found her?”

”You know that I didn't mean for this to happen.” He answered, a little annoyed that Helga seemed to think he had done it intentionally but mostly ashamed that he had put the child in danger.

”I asked you to look after her while I witnessed the bedding. I needed you to look after our girl, only for a little while, and you couldn't do it.” Floki tried to speak up again but was once more interrupted by Helga.

”And this is not the only irresponsible thing that you've done, Floki.”

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Ivar and Ylva had briefly disentangled their bodies after bathing together. She sat on the edge of the bath, occupied with pulling a shirt over her head. Ivar watched her while putting his pants back on then the silence was broken by his stomach growling loudly and he remembered that they hadn't eaten since the night before. He moved closer to her and tugged at the wet hair that stuck to the sides of her neck.

“Are you hungry?” She turned and straddled him in one quick movement and his hands immediately went to her naked ass. Her teeth sunk into the skin right below his ear and she started leaving bitemark after bitemark on the side of his neck. Ivar shuddered at her ministrations; his little wolf was so very affectionate. She had always been but it seemed that hearing him call her wife had only served to make her more eager. What will it be like to come back from a raid, covered in Saxon blood, now that we are married? She had certainly shown that she enjoyed seeing him covered in the warm liquid. He imagined himself coming home from battle, his armour and skin splattered with red as he called out for his wife. She would push him onto his back and start pulling at his clothes, eager to feel him. Maybe she would even agree to meet me at the battlefield? It certainly wouldn't be the first time they'd have each other around the dead or dying; really the only the difference would be the scale of it. Ivar couldn't stop himself from moaning at the thought of it. For now though, his stomach protested loudly and he had to compose himself as best as he could while Ylva kept on tasting him.

“I meant for food, wife.”

“Hmm, I guess we should eat.” She murmured between bites. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her head back from his marked skin.

“I'll go find a servant to bring us something. You just go back to our room, undress and wait for me.”

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Ivar made his way toward the great hall, figuring that it shouldn't be that difficult to find a servant occupied with cleaning or something similar. It didn't take long before he saw a girl that seemed to have just changed someone's bedlinen and he waved for her to come to him.

“Yes, prince Ivar?”

“My wife and I are hungry; bring some food to our room.” She nodded and then scurried away in the direction of the kitchen.

“And don't forget water!” He called after her. Instead of turning back Ivar slithered in the direction of Floki's room. I should see how that old crook is doing; he had his fair share of drink yesterday. As he closed in on the room he heard upset voices; the boatbuilder and his wife were fighting again. Sounds like she didn't like her husband coming to bed so drunk that he couldn't tell a dragreip from a stag. Ivar wasn't particularly worried; they had been together for long and their marriage had been tested many times but they always came back to each other. He crawled closer and was just about to reach a hand out and knock on the door when Floki said something that made him freeze. What? Helga answered in a shrill voice, accusing Floki of not caring. Ivar's stomach began to churn when he realized that he had heard right.

”I was there; I heard her scream.”

“Why do you say such things?”

“Because it's true.” Ivar felt sick, as if he might throw up. He wanted to slam the door open and scream at the top of his lungs but he couldn't bring himself to do it; the horror of the words being spoken on the other side of the door had frozen him to the floor.

“You don't know the gods like I do, Helga. You don't know what they have planned.”

“I know Ivar; is it ever not this way with him?” Her words were like a knife through his heart. He wanted her to be wrong but he knew that she probably wasn't and that thought only served to increase the pain. He forced himself away from the door and began to drag himself back to Ylva's and his room. He wanted nothing more than to hide but she was waiting for him and he didn't want to disappoint her in any more ways.

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Wassa and Hild placed two plates on the table; one laden with meat and the other with a few different vegetables. They had also brought a large pitcher of water for which Ylva was very grateful; the combination of last night's drinking and the hot bath today had left her mouth dry. She heard a familiar dragging noise outside and Ivar came slithering inside.

“There you are; look what the girls brought us.” There was something strange in his eyes but she thought it best not to ask about it until they were alone again. She thought she could see something that might be anger in his eyes; which usually meant that he was actually sad. Ylva took each of the girls' hands and squeezed them gently.

“Thank you.” Wassa smiled softly but Hild was busy trying to look anywhere but at Ivar. As soon as the girls had closed the door behind them on their way out Ylva turned to Ivar.

“What is wrong?”

“It's nothing.” He muttered “I just...Floki and Helga are fighting again.”

“Oh.” She wanted to ask more but Ivar spoke up before her.

“Let's eat.” He pulled himself up on one of the chairs and began pouring water into both their cups while waiting for Ylva to join him at the table. They ate in silence and then returned to bed and laid down close together. Ylva was just about to make a new attempt at asking about Floki and Helga but once again Ivar spoke first.

“What is this?” He tugged at her clothes. She looked up at him and his intense gaze resulted in instant heat between her legs. He brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned in so that she could feel his lips touch against her cheek.

“Did I not tell you to undress?” His fingers found her pulse and he must have felt the way it sped up at his touch.

“We've been married for one day and you are already misbehaving.” He said and clicked his tongue in disapproval “On your stomach.” Ylva did as he said and Ivar nearly tore her pants in his hurry to get them down from her her hips. The blow was hard, almost too hard and she yelped in surprise. She dug her nails into a pillow and waited for the next blow to land but it never came. Instead, he scooted further down in bed and began to soothe the mark; both with long strokes of his tongue and with his hand. He continued like this for a long time then suddenly pulled back.

“Turn.” What happened today? Ylva thought to herself as she repositioned. Now that she was on her back again she tried to make eye contact with him but he kept his gaze firmly planted on her legs.

“Take off your shirt.” Once her shirt was on the floor, Ivar began to very carefully spread her legs. He still wouldn't look at her and it soon became impossible anyway as his head disappeared between her legs. She pulled at his hair and ground against his sharp jawline until he pushed her over the edge. She sunk back down on the covers with trembling limbs and eyes closed. A fur came to rest over her stomach and she felt Ivar pulling at it to make sure that it covered her properly. He laid down next to her though she felt as if the space between them was bigger than usual. She opened her eyes again and swiftly moved on top of him.

“I need you to warm me, husband.” She murmured while laying her head to rest at the crook of his neck. He nodded silently and pulled at another fur to cover them both. Her eyelids were heavy and she knew that she wouldn't be able to stay awake for long. Ivar's hand made its way to her buttock, the one he had struck, and started to carefully rub large circles there. Then he spoke up in a low voice.

“Was it too much?” He had never asked this after disciplining her; he usually settled for wrapping her in furs and pulling her close as they both calmed down. What has him so worried?  Ylva shook her head in response and he sighed.

“Good.” She thought she heard him murmur something about hurting her but she was already drifting off to sleep and so the thought slipped away from her.

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”You are distracted.” Ylva observed while working her fingers through Ivar's hair ”Is there something wrong?” Ivar sighed before answering.

”There are many things taking up my mind right now, wife. Part of the army leaving, the upcoming raids...” His voice trailed off and he added silently to himself Words that I shouldn't have heard. Ivar had accepted it, he knew it was true and he knew how to handle it. Still, there was a nagging feeling that wouldn't leave him.

“And” He added as she finished with his hair “you know how it is with Sigurd right now. It is ,well...” He didn't need to finish, she knew very well what was going on. Ivar inspected Ylva's work by brushing a hand over the braids. Two days after their wedding she had insisted that he let her do this seeing as his hair was starting to grow too long to simply let hang; it kept getting in the way. That first time it had felt very unusual, seeing himself in the mirror with his hair done up. Now it had been a week and he was starting to grow fond of the look.

”Thank you, wife.” He turned on his back and pulled her closer. He let his hands trace over her arms.

“I'm going to eat breakfast. Will you join me?”

“No, I've asked one of the servants to bring some breakfast to Hildur and Arne's room. I want to say a proper goodbye to her before they leave, thank her for everything that she's done.”

“She's a fine woman. She'll be missed.” He said sincerely. Ivar could see the smirk growing on Ylva's face and he could tell that she was about to tease him, tell him that he was getting soft.

“Don't.” He growled. She didn't say anything but the smirk only grew wider.

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Sigurd searched through the villa. He was hoping to find Björn and get some final advice before the oldest brother returned to Kattegatt. He hadn’t found Björn in the main part of the villa and so he now walked through one of the corridors furthest from the great hall. He heard voices coming from a room at the end of the corridor. Hildur's room, he suddenly remembered. Maybe Blaeja is saying goodbye to her, she said she'd do that today. He decided that he too should thank Hildur for having been so kind and helpful and continued towards the room. It was quiet in there right now. As he closed in on the door, he slowed down and began to reach his hand out. Then someone spoke up. It wasn't Blaeja's voice; it was Ylva's. She said something about Arne. Sigurd pulled his hand back and started to walk again. Then Hildur's voice came soaring through the door and Sigurd stopped again. Did she just say...? The words are a bit muffled but... The conversation started flowing again and Sigurd listened carefully to the two women on the other side while his heart beat frantically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ylva's heart swelled with pride as she listened to her husband. He spoke to the army with great passion and there was no doubt in her mind that many of them would choose to follow him.

“There are many other places that I want to attack and raid and those of you who feel like I do, you should come with me. And those of you who don't, ask yourself; who can stand in our way now?!” She smiled as the crowd began to cheer at his final words. He leaned back in his seat again and found first Ylva's hand, then her eyes. The way he looked at her, with blue fire burning away at her skin, made her legs tremble; he must've noticed it because his lips turned into a satisfied grin. He plucked a piece of fruit from their plate and rolled it teasingly between his fingertips right in front of her. Ubbe's voice cut through the fog.

“You cannot lead the army, Ivar.” Ivar turned his head slightly to look at his brother.

“I don't want to, Ubbe. All I am saying is that for those who are still craving after raid and adventure, then I will be here to lead them.” Ylva saw her opportunity and quickly nabbed the food from Ivar's hand, scraping his fingers in the process. He cursed loudly and pulled his hand back.

“Ah! If you are so hungry just take the plate and not my fingers.” He scolded and pushed the plate closer to her. Then, as if to further prove to his brothers that warriors would be willing to have him as their leader, Ivar turned to the army again.

“Who among you will follow me? Who will follow me into battle, for the love of fame and for the love of Odin; our all-father?!” Shouts and cheers filled the air and Ylva's hand came to rest on his leg. She wished she was sitting in his lap but he had told her that she needed to stay in her own seat while he addressed the army and she understood that. That didn't make it any less boring though. At the other end of the table, Sigurd rose abruptly.

“Ivar, you can't do this.” Of course he has to meddle in matters that are of no concern to him. Ivar's eyes hardened.

“Frankly, dear Sigurd, I do not care what you say. The truth is I wouldn't even piss down your throat even if your lungs were on fire.” He emptied his cup on the ground as he spoke, showing what he would do with his water if he had to choose between wasting it or helping his brother. Sigurd smiled cruelly and Ylva flinched; it reminded her too much of the look he'd had when asking her if Ivar had fucked her with his knife.

“Well, maybe that's because you're not really a man; are you, Boneless?” Laughter rippled through the crowd and Ylva felt Ivar tense up. She found his hand on the armrest of the chair and squeezed it tightly as she tried to distract him from Sigurd's words. Across the table Blaeja tugged at Sigurd's arm, a look of horror on her face as she tried to silence her husband. On Ylva's other side Ubbe hissed a warning but it seemed to go unnoticed because Sigurd spoke up again.

“I want to know what you threatened that poor girl with to make her pretend that she enjoyed your wedding night. Or did you pay her? She does have an awful lot of new clothes.” Ylva shrunk under his spiteful words and Ivar roared in anger.

“Do not speak about her in that way!” Ylva saw Ivar's hand move towards the axe that stood leaned against the chair and without thinking she jumped out of her seat and onto Ivar's lap, one of her hands coming to rest behind his neck and the other closing around the axe shaft. She struggled to force the axe out of Ivar's hand; he wasn't raising it but he wasn't letting go of it either. Ubbe saw what was happening and hurried to speak up.

“Don't listen to him, Ivar!” He's telling Ivar to stop being angry instead of telling Sigurd to stop provoking him? And no one else is intervening... She finally managed to get the axe out of Ivar's hand so that he couldn't raise it at Sigurd. Now that her hand was free she cupped her husband's face and pressed her nose against his.

“Ivar, look at me. Don't listen to him. I'm here, just look at me.” Ivar wrapped his unsteady arms around her and held her tightly while she continued trying to calm him. Sigurd's voice came soaring from the opposite end of the table.

“That begs the question; how many else in this camp has bought her?” Ivar snarled into her neck and grasped at her almost painfully. Ylva forced her tears back and pressed closer to Ivar, who struggled to stay still “I for one don't even believe that the baby she's having is yours.”

Notes:

I'm sorry that Sigurd is so mean in this... Look, he's really sweet with Blaeja (and we'll get to see more of that) but he doesn't exactly have the best relationship with Ivar and Ylva.

Chapter 37: The fourth promise

Summary:

Mention of: Abortion, near-death in childbirth, death in childbirth
Also contains murder threath and a lot of self-hatred.

Ivar pushed the door open and crawled inside their bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, her forehead creased with worry.

“Where have you been?” Ivar didn't answer. He dragged himself across the room so that he sat on the floor next to the bed. He hid his right hand in the pocket of his trousers and his left began to fiddle with a loose thread on his pants. He looked up at her and tried to smile softly in spite of the worry that coursed through his body.

“How did I not notice that your blood never came?” She shrugged her shoulders and reached a hand down to muss his hair.

“You've been busy. I didn't think of it myself at first.”

“We should've been more careful. I didn't think...” His voice trailed off and he gestured vaguely at her stomach. The feeling of her fingers moving over his scalp made it difficult to think and he forced himself to pull back. Her hand lingered in the empty air for a few seconds, probably in shock at his sudden retreat. Ivar steeled himself and pulled the leather pouch out of his pocket.

“Here.” He pressed it in her hand. She opened it and looked at the small leaves that Helga had given to him.

“What is this?” They way she said it made it sound as if she had already guessed what it was and what she really wanted to know was why he had brought this to her. Ivar could feel his plan slowly falling apart but he still thought that he could make her understand; she wasn't stupid. He shifted his gaze to focus on her hands; they were trembling. Of course she's nervous.

“I can make it for you, if you want. The tea.”

“Ivar...” She started but he talked over her.

“I asked Helga and she said it won't be that painful, since you're not very far along.” It wasn't the smoothest way of presenting this but for some reason he couldn't find the words now; every last bit of his usually so sharp mind seemed to have been numbed. She was still staring at the leaves and he hurried to reassure her.

“I will stay with you of course, when it happens. You should drink it as soon as possible.” Why is she so quiet? The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Then her hand closed into a fist around the pouch and she uttered a single word.

“No.” Ivar was so shocked that he didn't even register the way his heart began to hammer or the way his insides seemed to twist. He snapped his head up to look at her.

“No?” He echoed. She opened her hand again, stretched her arm out and released the pouch. It landed on the floor and the sight of the leaves scattering made Ivar snap out of his shocked state.

“You will die!” He could feel everything now; his heart getting ready to explode and his insides twisting as if it was a snake pit.

“Why? Women have always given birth and yes it doesn't always end well, but what makes you think that I will be one of those that die? The gods have stopped targeting you, you have said so yourself. Doesn't this prove that? You can have children, Ivar.”

“They will never stop!” He shouted “This, this is a test or something to make sure that I don't push my luck.” Ylva reached down and held on to both his shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was pleading and Ivar closed his eyes; She still doesn't understand. He tried to calm himself, control the storm inside him, so that he wouldn't frighten her.

“It will be like me; a cripple. My mother nearly died giving birth to me and she was strong, healthy. You will bleed to death, Ylva.” First, nothing happened. Then he felt her fingers dig deeper into his shoulders. He opened his eyes again and saw that her face was filled with determination. The sight made him lose control of the storm again and he snapped.

“You would leave me to take care of a child? I won't even be able to carry it!”

“Ivar, please just listen...”

“No, you will listen to what I have to say! It will scream and cry day in and day out and I won't be able to do anything about it.” Ylva shook her head almost violently but he kept on going “Even if you survive, there's nothing you can do either. No cure, no comfort...” She cut him off.

“You don't know what it will be like for our child. Your pain has gotten easier.”

“I had Harbard and his magic to help make my life slightly less miserable; this child will not have that opportunity.” Ylva put on her brave face, the same one she showed whenever Wassa came around.

“It will have me.” Her voice was so confident and he was so tempted to give in, to say that they could do this. He knew that they couldn't and he forced himself to look away from her.

“It will be a burden on your life, like I was to my mother.” He heard Ylva inhale sharply when he called himself a burden, as if it was some horrible thing to say and not just the truth.

“Your mother loved you.”

“I know. That doesn't change the fact that she had to spend all her waken time looking after me, that it took years before she had a chance of doing anything other than soothing me.” He gently wrapped one hand around her arm and pulled her down towards him.

“Do you remember when we left Rhodri's villa? We sat down in the woods that first night, I kissed you...” He softened his voice and let the fingers of his free hand trail over her neck and shoulder, following the same path that his lips had done that night “You asked me if I would make it so that an innocent, a child, was born with legs like mine; I said no. I'm doing what needs to be done.” He could see that his words had hit a nerve, that she hadn't expected him to turn these words on her. He saw her posture change as she moved from shock and hurt into stubbornness and anger; his heart sank as he realized that she had already set her mind to having this child. He clung to her as everything began to crumble underneath him. How could everything collapse so quickly? It had only been a few hours since they sat down outside the villa along with his brothers and held a feast to say goodbye to those who were to depart for Kattegatt in two days time. Everything had been fine then. She had been sitting next to him, eyes sparkling as they fed each other small pieces of fruit and talked about the raids they would go on. Now there was a hardness in her green eyes and he felt tears sting in his own.

“Please.” He sobbed, anger and despair burning through him as he clung to Ylva. She didn't respond. His wife stared at the wall and ignored his pleas. It wasn't until he moved one of his hands from her shirt to her cheek that she reacted. She swatted his hand away and shot him a glare full of fire that threatened to burn him alive.

“Well isn't this something. Ivar the Boneless, feared Viking and son of the great Ragnar Lothbrok is scared of having children.” The way she said his name now, with anger and spite, felt like a knife slowly twisting inside his heart.

“Ylva...”

“You promised that you would protect me.”

“I am protecting you! It will be a monster and it will tear you apart.” He had barely finished the sentence before Ylva gave up an angry shriek and shoved him away from her. He let go of her shirt and planted his palms against the floor in order to steady himself.

“Go.” She said. He didn't move, only stared at her with tears running down his cheeks. Ylva took the ring from her finger and threw it across the room. Ivar watched as it flew through the air, hit the wall and then landed next to the table.

“Go!” She screamed. My wife doesn't want me anymore. Ivar did what he did best; he forced the sadness back to give place for anger. He set his face into a scowl and when he turned to look at his wife the blue in his eyes were as hard as ice. Ivar could see her chest heave as she struggled not to panic.

“Fine. Keep it then. But I promise you that if it comes out like me I will do what my father was too weak to do; I will put it out of its misery.” He crawled out of the room as quickly as possible but right before the door slammed shut behind him he could hear Ylva break down in tears.

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“Why would them having children be a bad thing? He is a son of Ragnar, he has an important legacy to carry on. ”

“You don't care about Ylva at all, do you? You just care about Ivar being happy, never mind the consequences for everyone else. What happens if the child is like him? She could die, the way that Aslaug almost did. ”

“ Are you suggesting that this curse is inheritable now? Have a little faith in the gods, Helga.”

“I have seen more children born than you have; they have things in common with their parents. I was there; I heard her scream.”

“Why do you say such things?”

“Because it's true.”

“You don't know the gods like I do, Helga. You don't know what they have planned.”

“I know Ivar; is it ever not this way with him? He always gets put through the harshest trials.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 38: Don't say it

Summary:

Contains flashback to torture scene (near death from strangulation). Mention of abortion.

Sorry that the updates aren't coming as often now. I have a lot of school + work + a birthday celebration to prepare right now.

The rope tightens around my neck and I claw at it, trying to free myself. He is much stronger and nothing I do seem to make a difference. Tears blurry my vision and I sputter as I fruitlessly try to draw in air. My arms feel heavy and I can no longer lift them to the rope that's nestled tightly around my neck. Instead, they flail weakly into thin air and I can see that my fingertips are stained with the blood that's slowly trickling down my skin. He's still not loosening his grip and everything begins to fade. The room gradually disappears until all I can see is the slightly skewed leg of the bed. I'm dying, he's going to kill me. The realization is not as sweet as I thought it would be; it seems like it is difficult to turn from the survival instincts deeply ingrained in me. As the darkness deepens I grow tired of fighting and my hands fall to my sides. The relief that I had been expecting finally sweeps in, now that my body is too tired to keep on fighting and my mind begins to come to terms with what is about to happen. My eyelids slide shut and I let go.

 

Ylva stumbled through the corridors, her face swollen and red. She reached her destination and opened the door. It was dark inside the small bedroom but she could see his shape under the covers. He opened his eyes to look at her, as if he had been waiting for her. Ylva didn't need to say anything; the look on her face and her ragged breathing was clear enough. Ivar lifted the blankets and she made her way to the bed. She left her crutches on the floor and then curled up next to him. She tried scooting closer and hide her face against his chest but Ivar held her at arm's length distance. He frowned at the sight of her neck then turned to light a candle on the bedside table. Once the small flame lit up the room the scratch marks on her neck stood out clearly; streaks of red crossing the scar that Aelfric had left. Ylva closed her eyes, not wanting to see Ivar's worried look. She tried to stay still as he began to carefully trace the marks with his fingers but her chest was still rising and falling quickly. He came upon one on the side of her neck that she herself had thought felt particularly deep and she heard him inhale sharply.

“Is it bleeding?” She asked in a hoarse voice. He brushed over the mark again and then slowly retracted his hand before answering.

“No. But not far from.” Ivar wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against his chest. Ylva buried her head against his warm skin and fought off her desire to kiss him and beg him to touch her more intimately in order to distract her from the memories that flooded her mind. Giving in would only make the morning more difficult. He stroked her hair and pressed small kisses to the top of her head. In spite of everything that had happened between them last week Ylva found herself relaxing in his arms as he soothed her from the nightmare. Against her better judgement, she allowed herself to slide a palm back and forth over her husband's stomach. It was the most intimate touch she had given him since their fight and Ivar soon started responding to it by growing bolder with his kisses and letting one hand slide down her back. Ylva squeezed her eyes shut again and forced herself to retreat. She felt Ivar tense up and it was as if a knife was digging its way inside her heart. He stopped in his movements, his arms still clamped around her. Ylva could feel the shortness of breath returning as she waited for his reaction. The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, but eventually he let out a strange noise that she thought might be a held back sob and then returned to stroking her hair. Her breathing calmed again and the exhaustion, both physical and emotional, soon had her falling asleep. In the morning, she tried to free herself from his grip without waking him up so that she could return to the room that they had shared before. If he woke up he would say it again and it would make another chink in her wall of resolve. She carefully moved to the edge of the bed and reached for her crutches, thinking that she had succeeded. Then she felt him stir behind her. Don't say it, she begged silently.

”Drink it.” His voice was low, pleading. His fingers brushed through her hair. A shiver ran down her spine and she bit her tongue to stop herself from saying yes and crawling back into bed with him. She wanted to hate him for triggering such conflicting emotions. Ylva held on tighter to her crutches and she refused to look at him.

”No.” She pushed herself up from the bed and walked out of the room to find Blaeja.

 

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Blaeja listened attentively to every word out of Ylva's mouth.

”If I go there one more time I won't be able to say no when he asks.” She took Ylva's hand and nodded in agreement.

“Then I will share your bed tonight.” She wanted to scold Ylva for sneaking off to Ivar's bed but she was no better herself; she still shared a bed with Sigurd in spite of his moronic behaviour.

“Thank you.” Ylva whispered.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Ylva shook her head no.

“Come on then; you both need food.” She steered Ylva in the direction of the great hall, ignoring the blonde's feeble protests about how she'd rather stay in her room and have someone bring food there. She couldn't stay in there sulking and clutching her wedding ring to her chest. It was late and the hall was empty except for a few servants that had started clearing the table. Blaeja ordered them to wait and nudged at Ylva to make her sit down. She watched as Ylva struggled to swallow the food, making sure that she didn't just poke it around on the plate. For the first few days after the fight with Ivar, the scrawny girl had barely eaten at all but as soon as Blaeja had reminded her that she couldn't starve herself if she wanted the baby Ylva had been quick to force down whatever was served. The queen's face was soft as she looked at the broken girl but under the surface her blood boiled at the thought of how Ivar treated his wife and how her own husband had acted. It seemed that it didn't matter how much men declared their love and respect; they still did whatever they pleased.

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Blaeja jumped as a voice came out of nowhere.

”So you're the one warming her bed now.” Ivar came slithering out of the darkness. She straightened her back and looked down on him with disgust written plainly on her face.

”Someone has to take care of her.” She retorted. He bared his teeth at her but she refused to be afraid of this pitiful little man who found it easier to torture people than take care of his pregnant wife.

”I would take care of her if she'd just let me.” She scoffed at him and turned back towards the door; she had nothing else to say to him. Ivar spoke up again.

”Have you really thought this through? Do you want another one like me skulking about in the world, hmm?” She balled up her fists at her sides and made herself focus on the fact that Ylva was waiting for her.

“Good night, Ivar.” She slammed the door shut behind her and stepped swiftly towards the bed where Ylva was waiting with a cover pulled up to her chin and wide eyes.

Chapter 39: Let me go to him

Notes:

Contains mention of abortion.

Sorry that the updates aren’t coming as often now. I have a lot of school + work + a bunch of other writing projects going on.

Blaeja held Ylva's hair back as the blonde retched. Ylva continued clutching at the bucket until her stomach had calmed down. She sat up again and pushed the bucket further away so the smell wouldn't be as sharp in her nostrils.

”Are you feeling better?” Blaeja asked while smoothing her hair.

”A little. I think this baby has ruined fish for me.”

”It will be worth it.” Blaeja promised.

”How can you be so sure? You have no children of your own.” Ylva said, a bit harsher than intended. Blaeja recoiled but quickly composed herself again.

”I'm sorry.” Ylva murmured when she saw the way her friend reacted.

”No, it's all right. What you said is true. But I have seen many women at court, including my own mother, have their life brightened by their children. Often when their husband is either cruel or just not around having a little one gives them something to focus on. Someone to look after, someone who loves them back. It is a pleasant feeling; having someone who loves you unconditionally.” She said softly while brushing away some of the strands that stuck to Ylva's sweaty forehead.

”Yes.” Ylva whispered, remembering the way her father would muss her hair and tell her that she was dyrbar. She accepted a cup of water from Blaeja's outreached hand and used it to rinse her mouth.

“Do you want Sigurd's children?” She asked in a low voice. Blaeja was quiet for so long that Ylva almost thought she was simply ignoring the question.

“I don't know. Not while it's like this.” The dark-haired woman took a cloth from the bowl on the bedside table and wrung out the water before bringing it to Ylva's face. Her voice trembled when she spoke again.

“Besides, I can't have his children right now.” Ylva tried to make eye-contact with Blaeja, but the young queen had suddenly become very interested in the cloth.

“One of the servants, an older woman who's been here since before I was born, I went to her a couple of weeks ago and asked her to help me. I come up with excuses to go to the kitchen and she gives me a brew.” Ylva tried to think of the right words. She wanted to say that she understood how scared Blaeja must be that her Christian people would find out and condemn her, that Sigurd would find out and demand that she stop; but her head was sluggish from the nausea and she just hummed instead.

“Why didn't you...?” Blaeja's voice trailed off but Ylva understood what she was asking. She took a deep breath, hoping that it would clear her mind, and grimaced at the smell rising from the bucket. Blaeja must have seen her discomfort because she began guiding her to the bed so that she could lie down. Ylva murmured a thank you as she settled down on the furs.

“Ivar didn't–he didn't think he could. His condition, it makes it difficult for him. Or rather made, it got easier over time. And I, well, I didn't really expect for this to happen either. We were busy patching each other up.” She closed her eyes, reliving all the times that he had snarled at others to get out of the way to make sure that she got the first pick of meat, the day that he gave her the dress that she couldn't quite fit into any longer, how he had washed her hair after they killed Ælfric. He had allowed her to return the favour too; shown her his legs and told her about the pain so that she could help him. He had cried and thanked her the first time she told him that she loved him. Thinking back, she thought she could discern the exact moment that she had realized that she wanted to stay by his side even after her tormentors were dead. It was after they had killed Ælfric, when they helped each other wash the blood away. It was the first time she saw his legs. The hesitance in his movements as he undressed with her in the tent had told her that she needed to be strong for him, like he had been strong for her. Ylva grasped at the furs in an attempt to keep her heart from cracking open.

“I think there was some small part of my mind that didn't care if I would get pregnant. I told myself that it would be an honour to have his child and that he would be so happy, that having a little one would brighten his life. Once I was sure of it, I wasn't even afraid of telling him. I just thought I should wait until after the feast because he was so busy thinking of the raids. I wanted to make his triumph even greater; first the warriors would choose him as their leader and then my belly would grow round with his child, showing everyone that he's a man. I was a stupid little girl.” Ylva could hear how bitter she sounded but she didn't care; she had every right to be bitter. The young queen squeezed her hand gently before answering.

“He can still change his mind.” Ylva could tell that they were just hollow words, that Blaeja didn't really believe them even as they left her mouth.

“Maybe.” A soft knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Wassa walked inside. The girl came to a halt right in the middle of the room. She fiddled nervously with her apron.

“What is it, child?” Ylva asked softly. Wassa stopped her nervous movements and laced her fingers together instead. She looked on the floor as she spoke.

”They're leaving.” Ylva's brave face, the one that she had created especially for Wassa, fell.

“Now?” She whispered.

“Tomorrow. He is impatient, he wanted to go right away but the army isn't ready.” Ylva could feel herself shrink at those words; he couldn't wait to get away from her and what they had created together. Blaeja hurried to speak, drowning out Ylva's stifled sobs.

“Wassa, could you please go empty and clean the bucket?” The girl shot Ylva a troubled glare but she nodded in agreement with Blaeja's request and hurried to leave the room with the bucket. The blonde woman laid her head back down on the pillow. The young queen was just about to ask if there was anything she could do when Ylva raised her voice.

“Let me go to him tonight.” Blaeja hesitated.

“I don't think that is a good idea.” Ylva scrunched her face up, bottom lip quivering. Blaeja had to lean in to hear what she said next.

“Just one last time before he leaves. He is my husband.”

 

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Ylva pushed the door open. Ivar was still awake, sitting at the small table. There was a map in front of him but right now he only had eyes for her. She could feel him stare as she walked right past him and climbed into his bed. She found the hem of her nightgown and began pulling it upwards. At first, it seemed as if he couldn't look away. Then her stomach was exposed and he turned his head to the side. It was gut-wrenching but she forced the wounded noise back down and kept going. Her nightgown landed on the floor. She saw him slide down from his chair and begin to move closer, all the while careful not to look up at her. Ivar sat down next to the bed and she tried to pull at his tunic. He stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

“What are you doing, my sweet wife?” He whispered. Ylva loosened herself from his grip and, without warning, threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close, latching on to his mouth. It had been too long and the nights had been to difficult. Blaeja didn't hold the same power as Ivar did; she couldn't stop the nightmares from appearing, only wake her up and comfort her. He whimpered into her mouth before eagerly responding, nearly pulling her down onto his lap. She slipped out of his grip and crawled further in on the bed. Ivar followed her closely, pressing his body close to hers. He cupped her face and kissed her brow.

“Drink it. It's not too late. It will be more painful but it's not too late.” She ignored him in favour of beginning to tug at his tunic. It fell to the floor and her hands immediately made their way to his pants instead.

“We could wait a few more days before leaving, give you time to recover.” He made her turn on her stomach. He doesn't want to see the way my belly is growing round. She already knew it but seeing him do these things was enough to make her resolve break again. Meanwhile, Ivar kept on blabbering.

“We could have each other every night, just...more carefully.” A sob escaped her mouth, making him stop in his tracks.

“Ylva?”

“You can't even look at me.”

“I am looking at you.” He said, feigning ignorance.

“Don't act stupid, you know what I mean.” She snarled. Ylva turned again, facing him as he held himself up over her. Before he could protest she took his hand and placed it on the small bump.

“Here.” She whispered. She let go of his hand, hoping that he wouldn't retract it right away. And he didn't. Ylva held breath while Ivar let his palm rest against her belly. Then he twisted as if in pain and the moment was over. He moved away from her and reached for something on the floor. Ivar handed her the nightgown.

“I have to look at the map. Will you stay here tonight?” Ylva nodded, too ashamed of her actions to admit them out loud. Ivar lifted her hand to his face and placed a kiss on her knuckles; but all Ylva could think of was what a stupid, weak-willed girl she was.

Notes:

Dyrbar - Precious

Chapter 40: For my child

Summary:

Hi! I recently posted a one-shot called Vargen och Krigaren in the Ivar-series. It’s about Ivar and Ylva and is based on a combination of a prompt I got by kristabec on tumblr and an alternate idea I had for Ylva’s revenge. Go check it out :)

”Blaeja?” She tried to ignore him and his pleading voice, setting her features into a scowl and staring out the window at the trio of women gathering flowers. Sigurd was not deterred by this and soon his hands landed at her waist. The young queen sighed.

“What is it, husband?” She already knew what he wanted; he would ask her if she'd come to their shared bed tonight.

“We haven't spent a whole night together for almost three weeks.”

“I have other matters to attend to besides spreading my legs for you.” She snapped at him. He jumped in surprise and then she felt his posture change as he began to slouch. Blaeja did regret her harsh words but only a little; Sigurd had never forced himself on her, he was always gentle and sweet. Though that didn't change how he had treated Ylva. Sigurd began to say something but Blaeja stepped away from his grip and walked down the stairs. Once she was at the bottom floor she exited through the open double doors to meet the returning women. The port in the outer wall opened and Ylva came walking back towards the villa accompanied by Tanaruz and Helga, who was carrying a basket filled with flowers and plants.

“Did you find anything useful?” The young queen asked. Helga nodded eagerly and began pointing at the different plants, explaining what they could be used for. Blaeja didn't pay much attention to Helga's words; she was busy studying Ylva's face. The girl had gotten some colour on her cheeks, her eyes were only a little red and the skin around them seemed less puffy. At least it was only because of her worried sleep; she hadn't cried since the day Ivar left. Helga cleared her throat and Blaeja shifted her attention to the older woman.

“This flower, it's not really medicinal. But it's beautiful.” Helga glanced at the pregnant girl while slowly spinning the stem between her thumb and pointer finger.

“I thought we might decorate your room with them, Ylva. Brighten it a bit.” Ylva didn't respond, only shifted on her crutches. Blaeja placed a hand over her friend's fingers and stroked them carefully.

“Wasn't it nice going outside for a bit?” Ylva shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her feet; she had barely spoken either in the past week. The girl mostly whispered to herself whenever she was about to do something, whether it was eating or getting out of bed. Blaeja had overheard her once; she was saying something that sounded like Fömit baarn. Later that night, when the pregnant girl had cleaned up and been tucked into bed, Blaeja asked Helga what it meant. At first, Helga had looked confused when the young queen tried to repeat what she'd heard. Then the woman's face softened.

“She's saying För mitt barn; For my child.”

 

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It hadn't been a big first raid but it had been fruitful; the rather large farm had several horses in the stable that would help them move quicker and scout larger areas. Ivar zeroed in on two large men near the end of the table. They each had a young woman on their lap, laughing as they pawed at the sobbing girls. Ivar downed the last of his ale and slammed the cup on the table.

“Let go of them.” He said, his voice still strong in spite of the drinking. The gathered warriors went silent. Ivar could feel Floki eyeing him curiously but he kept his gaze at the larger of the men; Stein or something like that. The other one finally spoke up.

“You cannot mean that we are to set them free!” Ivar bared his teeth in a predatory grin.

“No; I am saying that I want them.” Floki's neck gave up a sickening cracking noise as he turned to look at Ivar. A murmur went through the crowd of warriors. Ivar could tell that Stein was about to protest so he raised his voice again.

“I am your leader and I claim both of them. Take them to my tent, untouched, or you will be known as dickless.” There was a stunned silence; then the camp broke into loud cheers and clamour as cups were thumped against the table. If Ivar had been less drunk he probably would've enjoyed the encouragement and support; it was something he had longed for sever since he was old enough to understand it. However, his mind was too foggy and he could only think of the girls. Especially the little blonde one.

 

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Floki walked beside Ivar as they headed for their tents.

“You will regret this, Ivar. Ylva is not nearly as forgiving as my sweet Helga.” Ivar was tempted to snarl that Ylva likely wouldn't survive long enough to learn about any possible indiscretion on his part. Instead, he lowered his head and sped up a little.

“You fought well today, Floki. Go rest now.” Ivar left the boatbuilder behind as he crawled inside his tent and he was immediately greeted by the girls staring at him. They were sitting on the ground with their hands tied together and their eyes full of terror. He could see how their chests began to heave in panic as he crept closer. The blonde one tried to push her sister behind her; the sight of it made Ivar stop for a moment and he dug his nails into the ground. Once he had gathered himself he began to move again and the younger sister whimpered. It stung a little but Ivar forced the thought away, it wasn't the younger one he was after anyway. The older one thrust her chin up in an attempt to look defiant as he reached a hand out to touch her; but the second his fingertips connected with her skin she broke down and began to cry. Ivar's hand fell back to his side as she continued to wail and soon the younger one joined in too. He felt sick to his stomach and not just because of the drinking. He had been too slow to save their mother and the youngest sister; they had already been violated and slaughtered by the time Ivar crawled into the barn where they had tried to hide. At first he had thought that it didn't matter; it was the Viking way. The winners took whatever they wanted and he wanted a woman to squirm underneath him as he thrust inside her.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” He mumbled in Saxon. He should've known that it was only Ylva he wanted, not this scared farmer girl. Even if he'd wanted this woman Ylva had nestled her way inside his mind with what she had said about being taken from her family's farm and used against her will. If the blonde had reminded him about his wife before, it was nothing compared to now; when Ivar studied the girl in front of him he could only think of how Ylva screamed at night as the memories came crashing in. He blinked away the tears and shook his head furiously to clear his head of the images. Ivar finally spoke again.

“I'm not going to touch you.” The girls stared at him in disbelief but they did settle down a bit. He crawled towards his bed and pulled one of the furs down, throwing it at them. He turned his back to them again and began to unlace his boots. The blonde's hoarse voice cut through the heavy air.

“Why?” Ivar sighed but didn't look up; his fingers fumbled with the strings.

“I love my wife.”

 

 

Chapter 41: Out of the woods

Notes:

In this chapter: Mercy killing, mention of death wish, aftermath of rape, choking BUT ALSO a little bit of happiness at the end. It’s not all horribleness, you guys. Just the majority of it.

Ivar pulled at the reins and made his horse come to a halt right outside the stable where there was some sort of commotion going on, in spite of the fact that the attack was long over and the villa was now in the hands of his warriors. Ivar leaned over the edge of his chariot.

“What is it now, Stein?” The man stopped his incessant screaming and turned to face Ivar.

”A girl took off with one of the horses!” Stein pointed toward the tree line. The group of warriors surrounding him looked ready to chase the girl.

”And you want to waste time chasing after some servant girl?” Ivar asked. Stein opened his mouth to speak but Ivar raised his hand to silence him.

”What do you want more; a girl to enjoy for a few minutes or treasure and glory to last a life time, hmm? Because if you leave, there will be no gold or precious stones left for you when you are done fucking her.” Stein scrunched his face together as if using all of his mind to think about Ivar's statement. Eventually, he grunted and began to move back towards the villa only to be stopped again when Ivar flicked his fingers at the stable.

“Are any of the horses still in there?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep an eye on this one.” Ivar threw the reins to one of the men next to Stein before they could protest. He slid out of his chariot and crawled towards the stable doors. As he pushed them open he was hit by the smell of death. The horses were anxiously moving back and forth, trying to escape but failing. The first girl was right next to the door, lying face down with her dress bunched up around her waist. Ivar crawled further in, seeing another two bodies in a pile of hay; clothes torn and bloodied. Their eyes were turned up to the ceiling, staring but not seeing.; he was too late. A noise from one of the empty pens had him reaching for his sword.

“Who's there?” He barked in the general direction of the noise. A short silence followed and then a sob. Ivar slowly crept closer to it, his heart hammering more and more violently the closer he got. Sick slowly rose in his throat as he looked around the corner and saw a fourth girl there; he had prided himself on never shying away from the blood and gore of battle but this was an entirely different kind of violence. Her dress was torn in two and blood came pouring out of a hole in her abdomen. Her arms were covered in scratches that she must've gotten when trying to defend herself. Ivar found himself remembering one of Ylva's worst nights, the one where he had come into their tent to see streaks of blood on her arms where she had clawed in her sleep. Once he had settled next to her under the furs she pressed herself closely to his chest, almost as if she thought she could break through the skin and hide in there; then she whispered a plea for Ivar to drive his knife through her heart. Much like this girl was doing now.

“Please.” She rasped while reaching for his sword. Ivar hesitated, though he couldn't understand why; he needed only to look at the gaping wound in her abdomen to know that she wouldn't survive anyway. Finally, he met her gaze and nodded. She tried to speak again but all that came out of her was a cough. Ivar lifted his sword and, not allowing himself another second of hesitation, drove it through the girl's heart.

 

Godiva and Wilburg waited for him in the room that he had claimed and without so much as a nod to them he threw his bloodied armour at their feet. Wilburg sprung to her feet and disappeared out of the room to clean it for him, flashing Ivar a shy smile as she rushed past him. Godiva began to prepare wash cloths for Ivar to clean his face and hands with.

”How many today?” She asked him, as she always did after a raid.

”Most of them must've have left when they heard we were coming. There were three that were already dead when I found them, one that I put out of her misery and a fifth that managed to escape.” There was a splash as she dropped one of the cloths in the bowl of water. The blonde's shrill voice cut through the air.

“You killed one of them?”

“She wouldn't have survived.” He snarled back at her. Godiva pressed her lips together and returned to her task.

 

Ivar clutched at the bedlinen and ground his teeth together to keep the groans of pain trapped inside. The coldness of the sudden fall had seeped into his bones during the day and he had sent both of the girls away to get him more furs so that they wouldn't be there to see the way he struggled with getting into bed. One of them stirred at the other side of the room.

“Prince?” Ivar tried to ignore Godiva's voice, hoping that she'd leave him alone and go back to sleep. The room lit up and Ivar saw her holding a candlestick.

“Are you ill?” She sounded worried but Ivar didn't bother with trying to convince himself that it was because she cared for him; the girl knew that Ivar was the only reason they hadn't been raped and beaten yet.

“Go back to bed.” He snarled. She hesitated for a second, then started creeping closer to the bed.

“Is it your legs?” When he didn't answer she shifted her grip on the candlestick so that she held in in her off-hand. Ivar saw her reach a hand out towards the furs covering his lower body. Panic rushed through his veins, effectively drowning out any voice of reason. He shot up straight in bed in spite of his protesting limbs, threw his hand out and locked it around her throat, squeezing it tightly enough to completely cut of her air supply. The candlestick fell to the floor and they were left in darkness again. Ivar kept his grip around the girl's throat even as she did her best to fight him off. It felt better than he'd thought, maybe because this time he didn't picture Ylva; he saw Margrethe. Godiva was just another girl who just came to him because she didn't have much of a choice, another girl who would look at him with disgust and fear. He couldn't take that, especially not now that Ylva wasn't by his side to reassure him and ease the pain in his legs. The commotion woke Wilburg, who screamed as she saw what was happening. She begged for him to stop and Ivar finally snapped out of his trance like state. He released the blonde girl who dropped to her knees and sputtered as she struggled to breathe normally again. Wilburg threw her arms around her older sister and pressed her close to her chest. The younger girl looked at Ivar with a strange spark in her eyes while she continued to pet her crying sister's hair. Ivar's voice came out as a low growl when he spoke up.

“Don't ever touch me.” With that, he laid back down and pulled the covers all the way up to his chin. He closed his eyes and tried to filter out the distressed noises coming from the floor.

 

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Ylva stroked her stomach; a content smile on her lips as she felt the little one move under her palm.

“Can you feel it?” She asked Blaeja. The young queen nodded and stroked her free hand through Ylva's hair.

“What a fierce little one you have there; trying to kick its way out already.” Ylva laughed a little then and some of the weight was lifted from Blaeja's shoulders. Still, she had concerns. Helga entered the great hall and Blaeja hurried to meet her at a safe distance from Ylva.

“When Ivar's mother was pregnant with him; did he move like a normal child?” She asked in a whisper. Helga looked hesitant.

“He did move but Aslaug said it felt strange, different from all of his brothers. I didn't think too much about it because truly all of her children acted very differently while still in the womb. I just assumed that Ivar was even more special than his siblings. She said that it hurt more too.” Worry rose in Blaeja's throat.

“Ylva is in pain too, you saw what yesterday was like.” The young queen whispered. The older woman hurried to reassure her.

“That doesn't have to mean anything; I have never seen a pain-free pregnancy. Ylva doesn't have anything to compare with so it is difficult to say.” Blaeja knew this was true but she still worried for her friend. She glanced over at the girl that was now using one hand to shovel stew into her mouth but was quickly pulled back by Helga's soft voice.

“We could always just tell her that Ivar never kicked in the womb. It would give her some piece of mind; thinking that she's out of the woods now.” The progress had been slow but Ylva was doing better. She still had bad days but she no longer had to be coaxed into bathing and sleep came a little easier. A few days ago she had started speaking in full sentences again, rather than occasionally murmuring a few words that could barely be interpreted.

“Yes, I think she needs that.” Blaeja said. Helga nodded in agreement then and squeezed Blaeja's shoulder reassuringly before making her way to the chair where Ylva was sitting, still stroking her belly with one hand and a wide smile decorating her freckled face. Someone approached from behind and when Blaeja turned she saw Sigurd coming towards her. To his surprise, she reached her hand out for him to take and when he stopped in front of her she stepped closer and laid her head to rest on his shoulder.

“Helga will stay with Ylva this night too.” Sigurd didn't answer, only wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tighter against his side. They quietly observed they way Helga felt at Ylva's stomach while speaking in a cheerful tone. Sigurd turned his head slightly and murmured so that they wouldn't be overheard.

”Ivar sent a rider with a message. They have taken over a villa that belonged to some noble; they plan to stay there until winter is over.” Blaeja knew that this was actually bad news for them; if they came under attack it would be difficult for Ivar's forces to reach them in time. Still, she was glad that Ivar wouldn't return and undo all of the progress that Ylva had made in his absence.

“Good.” She answered “He should stay away.”

 

 

 

Chapter 42: I could join you

Summary:

A real chapter this time.

Notes:

In this chapter: Public display of affection, implied alcoholism (kind of), implied/referenced slutshaming

“Stop it.” Blaeja whispered, not quite able to hide her smile even as she chided her husband. Sigurd continued peppering the side of her face with kisses.

“Why?” He breathed into her ear. Placing a hand on his chest, she pushed him away and nodded in the direction of Ylva and Ubbe that sat further down the table.

“Because Ylva is here, as is your brother. It's rude.” Sigurd rolled his eyes.

“Ivar never cared about touching her in front of everyone.” He pushed Blaeja's hand away from his chest and moved in closer again. Blaeja sighed in a mix of frustration and pleasure.

“Ivar isn't here anymore, remember? And Ubbe hasn't seen his wife for months. That's why it's rude.” Sigurd muttered something that she couldn't hear while continuing to shower her with kisses and her attempts at getting him to stop was half-hearted at best.

“I can't wait to see your belly grow round, wife. How long until that happens?” Blaeja's heart quickened at his words. Her husband's hand wandered to her stomach.

“A little boy or girl, it doesn't matter.“ She fought to keep the smile on her face as she patted his leg.

“It doesn't happen right away for everyone, you have to be patient.” The young queen said in the steadiest voice she could muster up. Hoping that it would end the conversation, she turned away from Sigurd and noticed that Ylva was attempting to get out of her chair.

“Do you need help, dear?” Ylva nodded in response and Blaeja rose from her chair before Ubbe could offer his help, leaving a disappointed Sigurd behind. She quickly stepped around the table and reached for the pregnant girl's hands, gently enveloping them in her own.

“How are you feeling today?” It had been impossible not to notice that the pain in Ylva's knees was worse now and sometimes accompanied by an aching back. The blonde shook her head.

“Not good. Helga and Tanaruz had to help me out of bed this morning.” Blaeja's heart softened a little at the mention of Helga's adoptive daughter; the girl had opened up so much lately.

“Let's get some rest then. I will help you with the salve.” The young queen helped her friend stand up and then walked next to her, one hand resting reassuringly on the blonde's back as they made their way towards Ylva's room. Entering the room, they found Wassa and Tanaruz in the process of cleaning it. Tanaruz spoke very slowly in a mix of broken Saxon and Old Norse while Wassa listened carefully and tried her best to decipher and answer. The girls flashed big smiles and bowed their heads down. Ylva sank down on the bed, shifting back and forth to find a comfortable position. Blaeja turned to the younger girls and spoke to them in a soft voice.

“Have you changed the bedlinen as well?”

“Yes, my queen.” Wassa answered. A groan of discomfort made the trio of women turn to look at Ylva where she was resting on the bed.

“Kicking.” She explained when she noticed their worried looks. Tanaruz took a few tentative steps forward, making eye contact with the pregnant girl.

“Can I?” Blaeja knew that Tanaruz had always managed to miss whenever the baby kicked and so she felt her heart swell when Ylva nodded, allowing Tanaruz to place her palms against the bump. The girl's eyes widened and she laughed a little.

“Strong.” She said “Like you.” Ylva beamed at the darkhaired girl. Blaeja cleared her throat, feeling a little guilty for ruining the moment.

“Ylva needs to rest now. You girls can go help Helga.” The young queen then turned to the pregnant woman.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes.” Blaeja nodded in agreement before speaking to the younger girls again.

“Come get us when it's time to eat again. If anyone wishes to speak with me, redirect them to my husband.” The girls scurried out of the room to find Helga and Blaeja sat down next to Ylva, rubbing the salve onto her aching knees.

 

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Wilburg closed the door behind her as she went to fetch Ivar something to drink. He stared at the door, brow furrowed. Finally, he turned to look at Godiva where she sat at the table working at mending a tunic and spoke up.

”Why does she look at me like that?” He saw they way the blonde's lips tightened into a thin line before she answered.

”My sister is not a good Christian.” Ivar narrowed his eyes at the older girl.

”What is that supposed to mean?” As far as he knew there were many ways of being a bad Christian so Godiva’s statement was of very little help. The girl only pressed her lips tighter together, ignoring his question. Ivar was just about to snarl at her that he demanded to know when the door opened and Wilburg returned with a jug of water and a cup. She filled the cup for Ivar and he took it from her, downing its content in a few deep gulps. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let his gaze flick between the two girls.

“One of you have to help with serving tonight.” He had barely finished the sentence before Godiva shot up from the chair.

“I will do it.” Ivar couldn’t say he was surprised; she always volunteered for anything that required staying around the warriors for a longer amount of time. It allowed her sister to stay hidden in Ivar’s room where she was out of reach for drunkenly groping hands.

Ivar raised an eyebrow at the younger sister.

“Wilburg, can you sew?” The girl nodded eagerly.

“Yes, prince Ivar.”

“Then you finish with my clothes.”

 

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Ivar tried to blink away the fog as he crawled through the corridors with Godiva silently trailing behind him. She cleared her throat, making Ivar stumble as he looked at her over his shoulder.

“Thank you for stopping Aghi.” Ivar didn't answer, just hummed and continued creeping forward. As he spotted the door to his room he froze in his tracks, remembering something. His fist slammed against the floor.

“Shit!” He didn't miss the way Godiva flinched at his sudden outburst, the memory of his hand bruising her throat having made her even more cautious around him.

“What is it, my prince?” She squeaked.

“I forgot to speak with Floki about tomorrow.” Godiva stayed silent while Ivar muttered to himself about having to go search for the boatbuilder.

“I-I could go find him for you, if you wish. Give him a message.” She said after a long moment of hesitation. Ivar turned so that he was sitting on the floor and glaring up at her. Finally, he nodded.

“Do that. He'll either be back in his room or just outside the wall, talking to his wife.” Ivar saw the question that Godiva was about to ask and cut her off before she could get it out.

“Yes, I know that his wife is in Northumbria. Leave now, before Aghi decides that he wants to have another go at you.” The girl scurried away and just as she disappeared behind the corner Ivar slammed his fist into the floor again, remembering that he hadn't told her what to say. It made no matter, she could come up with a message; she knew what it was about.

He saw Wilburg break into a smile as soon as he opened the door but it quickly disappeared again.

“Where is my sister?” She asked quietly

“Don't fret.” Ivar grunted “She's just delivering a message.”

“Oh.” There was that strange spark in her eyes again. Ivar turned his head away from her and dragged his way through the room.

“Are you going to bed, my prince?”

“Yes.” He sighed, not understanding why she was so curious. The girl had many skills and would make a good servant if she could learn to keep her mouth shut. Ivar continued moving towards his bed, expecting her to either sit quietly and wait for her sister or curl up under the pile of furs that the girls shared. As he pulled himself up on the bed he heard footsteps behind him but he decided to ignore the girl in the hope that it would discourage her from asking more questions. Sitting with his back against the headboard he began to remove his leg binders, then moving on to his hand bracers. All the while he could feel the girl staring at him and he grit his teeth to stop the outburst that was bubbling up inside him. Once he had freed himself of the bindings he motioned to lift the covers. Wilburg's timid voice sounded through the room.

“I could join you.” Ivar blinked, not sure that he'd heard right. The girl took another step forward

“What you did to my sister, I don't mind it. I like it.” She must've spotted his confusion because she blushed a little, as if saying it out loud was embarrassing.

“You know.” She said shyly while slowly lifting her own hand to her throat and pressing down on it. Ivar could feel his own breath catch, as if it was him being denied air. He almost didn't recognize his own voice when he spoke; it sounded too weak and frightened.

“You think I liked doing that to your sister?” Wilburg let her hand fall to the side again and shrugged her shoulders.

“You haven't seen your wife for a long time. Men have needs, as do I but my sister keeps getting in the way.” The girl moved closer “She thinks I'm a whore.” Ivar stared in disbelief as she sat down on his bed. When he finally came to his senses he set his face into a scowl and snarled at her.

“You didn't seem to enjoy Stein pawing at you.” He thought he could see a flash of steel in her eyes but other than that the girl was not at all deterred by his harsh tone.

“Stein is a drunken buffoon and I had just seen him slaughter my family. You're a prince.” She gazed at him dreamingly. Ivar squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will the drunkenness away. He spoke to Wilburg, eyes still closed.

“Listen, girl, you need to get off my bed before your sister comes back; I don't need her thinking that I've fucked you.” He was so tired; tired of not having his wife next to him, of drinking so that he would feel a bit warmer and so that sleep would come easier. Wilburg whispered in that timid voice again. How could she speak of such things and still sound timid? It made no sense to Ivar.

“Don't you want me?” Ivar's eyes flew open. He shot his hand out, grabbed her wrist and growled at her.

“How many times must I tell you; I have a wife! Why would I bed some Saxon whore?!” Wilburg stared at him with those ridiculous big eyes of hers. His words finally seemed to sink in. She tore herself free and rushed across the room to hide under the furs. Ivar heard her sob but ignored it, just like he had done when Godiva was weeping on the floor. When the older sister returned Ivar pretended to sleep. A few seconds later, he heard her questioning Wilburg about what had happened.

The sound of Godiva scolding her little sister felt strangely satisfying.

Notes:

Updated schedule

June 30th - July 3rd
- Request: Ragnarssons hear you moaning a name in your sleep
- Efterfest part 3
- Keeping promises 43

July 7th - July 9th
- Request: Ivar x reader forced marriage
- Request: Ivar x reader shieldmaiden (Halfdan’s daughter)
- Keeping Promises 44

July 13th - July 14th
- Request: Ivar x reader slave

Chapter 43: Hello, wife

Notes:

In this chapter: Implied alcoholism, implied adultery, (overheard) attempted sexual assault

The attack had come out of nowhere. The nobles had held their end of the deal, but only for as long as winter lasted. Just before the first clear signs of spring, a small force of Saxon soldiers tried to take the villa back. Fortunately, pushing the attackers back hadn’t been that difficult for the Vikings. The few house guards that were left from when Ælle still ruled had been reluctant to fight against their countrymen, but Blaeja and Sigurd had made it clear that they would not tolerate turncoats and so the house guards had joined the fight. Even though the attackers never breached the wall the king and queen had, with some encouragement from Ubbe, decided to send for the forces that were raiding in the south. Spring came closer every day and even though they tried not to speak of it in front of her, Ylva knew that they feared another attack was coming now that the conditions were better; especially since they didn’t know just how many nobles were involved in the plot. A little more than two weeks after the messenger had set out from Northumbria the bells rang, announcing the return of Ylva's husband. Ubbe jumped to his feet and strode out of the throne room. She itched to get up from her seat and follow him as he went to meet her husband. She wanted to see if Ivar looked the same, behaved the same. Ylva felt a pair of eyes on her. She didn't need to look to know that it was Blaeja watching her.

”He's here.” The blonde girl said, as if the queen hadn’t heard the bells.

”Don't let him break you again.” Her friend cautioned.

”I won't.” Ylva answered, hoping that she was telling the truth.

 

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Ylva stopped to rest her aching knees, leaning back against the wall just a few steps away from the entrance to the great hall. If she was to be honest with herself, it wasn’t just her knees that made her stop; she was stalling having to meet Ivar. When he arrived earlier that day, she’d been determined to wait for him in the throne room. But at the last minute, she shuffled to her feet and begged for someone to help her get out of there. Now, she was about to make another attempt at facing him as Blaeja had asked her to come eat dinner with them in the throne room. Ylva needed another minute and so she stood there, catching her breath and reminding herself not to cower under Ivar’s gaze. One of the doors to the great hall was open and she could hear the warriors laugh and sing together as those who had remained at the villa and those that had gone raiding met each other for the first time in months. A slurred voice came from behind the doors.

“What’s this now?” Chuckled a man.

“Those, Búi, are two Saxon whores.” Replied another voice. A shiver ran down Ylva’s spine.

“Saxon whores? I thought they were all prude little Christians!” Ylva closed her eyes; she was so tired.

“Not these ones; they’ve been broken in.” Her breathing started to feel strained again, in spite of her best efforts to calm herself.

“Good, I prefer when they’ve already learned to behave.” A scream was heard, followed by the sound of a girl begging in Saxon. Her eyes flew open and Ylva slowly stepped towards the entrance. She knew she didn’t look very menacing; short, walking with crutches and belly so swollen she felt ready to burst at any second. Still, she was their prince’s wife and that did earn her some degree of respect from most of the men. Ylva saw a brunette girl squirming to get away from a man that she assumed was Búi and another girl that was being held back as she cried for him to let go of her sister. Fighting against her urge to lean against the doorway for support, Ylva opened her mouth to snarl at the men. Before she could get a word out Floki came creeping out of a corner. He wiggled a finger at the men, a wide smile plastered on his face, but Ylva heard the sharpness in his voice when he spoke.

“Careful with where you let your hands wander; those are Ivar's.” She froze. He didn’t seem to notice Ylva standing in the doorway and she made no move to reveal herself, only listened as Floki continued to tell everyone about how her husband had claimed these two girls.

 

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Hearing footsteps behind her, she looked over her shoulder to see Floki and those stupid little whores catching up with her.  

“Sweet Ylva! “ Floki called out “Do you need help?” He moved quickly on his long legs.

“No.” She snapped. The boatbuilder stopped in his tracks, giggling briefly as if he thought she was joking only to fall silent again as he realized that she wasn’t. Ylva kept on walking, grinding her teeth together to keep from screaming out loud.

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Ubbe reached for another piece of meat, then cleared his throat as soon as it was secure on his plate.

“I saw the wagons being emptied.” He said while cutting into the meat and glancing at Ivar from the corner of his eye.

“Oh?” Ivar said, lifting his cup and making a poor attempt at sounding indifferent.

“It seems as if you and your men have done well for yourselves in these months, brother.”

“Are you beginning to wish you had come with us, Ubbe?” Ivar asked, a smirk clear on his face. His older brother grinned at that.

“Perhaps.” Ivar emptied his cup again, revelling in the warmth that started to spread throughout his body. Seeing Ylva again was both far better and far worse than he had thought. She was alive, the little beast hadn’t killed her from the inside yet. Maybe she would even survive giving birth to it. But the way she didn’t look at him, as if he was dead; that was unbearable. Ivar forced his hands to be steady as he reached for the nearest jug of mead.

“Maybe next time, brother. We have found many riches and I am sure we can find many more together.” Ylva muttered something under her breath and Ivar immediately turned his attention to her, hoping she was talking to him. She ignored his faint smile, turning instead to the girl sitting to her left.

“Tanaruz, do you mind helping me back to my room? I wish to lie down.” The girl sprung to her feet and Wassa, who had just set another plate of chicken on the table, looked to Blaeja for permission to go with Ylva as well.

 

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Ivar crawled through the corridor. Ylva had left the table so suddenly, never even looking at him as he tried to catch her attention. Blaeja had tried to keep him from following his wife but Ubbe stopped the queen from interfering. Ivar assumed that she still slept in the room that they had shared before; his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the younger girls exit the room. Ivar could’ve just slithered right past them; as much as they would disapprove of him going to Ylva, they didn’t have the guts to stop him. However, he didn’t want them running to the king and queen and scream for their help in keeping the monster prince away from their precious Ylva. He didn’t knock on the door before opening. She was on her back, resting on top of the fur covered bed.

“Hello, wife.” He said softly. Ylva stared at the roof.

“Was she good?” Ivar tilted his head to the side but made sure that his gaze remained on her face rather than her swollen midsection.

“Who?” He asked, his foggy mind too occupied with thoughts about how long her hair had grown to understand what she was talking about.

“Wilburg. That's her name, right?” Ivar’s eyelids fell shut and he let out a groan. He didn’t know what to say but Ylva didn’t seem to care.

“Or is it the older one that's shared your bed this winter?” She continued. He chuckled, too deep in his cups to take her seriously yet.

“Ylva-” He began, only to be interrupted.

“Maybe you had them both. You do get awfully cold; it must have been nice having two women at once to warm you.” Ivar tried to pull himself together and focus on her words.

“Do you take me for an idiot, wife?” The words came out louder than intended and even in this state Ivar didn’t miss the way she twitched and then placed her arms around her belly. It upset him that she acted as if she was afraid for him.

“Yes.” She answered.

“That might be true, but I am not so stupid that I'd go with another woman.” She scoffed, still looking at the ceiling.

“Listen, wife.” Ivar said, crawling to the side of the bed.

“Stop calling me that.” She growled. He ignored her and took her hand, turning it so that the small palm was upwards. He pressed a kiss to her clammy skin.

“Wilburg, she did offer herself to me. I rejected her.” He saw the way Ylva furrowed her brow.

“As for her sister, the only time I touched her was to reprimand her when she tried touching my legs.” Ylva yanked her hand out of his grip.

“You hit her?!”

“I reprimanded her.” Ivar repeated as he reached for her hand again. She scoffed, turning her head to the side so that she was looking at the wall. Ivar silently watched as she worried at her bottom lip. How he missed those lips. He wondered if she would reject him if he asked to spend the night there. Ivar pressed another kiss to her knuckles, wanting to make her soften so that she’d let him stay. Of course, Ylva had to speak up before him and ruin the moment.

“You're still not looking at me.” She pointed out. Ivar sighed; he had hoped that they could have at least a night of peace together. He gestured at her stomach.

“How long?”

“Soon. Less than a month according to Helga.”

“Good.” He murmured, briefly letting his eyes sweep over her stomach.

“Will you be there?” She asked and Ivar lifted his gaze to her face again. His wife was finally looking at him. Ivar shifted on the floor and pulled himself further up so that his face was right above hers

“My little wolf.” He murmured, leaning down until their noses touched each other. Her hand was in his hair, caressing it as she looked at him pleadingly. Ivar stole a quick kiss before leaning back again.

“I'll be there to comfort you after it's dead.”

Chapter 44: Distress

Ivar sulked under the covers of his bed, one hand constantly worrying at the cut in his lip where Ylva had struck him.There was a knock on the door but whoever it was didn’t wait for an answer before entering. Ivar stared at the wall, trying to will the person away with just his mind.

“Brother?” Ubbe asked. Ivar grunted.

“I take it things didn’t go well.” Another grunt was all the response Ivar offered. The mattress dipped as Ubbe sat down behind his back and a large hand came to rest on Ivar’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Ivar drew in a shaky breath and blinked away the tears that were starting to form.

“She hates me.” He informed Ubbe in the most neutral tone he could force himself to speak in.

“No, she doesn’t.” Ubbe insisted. Ivar scoffed and shifted a little in a half-hearted attempt to make Ubbe remove his hand. It stayed put and Ivar closed his eyes, a calmness spreading through his tense body. He had missed his brother more than he’d like to admit, missed the way that Ubbe was always willing to comfort Ivar even when he disagreed with what his little brother had done. Ivar wanted to ask Ubbe what to do, how to make Ylva understand. The room was silent as Ivar searched his mind for the words needed to form all of the questions he wanted to ask, the words to explain the overwhelming frustration and sadness his wife caused him. Before he could think of what to say, Ubbe spoke up.

“But even if she did, could you blame her?” Suddenly, Ivar found it difficult to breathe, as if a heavy weight had settled on his chest. He dug his fingers deeply into the thick layers of fur and shifted again, more forcefully this time.

“Thank you for the comforting words.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

“Ivar, listen. It’s not too late. It will be difficult but it’s not too late.” Ubbe pleaded but Ivar kept going as if he hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Now if you’d please leave so I can go back to drinking and sleeping.”

“Brother, I don’t think you should-”

“Don’t deny me the few things that give me comfort.” Ivar snapped. He felt Ubbe’s hand twitch where it still rested against his shoulder. Then his brother was gone, walking out the door and closing it behind him without another word. Ivar turned on his side and reached for the jug on his nightstand, pouring himself a cup full of ale. He propped himself up on one elbow and began to gulp down the drink, only to spit it out in shock. It was water. Ivar glared at the door where Ubbe had just disappeared, slamming the cup back down on the nightstand and uttering his brother’s name like a curse word. He crept back under the furs, tugging at one of them and holding it close to his nose. He whiffed at it, taking in Yva’s scent. It had only been a few hours since one of the servants took it from his wife’s bed and replaced it with one of his own. She gets cold so easily .

 

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Ylva trembled with fury. She barely noticed how the women around her fussed and tried to make her calm down. Her right hand was still shaped into a fist, the other arm resting protectively over her stomach. She had struck him, made him bleed. It wasn’t the first time she’d drawn blood from her husband but the other times were different from this one. Now she wanted to hurt him. Not severely, just enough for him to understand that he had crossed the line again. At least that’s what she told herself, in spite of the fact that she had taken several more swings at him after that first blow that split his lip. Ylva’s body couldn’t move as quickly as her temper and that was the only reason Ivar got away without any more injuries. She gasped as the baby kicked again; it seemed as if she wasn’t the only one in distress. Helga and Blaeja continued with their efforts to soothe her while Tanaruz and Wassa stood over by the door, whispering to each other with wide eyes. Ylva knew they had to be talking about Ivar and how cruel he was. She wished she could tell them they were wrong.

 

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“Are you sure, my queen?” Frige asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Blaeja answered, taking the woman’s hands into her own. Frige smiled.

“Then I pray that any children you and your husband have will be healthy. And well-behaved, even though their father is a pagan.” The young queen laughed at that.

“I’ll do my best.” Frige released her hands, instead cupping Blaeja’s face.

“You always do, sweet girl.” The words warmed Blaeja’s heart and she thought once again again of how lucky she was that Frige was still around to offer her support. As much the queen adored Ylva, the pregnant girl needed much caring for; especially since Ivar’s return ten days ago. Sometimes, it was nice to be the one receiving support from others.

“I have to go now, they’re waiting for me. Thank you, Frige, for everything.” The woman nodded and released Blaeja. The queen only made it a few steps before Frige spoke up again.

“Blaeja?”

“Yes?”

“I look forward to having little ones in this villa again. It’s been too long.”

 

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Ivar’s lip had healed well, in spite of his constant poking at it. He helped himself to some of the bread, ignoring the annoyed glares from his brothers. Sigurd wanted them to wait until Blaeja arrived. Stupid. Ivar was hungry now and so he would eat now. Blaeja finally came to the table, her steps unusually light. She sat down next to Sigurd, kissing him quickly on the cheek before gesturing for a servant to come fill her cup. She didn’t even notice that Ivar was already eating. Ylva on the other hand waited dutifully until Blaeja began filling her own plate. The sight of his little wolf being so docile around the queen made Ivar hold on tightly to the armrests, his knuckles turning white as he observed his wife. Ubbe called for his attention and Ivar turned to him, beginning to discuss what battle strategies would work best against the Saxons should they make another attempt at taking back Northumbria. If Ylva could ignore him, then he could ignore her. The hours passed quickly and one by one the women began to retreat to their rooms, leaving Floki, Ivar and his brothers to bicker about the defences. The discussion wasn’t as heated a it could’ve been though; both Ubbe and Floki made sure to keep both Ivar and Sigurd from gulping down too much of the mead. It was well past midnight when Ivar began crawling back to his room. The conversation had brought some much needed relief from his frustration but now it came creeping back. He could see the door to his room and slowed down, not looking forward to another night alone. Someone came running from the corridor to his left. Ivar stopped just in time to not be trampled by Wassa as she came running with Blaeja closely behind. The servant girl spared him a quick glance while hurrying deeper inside the villa. Ivar didn’t need to ask where they were going. He clenched his hands into fists and bowed his head down, staring at the floor as he tried to steel himself for whatever was about to happen. Then he followed them.

Chapter 45: Fall and rise

Summary:

It's baby time.

Ivar entered the room just in time to see Ylva clutch at the bedlinen, face scrunched up in pain. Helga stood at her side, soothing her while Blaeja instructed Wassa and Tanaruz. The girls froze on the spot when they noticed Ivar at the door. Helga glanced quickly at Ylva. His wife hadn’t seen him yet, her eyes squeezed shut as her body tensed. He crawled closer to her and spoke softly, fighting to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“Ylva…” Her eyes flew open and immediately found his. She looked more scared than he’d ever seen her before and for a moment he thought she’d let him stay. Then she narrowed her eyes.

“Leave.” Ylva rasped. Ivar’s heart began to sink into a bottomless hole.

“Wife, let me-” He tried.

“Leave!” She shouted before slumping back against Helga’s side again with sweat forming at her brow. Ivar looked at the other women, saw the hesitation in the older women’s faces and the disgust in Wassa’s and Tanaruz’s.

“Get him out of here.” Ylva hissed through gritted teeth. Blaeja looked down on her feet. Ivar could see the queen bite her lip and a second later she strode towards him.

“Leave, or I’ll call for the guards.” She looked almost apologetic but her voice left no room for argument.

 

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Ivar leaned back against the trunk of the tree; he had made sure to put enough distance between himself and the villa that he could just barely see it. The sun was starting to rise but the air didn’t seem to get any warmer and Ivar wrapped his cloak even tighter around himself. The cold would make his limbs stiffen; going back to the villa wouldn’t be easy. It didn’t matter. There wouldn’t be anything left for him there, no reason to return. He remembered watching Ylva when Ælle was blood eagled and the way she had told him about everyone that had hurt her, trusted him with all of her pain. The way her hair felt between his fingers as he cut it for her and the terror that settled in his stomach a few hours later upon hearing that she was sick. The thrill racing through his body when she told Helga that she wanted to stay in his tent. His sweet Ylva hadn’t even flinched when he pressed his lips to her forehead after she’d said she wanted to kill Ælfric. He had done it without thinking only to instantly pull back as he realized what he’d just done. Ylva had simply pressed closer to him and then drifted off to a peaceful sleep. A woman calmly resting in his arms, of her own free will; his heart had nearly burst with joy that night and now the memory made him smile through his tears. He remembered the first time they kissed, how their faces had gotten sticky with Ælfric’s blood. After they had pulled apart she stuck her tongue out to lick up some of the liquid from the corner of her mouth and Ivar had felt something stir in his trousers. It had given him hope. The way her fingers moved over his scalp as she helped him clean up before curling up in bed with him that night. When she climbed onto his lap and told him that she wanted him, never balking at the sight of his legs and his prick. How he forgot to breathe when she came walking towards him on their wedding day. Ylva was the reason for most of the truly good memories in his life and now she’d also be the reason for the worst ones. Ivar lifted his hands to his chest, pressing his palms closely against it as he tried to fight the terror that had his heart in a tight grip. It didn’t work. Ivar tipped to the side and emptied what little content he had in his stomach on the ground.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there when he heard footsteps approaching.

“Ivar?” He looked up to see Ubbe and Sigurd standing just a few steps away.

“Have you come to mock me, Sigurd? To tell me I deserve losing her?” He asked in a low voice. Sigurd shook his head.

“No.” He and Ubbe sat down on either side of Ivar. Ivar didn’t say anything, only hurried to wipe the tears away then wrapped the cloak even tighter around his frozen body as rain began to drip from the sky. He could sense that his brothers were exchanging glances and Sigurd shifted awkwardly on the ground.

“Do you know what I found out after leaving the table last night?” Sigurd finally said. Ivar only scowled but Ubbe turned his head to look at his second youngest brother.

“I overheard Frige speaking with Helga. Blaeja’s been making sure we can’t have children.” Ivar was tempted to laugh at his brother but he was too tired, too numb to come up with some clever remark.

“She’s stopped now, apparently. I was upset at first, that she didn’t just tell me-” Sigurd laughed nervously “Now I’m scared because she’s stopped.” Sigurd took a deep breath and looked down on his hands.

“What if we still can’t have children?” He blurted out. Ubbe reached past Ivar to try and comfort Sigurd.

“What if there’s something wrong with me? Maybe they’ll be sick-” Ivar cut him off.

“Oh please tell me more about how you, a healthy man, worry that you and your healthy wife will have sick children.” He snarled. Sigurd didn’t speak again. Ubbe’s hand came to rest on Ivar’s shoulder, squeezing gently. They sat in silence for what felt like hours. The drizzle slowly grew stronger until rain was pouring down on the trio of men. Ivar felt Ubbe tugging at him.

“We should go back to the villa.” Ivar shifted on the ground, moving away from his big brother’s grip.

“Ivar, you’ll freeze your ass off.” Sigurd insisted. Still, Ivar didn’t budge. It was quiet, save the sound of rain. Then Ubbe heaved a sigh and sank back down on the ground, settling next to Ivar again. Sigurd followed soon after.

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It was evening again and the Ragnarssons had only been back at the villa for a few hours. Floki had returned from whatever impulse decision had driven him into the forest early that morning. Now he sat with the brothers in front of a fire, all of them dressed in dry clothes. Ubbe and Sigurd tried to coax Ivar into eating but he only turned the piece of bread back and forth in his hands. He had tried to make a servant bring him something to drink but Ubbe would only allow him to have water. Floki cleared his throat.

“Perhaps I should go check on them-” he twirled a chicken bone between his long fingers “see how she is doing.”

“Please stay.” Ivar croaked and Floki silently nodded in agreement. They had seen both Wassa and Tanaruz coming and going, as well as Frige, but no one had said a word to them about what was happening. In Ivar’s mind, that could only mean that either the child was stuck and in the process of killing his wife or that it already was out but Ylva tried to stall him finding out about it in order to save the little monster.

“Ivar.” Blaeja’s voice made him jump and he turned to stare at her. Ivar tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Is it too late to say goodbye to her?” The queen smiled softly at him, shaking her head.

“There’s no need for any goodbyes. Ylva is fine, just very tired.” Ivar let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and several hands were instantly there to pat him on the back.

“You should come with me.” Blaeja said, nodding in the general direction of Ylva’s room. Ivar’s hands formed fists around the piece of bread, squashing it and spreading crumbs all over his clothes and the floor. Blaeja waited for another few seconds before heaving a sigh and turning on her heel. Ivar sat there, still as a statue and staring at her as she walked away. Someone nudged at his shoulder.

“Go.” Ubbe said and Ivar slowly woke up from his trance like state. He called out for Blaeja to wait and she stopped, allowing him to catch up as he moved clumsily over the floor. There were too many questions going through his mind and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answers. A boy or a girl? Did Ylva ask for him or had Blaeja searched him out on her own? Did it look more like him or like Ylva? The legs, were they- Ivar shook his head furiously. As they closed in on Ylva’s room Blaeja hurried ahead and disappeared inside. Ivar crawled through the open door, seeing the queen and Helga speaking with each other in low voices. Immediately he thought of what could’ve gone wrong in the few minutes it had taken her to get him.

“Ylva is asleep.” The queen finally informed him when she saw the worry in Ivar’s face. She gestured at one of the chairs but Ivar ignored it and crawled closer to the bed instead. He thought he could hear something move on the bed, in spite of the fact that Ylva was still. Ivar reached a hand up to brush over her leg through the covers, observed the way her chest rose and fell. Then Blaeja was next to him, reaching past Ylva to pick up a small bundle from the bed. She carefully sat down next to him but Ivar refused to look. Another wave of nausea hit him and he dug his fingers into the edge of the mattress. Helga sat down on the floor too and she placed a hand against Ivar’s cheek. He finally reacted and turned to look at the boatbuilder’s wife.

“Look at your daughter, Ivar.” She pointed at the bundle in the queen’s arms and Ivar reluctantly turned his gaze there. He could see a small hand stick out of the blanket, it moved drowsily. She’s not screaming . The realization made his heart stir somewhere deep down in the bottomless pit; he had always screamed in pain as a child but she didn’t. Then Blaeja inched closer and Ivar flinched back. Helga’s hand quickly came to rest on his back and she gently pushed to make him move forward again. Ivar awkwardly took the baby in his arms, blushing as Helga reminded him to support her neck. He stared at her as she slept. After what felt like an eternity he looked first at Helga and then at Blaeja, asking them a silent question. Blaeja reached a hand out and tugged carefully at the blanket to reveal the little girl’s legs. He sucked in a shallow breath when he saw them and his heart soared back up from the pit. Ivar craned his neck down to press a kiss to each of them; he couldn’t wait to see her walk and run.

Chapter 46: Mine

Ivar barely dared to move. He slowly leant back against the bedframe with the girl still nestled against his chest. The women settled on either side of him, Helga flinging an arm over his shoulder as she looked down at the little being.

“She has Ylva’s eyes.” She informed him. Ivar didn’t know what to answer so he only nodded, watching as Helga let two fingers brush over the small hand. He shifted on the hard floor. His back was starting to protest at the awkward position. He wanted to move but he couldn't; not now that he had the whole world resting in his arms. Blaeja tried to catch his attention but he ignored her. Ivar felt himself begin to tremble and he wasn’t sure if it was more from physical or emotional exhaustion. When was the last time he slept properly? Still, he ignored Blaeja. Eventually, she sighed and moved directly in front of him.

“Why don’t you sit in one of the chairs instead? I can hold her.” She offered. Ivar practically snarled at that but Blaeja didn’t flinch. Helga nudged at Ivar and he was tempted to swat her away; it was his daughter and they had already spent much more time with her than he had.

“Take some time to gather yourself.” Helga said kindly.

“I’m not going to steal her away.” Blaeja said, a strange twitch in the corner of her mouth. With some more encouragement from Helga, Ivar reluctantly let the queen take over. He dragged himself across the room to sit on one of the chairs.

“Give me.” He demanded once he had positioned himself comfortably, arms extended to receive the girl again. He was determined not to hesitate this time. Blaeja rolled her eyes but she smiled as she brought the baby to him. The queen took a seat next to him while Helga remained by the bed, fussing over his sleeping wife and adjusting the covers.

“You probably haven’t thought about it but...do you have any suggestions for a name?” Ivar shook his head.

“I don’t- no, I haven’t even…” His voice trailed off and Blaeja didn’t speak again until Ivar asked her something.

“Has she thought about it?” He nodded in the direction of the bed.

“Yes, but she hasn’t decided yet.” Ivar hummed at that, gaze still firmly planted on the girl. He hoped she’d grow up to look more like her mother, to be more like her mother. Blaeja’s hand landed on his arm, breaking his concentration.

“Ivar, you need to speak with Ylva. When she-” She was cut short by Helga inhaling sharply. The boatbuilder’s wife looked at them over her shoulder as there was a soft groan from underneath the covers. Ylva was starting to wake up, shifting in her bed. Ivar’s heart quickened, both with fear and pride. His little wolf had done so well, had been strong enough to bring their daughter into the world. Ivar took a deep breath; and he hadn’t been there for her. Blaeja and Helga exchanged a glance, something like worry in their faces. The queen turned back to Ivar and reached her arms out. Ivar saw the silent apology in her eyes, understanding exactly what she was trying to do. He leaned away from Blaeja, refusing to let go of his daughter. Not a second later, Ylva's panicked voice cut through the air.

"Where is she?!" Blaeja was out of her chair before Ivar could react, hurrying to Ylva’s side and helping Helga in trying to calm her.

"Ssh, it’s fine. She's just over there." Blaeja pointed to the chair where Ivar sat with the baby cradled to his chest. He looked up, meeting Ylva’s stare as she fought to sit upright. She glanced down at the bundle in his arms, swallowing audibly, before locking eyes with him again.

"Why does he have her?" She asked, never looking at the women as she spoke to them.

"I'm just holding our daughter." Ivar said. Ylva bared her teeth in a silent snarl.

"She's mine. Not ours and certainly not yours."

 

“I do think I had some part in creating her.” He said, trying to smile in spite of the sickening worry rising in his throat. He had known she would be upset but he didn’t think she’d go so far as to say he wasn’t the girl’s father. Ylva’s eyes were like lightning.

"Do you remember what you said you'd do to her?"

"I know what I said. But, Ylva, she's not-" Ivar started.

"A cripple like you?!" She snapped. Ivar bowed his head down.

"Exactly." He said, running a finger down one of the perfect little legs through the blanket. Ylva gave up a noise like a wounded animal.

"So now she's good enough for you." Again, Ivar tried to speak but she didn’t listen. He saw her knuckles go white as she gripped at the bedlinen.

“What if she gets sick, or hurt?”

“I won’t let that happen.” Ivar finally managed to get in between Ylva’s string of increasingly loud words but she only scoffed at him.  

“What if she does? What will you do then; leave her to the wolves?” Her words were like a punch to his stomach, he thought he could feel his heart crack open. Ivar, for one of few times in his life, found himself speechless. His wife had lost all trust in him.

"Give her to me." She ordered Helga. Ivar automatically tightened his grip on the girl, not wanting her torn from him, then jumped as she cried out. Ylva looked ready to lunge at him.

"He's hurting her!" She shouted. Ivar blinked in confusion then slouched at her accusatory words. He relaxed his grip again. Did he hurt her? He didn’t mean to. The girl continued squalling in his arms and he desperately looked to the boatbuilder’s wife for help but he could already feel his willpower begin to seep out of him; he couldn’t just crush the girl against his chest in order to stop them from taking her away. Helga glanced at him, chewing her bottom lip before turning to his wife.

"Ylva-" She started.

“It’s fine. Just take her.” Ivar interrupted, voice strained. He brushed a thumb over her cheek again as she whimpered in his arms then held her out for them to take. Blaeja stepped forward, scooping up the girl and moving her into Ylva's arms. Ylva practically tore her daughter from the queen. She immediately pressed the girl close, delivering kisses to the small head as the girl continued voicing her displeasure. Ivar crawled out of the room, stopping just a few steps down the corridor to lean against the wall. His eyes slid shut. He could hear the door open again and soft steps approached.

“She didn’t ask for me.” It wasn’t a question, he knew he was right.

“No, she didn’t.” Blaeja whispered.

“You waited until she fell asleep to come get me.”

“Yes.” Ivar sighed, rubbing his eyes before asking the question that had him the most worried.

“Did I hurt her?”

“She's an infant, she will fuss and scream.” Blaeja answered. Ivar nodded in agreement but thought to himself that she hadn’t given him a real answer.

Chapter 47: Failing

Notes:

Warnings for this chapter: The usual dose of angst and Ylva struggling with being a mother.

Ylva cooed at the girl, trying to calm her before the whimpering could turn into bawling. The new mother had quickly discovered how difficult it was to eat with a newborn squirming in her grasp. The softness in her face turned into a scowl as she heard her husband clear his throat. Ivar was leaning forward at the opposite side of the table.

“I can hold her while you eat.” He said.

“I’d rather give her to one of your brothers.” She answered with a curt nod towards both of the girl’s uncles. Ylva saw Sigurd shift in his seat; neither he nor Ubbe had been allowed to hold their niece and she wasn’t about to change her mind on the matter. Ivar slumped back in his seat, temporarily silenced. Ylva brushed her matted hair out of the way, still desperately trying to soothe her baby. The girl only whimpered louder and Ylva could feel her bottom lip start to quiver with worry; she didn’t know what to do. Blaeja must’ve noticed because she hurried to place a hand on her friend’s shoulder. The gesture was appreciated but it didn’t do much to ease Ylva’s worry; her baby was still discontent and she had no idea with what.

“May I?” Ylva looked up to see Frige standing next to her, holding a small blanket. The new mother nodded in agreement, turning slightly in her seat so that Frige cold reach better.

“One of the servants used it for her baby but she has no need for it anymore.” The old servant explained while placing the blanket over the girl, careful not to tuck it too hard. Frige took a step back and Ylva waited in silence to see if the added warmth would make any difference. It seemed to work, at least for the time being. Finally, the girl stilled in the pouch sling and Ylva had to hold back a sob of relief. Now able to focus on her plate, Ylva picked up her spoon and began to eat the cold stew.

 

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“Have you decided on a name yet?” Tanaruz asked. Ylva had nearly settled on naming the little one after her own mother; Sólveig. Her mother had been a kind woman and her name held a positive meaning. What made Ylva change her mind yet again was the fate her mother suffered; names were supposed to bring luck but it hadn’t done her mother any good when the Saxons came crashing into the settlement.

“I thought I had, but I’ve changed my mind again.” The new mother said. They continued down the corridor, the girl asleep and resting snugly against Ylva’s chest.

“Where are you going to raise her?”

“I can go with one of the boats back to Kattegatt.”

“And what will you do until then?” Ylva pretended not to hear, which only made Helga become more insistent.

“You know he’ll have to hold her in five days.”

“No.” Ylva said, still looking straight ahead.

“She'll be nine days old then, she has to be acknowledged by her father.”

“I said no .” Her tone was sharper this time but it did nothing to deter Helga.

“Ylva, if you don’t let him do it she can be killed without any repercussions.” Ylva turned, struggling to keep her balance, and snapped at the older woman.

“Why do you care?! You didn’t even want me to have her!” Ylva felt the girl move ever so slightly in her pouch sling and a second later the little being began to squall. The sound ripped through her heart and when Ylva spoke again she fought to keep her voice low, the words barely audible over her baby’s crying.

“I’m not stupid, I know where Ivar got those leaves.” She turned again, continuing down the corridor so that she could go to her room and soothe the girl. The steps behind her informed her that Helga and Tanaruz were still following her.

“I had to take care of Angrboda myself when Floki was away raiding, and then again when he was imprisoned.”

“Hildur said she would help me.”

“Yes, but I could help-”

“As far as I know, Hildur has raised three children and you’ve barely raised one.” That finally seemed to silence the boatbuilder’s wife. They reached the door and Tanaruz rushed forward to open it. Ylva tried to offer the servant girl a thankful smile as she hobbled inside the room though it felt more like a grimace. Helga busied herself with folding some of the clothes but Ylva saw the way she glanced over at the bed where Tanaruz was helping with removing the pouch sling, heard the woman sniffle from time to time. Ylva couldn’t help but smile as she laid the girl down to rest next to her. She brushed her fingers over the little head, tracing along the ears and cheeks, watched as the baby stirred and brought its hands up to its mouth. She was still amazed that this little being was hers. Ylva settled more comfortably under the furs, eyes never leaving the girl that now seemed restless; her head moving from side to side. Just as Ylva tried to soothe the girl by bringing her closer, the precious moment of calm was cut short by a high-pitched cry.

“It’s been long since she ate. She’s probably hungry.” Helga said.

“I know that.” Ylva hissed, cheeks burning red. She sat up against the headboard, tugging at her dress until one heavy breast was free. Ylva picked up the girl and began guiding the little one to her nipple, only for the child squirm away. Forcing herself to stay calm, Ylva made another failed attempt. She could feel them looking at her, taking in every detail of how she was failing to care for her daughter. Ylva made a new attempt and again the girl didn’t latch on. Tears of humiliation stung at the corners of her eyes as the girl whined.

“I can’t.” She sobbed. Helga immediately came to her side and Ylva flinched away.

“Ssh, I’m not going to take her. Just let me try something.” The new mother was too tired and too saddened to put up more of a fight. She let Helga lean down and adjust the way the girl rested in her mother’s arms, all the while speaking softly.

“There. Now, just under the nose.” Helga said once the girl had stopped screaming. Ylva did as the more experienced woman instructed, making sure that her nipple was just below the baby’s nose rather than directly at the mouth. A sob of relief escaped Ylva as her daughter finally started eating.

“Thank you.” Ylva whispered. She wanted to kick herself for already having forgotten every advice Frige gave her after the birth. Helga kept her reddened eyes at the baby.

“It sounds like a lie but when Hvitserk was a newborn feeding him wasn’t an easy task. Aslaug nearly tore her hair out in frustration on more than one occasion.” Ylva looked at Helga from behind a curtain of hair, sniffling as she kept the girl close.

“My Angrboda wasn’t easy either, though not as difficult as the little prince. Give it a few days and you’ll learn, both of you.”

 

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Ivar held himself up with the help of one crutch, his free side leaning against the wall for support. He was alone in the stables, so far. It wouldn’t last for long though, everyone had to prepare for the coming battle. Blaeja had nervously wrung her hands as the scouts reported their findings to her yesterday.

“We can withstand a siege but not for long, your grace. Winter’s just over and we haven’t had the chance to start refilling our storages.”

“There’s been quite a few extra stomachs to feed this winter.” The captain of the house guard had added with a pointed glare at Sigurd and his brothers. They should have the man thrown in a dungeon, see if it makes him more respectful . The weather is still fickle, at least that is to the Saxons’ disadvantage , Ivar thought to himself while calming the white mare with gentle strokes of his hand. The new royal couple of Northumbria also had the numbers on their side, unless the Saxons had managed to hide away a large part of their armies which seemed unlikely. Hearing footsteps approach, Ivar turned to see Ubbe enter.

“Is Sigurd still not done?” He asked, sounding more brusque than intended.

“He’s saying good bye to Blaeja.” Of course, Sigurd’s wife is still speaking to him.

“Want me to give you a hand with the chariot before everyone else comes?” Ivar nodded and Ubbe led the horse outside to where the chariot was waiting. While his brother worked with the harness, Ivar looked at the entrance to the villa. He knew she wouldn’t come and say goodbye, she’d made that very clear earlier this morning when she’d let him in her room to look at their daughter. The rest of the fighters started to appear, donning their armour and weapons. Ivar climbed into his chariot.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ylva wanted to scream at him, ask how he could be so stupid to choose going with the small force that would meet the Saxons in battle. He could just as easily stay with the rest of the army at the villa, sit on top of the fortifications with bow and arrow. She said none of this out loud, only clutched at their daughter as Ivar sat in front of her and cooed at the baby.

“I should go.” He finally said.

“Mm.” And with that he was out the door. As soon as it closed behind him, Ylva reached for the ring in her pocket. She held it tight enough to leave a mark in her palm.

Chapter 48: Strong

Notes:

Just one more chapter to go *nervous laughter*

Warnings for this chapter: Nothing unusual for this fic, some angst and a bit of violence /bodily injury

Ivar urged the white mare on through the chaos. To his right he caught a glimpse of a shieldmaiden driving her sword into a Saxon’s throat and to his left Sigurd and Ubbe hacked their way through a group of soldiers. The outcome was clear as day; he could already see the fighting start to fade, the remaining enemies trying to escape. Ivar raised his unwounded arm, fingers still tightly wrapped around the axe.

“We won!” He shouted. The Vikings closest to him began to cheer and before long his brothers joined in the victorious roaring. Ubbe was making his way towards him, a wide grin on his blood splattered face. Both father and Allfather would be proud of them today. Still, that thought did not occupy his mind for long. There were more important matters on his mind. Ivar would go back to the villa, he would hold his daughter and tell Ylva yet again how much he loved both of his girls.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ivar sighed and shifted in the chariot for what must’ve been the dozenth time. How far away was the villa? He knew that they had strayed farther from it during the battle than initially planned and that the terrain had been made difficult by corpses and weapons covering the ground. Still, the royal villa had never been outside their line of sight and it felt as if hours had passed since they began to move towards it. He urged his horse on again, increasing the distance between him and the army a little more.

“You seem impatient, brother.” Ubbe stated from atop his horse.

“I am.”

“She will be happy to see you.”

“Happy enough to take me back?” Ubbe was silent long enough for Ivar to understand what his brother thought about that question.

“Give her time.” The older prince finally said. As if Ivar hadn’t heard that before. He heaved a sigh, about to tell Ubbe that he knew he’d wronged his wife. His words were cut short by a scream. There was a swooshing sound behind them; it was all the warning Ivar got before something buried itself in his back. Ivar slowly turned his head, looking down on the shaft that was sticking out of him. Another arrow soared past him but Ivar stayed as if frozen.

“Shieldwall!” The sound of Ubbe shouting cleared some of the fog and Ivar finally reacted. He noticed that Floki was already on him, dragging him down on the floor of the chariot. His legs felt as if they were on fire and he wasn’t sure if it was from the impact against the hard wooden floor or if he had been hit again. Ivar twitched violently as Floki tore the arrow away from his back, warm liquid running down his skin. He tried to focus his gaze and thought he could see a shield hovering above him, heard a ripping sound as if someone was tearing through cloth. There was a puff of air as a familiar voice grunted right next to his ear.

“Don’t die, you crippled bastard.”

 

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Ylva sat on her bed, folding and unfolding the baby’s blanket over and over again. She had heard the army return and she knew that her people had won, that Northumbria had won. It felt strange to think of this place as one filled with her own people but also comforting. Fold and unfold. No one had come for her yet. Not Floki, not Ivar. “ I want to see her again when I come back ,” Ivar had said “ and I want to hold her .” She had only scoffed at him, told him that she wouldn't let him hold her if he came crawling in still covered in blood. Fold and- there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” She had barely finished the words when the door creaked open, revealing Floki.

“Ylva.” The boatbuilder was somewhat cleaned up but there was still blood on his hands and sleeves. Fresh blood, not dried like it should be. The blanket became crumpled in her fists.

“Where is he?” He gestured for her to follow him and she hurried to take the girl into her arms. Ylva kept her eyes fixed on their child, let the little ones perfect features soothe her as Floki led her to Ivar's room. She hummed in response as Floki said something about how they wanted to patch Ivar up before coming to get her. Entering the room, she gave the girl one last look and took a deep breath.Ylva lifted her gaze. There he was. Ubbe was kneeling by the bed while Helga stood at the foot end. Sigurd was off in a corner and she could hear him sniffle even though he hid his face against Blaeja’s shoulder. Ylva would never forget the sight of bloodied bandages. She couldn't remember if she asked Helga for help out loud but in the blink of an eye the boatbuilder’s wife had taken the baby into her arms and stepped aside. Ylva brushed past everyone, discarding her crutches and crawling onto the bed. For a moment she met Ubbe’s gaze, seeing the way his jaw trembled. She got on all fours next to Ivar then leaned down to place one kiss on his cheek and another on his nose.

“What happened?” She asked, lips still tracing over his features.

“The Saxons learned something from our attack on Ecbert’s army. They kept some of their archers hidden away, they didn’t reveal themselves until they saw we were on our way back here.” Ubbe’s hand smoothed over Ivar’s arm.

“Guess they figured they should take as many of us down with them, maybe thought the Saxons in our forces would turn against us.”

“We slaughtered every last one of them, Ylva.” Floki added in a growl.

“Bring him to my room.” She murmured against her husband’s face, one hand finding his Mjölnir pendant and twirling it between her fingers.

“I don't think it would be wise to move him, sweet Ylva.” Floki said softly.

“We’ve given him something to help him sleep.” Helga added, rocking the baby as she spoke. Ylva sniffled at that. She kissed him again, on his mouth this time and much more fervently; as if to make sure that he really was heavily asleep and not just pretending. Ylva wasn’t sure there was any punishment severe enough for him if this was all pretend. But Ivar gave no response, only continued his calm breathing as he rested underneath the furs. She couldn’t remember him ever looking quite so peaceful. Perhaps with the exception of the morning after their wedding, with a smile spreading over his face as he woke up to her combing through his hair. Ylva pulled back and began to tug at the furs, almost violent in her efforts to get under them. She curled up against his side, one arm lightly draped over his chest so that she could feel it rise and fall.

“Husband?” She tried again, nudging at his chest. Still nothing.

“Let him rest.” Floki said, making Ylva whimper and hide her face in Ivar’s loosened hair. Stupid boy . Across the room, the girl cried out in Helga’s arms. Ylva shot right up at the sound

“Give her to me.” She said, already tugging at the front of her dress. Helga quickly brought the girl to her mother then lingered at the bedside as Ylva fed her baby. The younger woman murmured a ‘thank you’ in a trembling voice when Helga assured her that they would return to check on Ivar in a little while. Ylva cooed at her child while the others made their way out of the room. She wished that at least Blaeja would stay with her and offer some comforting words but she knew that the queen was expected to attend the celebration. Satisfied that their daughter was done eating, she laid her down to rest beside her. Ylva settled between her husband and their little girl, eyes focused on the baby but her back pressed close enough to feel every shift in Ivar’s movements.

“Don’t worry, hjärtat; your papa is strong,” She ran a finger over the small arm “Stupid, but strong.”

Notes:

Hjärtat - sweetheart

Chapter 49: Ivarsdottír

Summary:

This is it. The last chapter. Thank you sososososo much to everyone that's stuck with this story, thank you for all the kudos and comments *mwah*. I'll keep writing drabbles and possibly one shots for Ivar and Ylva over on tumblr, ship asks and questions are always welcome. I do have an idea for a sequel but I want to see at least the beginning of the new season before I start writing it.

Ivar stirred, groaning a little as he noticed just how stiff and sore his body felt. The bed was much warmer now than when he had fallen asleep and for a moment he panicked, thinking that he had come down with a fever. Ivar forced his arm to move and feel at his own forehead, relieved to find that it didn’t seem warmer than usual. He shifted a little under the furs, giving up a content sigh when the source of heat seemed to come even closer. A hand touched against his cheek and Ivar pouted; he wanted to fall back asleep. The hand insisted in spite of his squirming, went on to smooth over his forehead then lifted the furs to gently probe at the bandages. Ivar felt a growl begin to build inside of him. He was ready to snap when she spoke in a hushed voice.

“Husband?” Ivar willed his heavy eyelids open. Ylva’s face hovered right above his own, pupils blown wide as she caressed him almost possessively.

“Yl-” It was all Ivar managed to get out before she crashed her lips onto his. He struggled to move his arms so that he could grab onto her. She came to see me . Her fingers found fistfuls of hair, keeping him in place as she nipped and sucked at him. Ivar whined when Ylva retreated, no longer peppering him with kisses.

“Don't think this means I’ve forgiven everything you did.” She croaked. Ivar shook his head, one hand starting to pet her hair.

“No, no, I know.” She stole another kiss then tucked her head against the side of his neck.

“Will you let me see her?” He felt her nod against his skin, giving up a barely audible ‘mhm’ and Ivar sighed with relief. A soft cry caught his attention.

“She’s here?” Ivar tried to turn on his side, looking past Ylva for a glimpse of their daughter. She sniffled as she retreated and turned her back to him. Ivar strained his neck to see better, caught a glimpse of a little foot while Ylva crooned at their child.

“I didn't want to leave her with someone else.” She murmured as she repositioned again, facing Ivar with the girl resting in her arms.

“Can I hold her?” Ylva bit her lip then slowly nodded.

“Be careful.” She said as she inched closer to him and laid the girl on his chest. He knew he had earned the warning in her voice but still it hurt. He forgot about it soon enough though, when the girl wriggled inside her blanket as she rested on his chest.

“Hello, min flicka-” He paused to press a kiss to her head “Min skatt.” He marvelled at the way his hand covered her entire back. Ylva shifted next to him, propping herself up against the headboard.

“I’ll ask someone to bring my things here. You shouldn’t move around too much.”

“You’re staying with me?” He asked, earning another ‘mhm’ from his wife. It was tempting to reach for her hand but Ivar didn’t dare to move his grip on their baby. The girl started to grow restless again and Ivar’s heart sped up at her distressed noises.

“Sssh, don’t be sad.” He said and patted clumsily at her back, trying his best to show that he could care for the girl. The noises only grew louder and before long Ylva scooped the girl into her own arms.

“Let me-” Ivar began.

“She’s hungry, or needs a change.” Ylva said firmly, interrupting his attempt to protest. Ivar’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment and he sank back against the furs. He watched as Ylva proceeded to clean their baby and change her diaper. Once done she gave the girl back to Ivar, looking a little less hesitant this time. Ylva settled next to him again and let her head come to rest at his shoulder. Ivar felt her lips brush against his skin as she spoke.

“What should we name her?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ivar crawled alongside Ylva, barely looking where he was going as his eyes kept darting to the bundle resting at her chest.

“I’m not going to fall, Ivar.” Ylva said, having noticed his stare.

“I know.” Most days, Ivar wished that he could walk like any other man but he couldn’t remember the last time he had wished for it so desperately. He continued watching his wife, waiting for any sign that she might stumble as they moved through the villa. The great hall was filled to the brim with people but they were all quick to make way for the trio that moved towards their seats on the dais. Blaeja and Sigurd already sat there, the queen’s face lighting up at the sight of the baby. Ivar waited to see that Ylva took a seat then pulled himself into the chair next to her, biting his tongue to stifle a groan of pain. He turned to his wife and held his arms out, saw her press a kiss to the girl’s forehead before handing her over. Their baby whimpered a little at leaving her mother’s embrace but soon quieted down as Ivar held her close. The noise of the gathered crowd died out as they waited for him to speak.

“This is-” His voice caught in his throat “This is our daughter.” Ivar traced a finger down her cheek, temporarily forgetting what he was supposed to do. How was this real? He was oblivious to the murmur that started to rise as the silence stretched on. The sound of Floki clearing his throat finally woke Ivar from his dazed state and made him turn to look over his shoulder. The boatbuilder sounded amused as he asked Ivar a question.

“And does she have a name?” Ivar nodded, then took a deep breath and turned back to the waiting crowd.

“Dagný. Dagný Ivarsdottír.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ivar smiled as Floki finished telling the baby a story. The boy was only a week old but it was already clear that he felt at home with the boatbuilder; he was fast asleep in the older man’s arms, just like his older sister had been countless of times. Ivar raised his cup and nodded at the duo.

“He likes you.” Floki giggled at that, running a bony finger along the arm that poked out of the blanket. As Ivar took a sip of his drink he heard light footsteps approaching the table in a hurry.

“Papa.” A small voice said next to his seat. Ivar turned, looking down on the girl that stood there.

“What is it, skatt?” She stuck her bottom lip out and raised her arms towards him. Heart instantly melting at the sight, Ivar wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto his lap.

“Did you run away from Helga again?” Ivar asked, pushing the long brown hair out of the way so that he could see her face.

“No.” The girl murmured and squirmed to hide in his cloak.

“Dagný.” She huffed at the strict tone.

“She wouldn’t let me have pie.” The girl said. Floki sighed and nodded.

“I have the same problem, little one.” Dagný peeked at Floki, giggling a little at his exaggerated pout.

“Those pies are for dinner,” Ivar smoothed a hand over her hair “We will have guests tonight.”

“Will mama come too?” Dagný asked as she turned and buried her face against his chest.

“Yes, but for now she needs to rest; your brother kept us up all night.” He had barely finished the sentence before Helga came running into the room, face red and hair a messy halo.

“There you are!” Helga scurried towards the table and sat down next to Floki.

“I’m sorry, Ivar, I turned my back for one second-” She started once she had caught her breath.

“It’s fine,” Ivar interrupted with a smile “But I need to go check on Ylva. Will you keep an eye on this one until I come back?” Helga nodded and Ivar let Dagný back down from his lap before sliding out of the chair himself.

“Don’t run away again.” He said, trying to sound strict, then kissed her cheek and sent her off to Helga. Ivar crawled towards their bedchamber at the back of the great hall. He opened the door, making the dogs that rested next to the bed lift their heads and look at him. The younger one began to wag its tail excitedly, getting up to come great Ivar. It buffed at him with its nose and pawed at his arm.

“Yes, yes. Enough now.” He finally grumbled, lightly shoving the dog aside. Dragging himself towards the bed he saw that Ylva was already awake and peeking at him from under the covers. Ivar rested his chin at the side of the bed.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm-” She rubbed her nose against his “but you need to rest too.” Ylva scooted further in and patted on the now empty space next to her. Ivar had to admit it was tempting.

“Just for a little while. Our daughter is driving Helga insane and Hildur is busy.” He finally said as he heaved himself onto the bed.

“Just a little while.” Ylva agreed, curling up against his side. Ivar relaxed and silently prayed that he’d fall asleep before the dogs started their damn snoring.

Notes:

Dagný - Old Norse name, derived from the elements dagr "day" and ný "new".

 

TRANSLATIONS

Min flicka - my girl
Min skatt - my treasure

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Ivar x Ylva