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Iconic vines as bad hipster edits

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When Heathen King Meets Christian Queen

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 1492

Summary: Ivar finds more than just gold when he raids the Kingdom of Powys.

Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: Oh, looky! I’m back with another one about my new favorite couple. And I’m also back with my bad titles :) Figured I should go back to when our couple first met. It’s not quite an easy start.

—-

“Who is she?” Ivar questioned the eleven prisoners kneeled before him, the last of King Fremund’s men sent from Gwynedd to help defend the Kingdom of Powys. Even with the swords and knives held against their necks, they stayed silent much like the stubborn woman in his tent. “Am I not speaking the right language? Maybe we should start ripping you open slowly, one by one, until I can get my point across.”

The shudder he heard let him know that he was being understood clearly but still no one spoke. He signaled to one of his men to commence cutting into the first prisoner in line while he went over to stand next to Hvitserk, hoping he’d get some answers soon.

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@tsumamibaddie

When Heathen King Meets Christian Queen

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 1492

Summary: Ivar finds more than just gold when he raids the Kingdom of Powys.

Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: Oh, looky! I’m back with another one about my new favorite couple. And I’m also back with my bad titles :) Figured I should go back to when our couple first met. It’s not quite an easy start.

 ----

 “Who is she?” Ivar questioned the eleven prisoners kneeled before him, the last of King Fremund’s men sent from Gwynedd to help defend the Kingdom of Powys. Even with the swords and knives held against their necks, they stayed silent much like the stubborn woman in his tent. “Am I not speaking the right language? Maybe we should start ripping you open slowly, one by one, until I can get my point across.”

The shudder he heard let him know that he was being understood clearly but still no one spoke. He signaled to one of his men to commence cutting into the first prisoner in line while he went over to stand next to Hvitserk, hoping he’d get some answers soon.

“I don’t understand why you care so much about this woman, Ivar? Just put her with the other thralls,” He contested before taking a sip from his horn. Both brothers unphased by the shouts and screams in the background.

“There’s just a mystery about her. These Christians don’t typically let their women pick up a sword yet she fought as valiantly as their strongest man,” he praised. Though small in stature, you were hard not to notice as you sped down the hill even faster than some of your men. No fear or hesitation on your face. Not even after you were captured, especially not after you spat in his face when asked for your name.

Hvitserk gave him a disinterested shrug. “Maybe they just decided to let this one fight?,” he countered.

“Did you not see how they formed a wall around her when we had them surrounded? Why go through all that effort even if she was a common shieldmaiden?,” he wondered, mostly to himself. He didn’t think his brother was as invested in this puzzle as he was.

Whatever flippant answer Hvitserk was about to offer was cut off by a guttural scream from the tortured prisoner, begging his captors to stop.

Ivar raised his eyebrow at his brother before walking over to the man tied on the table. Blood from the deep cut through his stomach was pooling down onto the surface he was laid on. Leaning down to bring his ear close to the prisoner’s mouth, a smirk slowly crept across his face as he heard his whispers. 

He stood up straight and pointed towards the remaining prisoners, “Kill them all including their very helpful friend here, they’re no use to me now.” He began walking to the direction of his tent. “I think I’m going to pay our important guest a visit.”

----

You were being held in a tent separate from your men, tied to the pole in front of you. The rope burned your now bloodied wrists as you struggled to get loose. You first tried to untie them but just like your captors, their knots were equally as ruthless.

You didn’t plan for this. You had seen yourself celebrating the Heathens’ defeat with your men or dying a true warrior’s death with your sword in hand on the battlefield. You even accepted that you may be a target of your husband’s wrath once he found out you ran off yet again but being captured by the enemy never entered your mind as a possibility.

A scream that sounded off in the distance reminded you of all the stories you heard about what these men were known to do to their enemies. In desperation, you began to lean back away from your bonds, praying the blood seeping down your hands would help you slip through. You probably shouldn’t have spat in their king’s face. Better yet, you should have listened to your men when they pleaded to you to let them escort you back to Gwynedd but your stubborn pride wanted just one taste of a fight.

“And what would be your plan after you got loose?” a melodic voice broke through your panicked grunts. You jumped at the sound, maneuvering your way around the pole, desperate to have something between you and the Heathen King. “I have three of my men standing guard out front, not to mention everyone else in my camp. Would you fight them all?”

You hoped that he would take your silence as an act of brave defiance and not because you didn’t consider your next move if you ever got loose from your binds. If you were fated to die, you’d rather have someone remember you as brave instead of stupid.

He slowly walked closer to you to take your hands into his one, gently caressing one of your wounded wrists, “Still nothing to say?” He held his hands up as if he meant no harm when you pulled your wrists away from him. “I’m going to ask you this one more time, little one, and do try to not spit in my face again: who are you?”

You chose to lower your head at his question as if the answer could be found on your face. With his axe underneath your chin, he brought your head up to look at him.

“I think it’s best you know that sometimes I can be a very impatient man and don’t like to be kept waiting,” he warned while looking straight into your eyes. The edge of his axe threatened to dig into your skin but still you refused to answer him. He titled his head to the side and pulled his weapon away from you before he started chuckling, “I’m kidding, I already heard enough from one of your men. I must say, you’re a very interesting woman. Most queens would try to use their status as a bargaining chip but not you.”

Upon seeing your eyes widened in surprise, he had his confirmation, “Hmm..I assumed he was lying to me when he said I had the Queen of Gwynedd in my hands. Some men will say anything when they’re being gutted like a fish. Maybe you could at least tell me why would King Fremund send such a precious thing,” he reached out his hand to caress your cheek but you shied away from his touch, “out to fight while he sits comfortably on his throne.”

You chose to look straight ahead instead of answering him.

“That’s fine, Little Queen. Stay quiet,” he whispered as he smoothed his hand down your hair before making a move toward the tent entrance. “I’m sure your men will have plenty to say if they don’t want to have the same fate as their friend.”

“No!” You cried out to him. You didn’t want to be responsible for anymore lives lost from those who were sworn to protect you. “Just don’t...don’t hurt anyone else. I had ordered them not to say anything.”

“Well I will see to it that no more of your men will be harmed. I swear.” The feeling at the pit of your stomach told you not to trust his words or the smile on his face. “So why would Fremund send you to fight for him?”

“He didn’t. He doesn’t even know that I am here,” you gave out a frustrated sigh as you pressed your forehead against the wood in front of you, “Only the few men I have left here, and now you, are aware of my whereabouts.”

“You looked very comfortable with a sword and I’m sure he’s aware that you have the heart of a fighter. If he’s a smart man, wouldn’t he think of coming to Powys to look for you?”

“No, he thinks that I would never have the courage to run into battle. That I should only be a proper queen, not a silly girl with silly dreams,” you willingly locked eyes with him as you admitted this. 

Looking down at the rope around your wrists, you guessed that Fremund was right. You were just a silly girl acting out a fantasy. You took some consolation in the fact that if you die, then you would never have to hear him say that he told you so.

He lifted your head up with his axe once again so that he could look you in the eyes one last time, “It’s a shame he probably won’t ever know that he had such a strong Queen by his side.” 

You closed your eyes and held your breath, waiting for the blade to cut through your neck. Instead you heard it whack into the pole before your arms fell down at your side. Your brow was furrowed in confusion as you opened your eyes.

“As my guest, it’s only right that you get a chance to make yourself more comfortable before we leave.” He walked towards the entrance of the tent but paused right before he made his exit, turning to look back at you. “Y/N, do not take advantage of my kindness. You try to run away from me, I will see to it that you can’t run again.”

----

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Oh this has got my ovaries going.