Learning

Learning

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2161

Summary: Ivar is able to learn more about Reader as her walls slowly comes down.

Author’s Note: I’ve been slow with updating anything. With work and all the things going on in the world, I’ve been much like the reader and preferred to stay in bed all time. Hopefully, I can get back into the groove because I do enjoy entertaining you all with the ideas that pop up in my head.

The Stolen Queen: When Heathen King Meets Christian Queen Lost The Secret Visit

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The knot on the wooden plank across from you seemed to grow the longer you stared at it. You were lying in bed with your arm hanging off the edge and no intention of moving. It seemed like today was going to be the same as the rest. Your ankle was getting better and you could finally put some weight on it but that still didn’t give you enough motivation to step outside.

There wasn’t much of a point. You could only sit in silence with Arn so many times and watch as he sharpened his sword or gutted whatever animal you'd be feasting on that day. Even if he were more of a conversationalist, he knew no Saxon and there were only a few Norse words you could understand. You two were limited on the ways you were able to get your point across to each other. 

Like a few moments ago when he plopped a plate of food onto the bed. He pointed at your lunch, acted like he was spooning it to his mouth before he crossed his arms and waited for you to make your move. You nibbled on a slice of meat just to appease the older man enough to leave you alone. Once he made his exit, you dropped the morsel immediately and went back to staring at the wall.

Your eyes grew heavy as you slowly drifted off for the third time that day. You spent most of your days asleep. Ever since the last time you ran off, you realized that it was only in your dreams when you could escape from these four walls, getting lost in past memories. Some good, some bad, and some that hadn’t crossed your mind since you were younger...

It was the sound of a clay pot crashing right outside your room that woke you from your nap. You stood on the tip of your toes over your pile of blankets to take a peek out of the window. The usual bustle of the marketplace was replaced with panic as people tried to quickly pack up their stalls. Mothers had their children in their arms as they ran from the town center.

The shouting from the other room had you hopping off your bed and quietly walking toward the archway. Your mother and Sigbert, her loyal guard and friend, hovered over the table, looking over the battle plans. The white paint on her face was smudged and now replaced with blood but you weren’t sure if it was hers or someone else’s.

Sigbert pounded his fist against the table causing one of the figurines to tumble onto the ground. “Dammit, Rasha! More than half your warriors are gone. We must leave while there is still time. I know King Wuldric would insist on your safe return to Essex.”

Your mother hung her head as if in silent defeat. Her braids dusted the table below her. “My people need their queen and that far outweighs any need of a foreign king,” her voice was just above a whisper. You had to poke your head out of the archway just to hear her clearly. “You need to return to Essex and you need to take Y/N with you. There is no one else I trust more with her life.”

“You cannot stop them,” Sigbert tried to reason with her one last time.

“Then I will have to die trying.” She looked over to you. “I’ll take comfort that my legacy will live on through her.” Your lip began to wobble when you saw her tears flowing, pulling the red and white coloring down her face. You’ve never seen your mother with such sadness in her eyes and you didn’t know why but it frightened you.

Picking you up, she smoothed your hair back as she tried to stop your tears. “Y/N, Be not afraid, you’ll always be safe with Sigbert. He’s taking you home. Home to your king.” She pressed a kiss against your temple, holding you tight to her before passing you over to your new guardian.

As he carried you off to his waiting horse, you reached out your small hand to her, calling out for her, “Mama! Mama!”

You woke up to the bed shifting next to you. You peaked over your shoulder to find Ivar sitting next to you, picking at the food still left on your plate. Though most days you didn’t feel like seeing him, you didn’t feel particularly up to it today.

“Do you know you mumble gibberish in your sleep?” he questioned before shoveling your leftovers in his mouth. “Arn says you’ve stopped eating. Is something wrong with you? Do you need the healer?”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You turned your head away from him, focusing on the knot in the wall again. You heard the clink of the plate being set on the floor before the bed dipped right behind you. 

“You know you can talk to me, you don’t have to be afraid.” His warm body was close to you as you felt him twirling your hair around his finger. 

You could only laugh mockingly, refusing to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“You can. Anything you say here will not get you in trouble.”

You rolled over to face him, “Anything? Like I can tell how much I dream of climbing on top of you.” His eyes widened as you straddled his waist before you leaned down to press your forearm against his neck. “So I can slice open your throat or stab you in the heart.”

Your threat must have fallen on deaf ears when he smiled up at you, his hands slowly sliding up your thighs and under your dress, “Maybe if you get a hold of another chicken bone, you’ll get your wish.”

You smacked your hand on his chest in annoyance before climbing off him and the bed. Stomping out of the cabin to get some distance from him, you tried to not focus too much on the jolt of electricity that flowed through your body when his rough hands were on you.

You could hear him getting off the bed and the strike of his crutch hitting the ground as he made his way outside.

“Come with me,” Ivar ordered as he passed by you and walked over to his chariot. 

You slowly followed him with your arms crossed in front of your chest, standing by and watching as he climbed in. You raised a brow when he held his hand out to you.

“You could walk along with me, my queen, but I think it’ll be faster if you ride with me.”

Pushing his hand away, you grabbed onto the side of the chariot and you pulled yourself in. 

He chuckled as he grabbed the reins. “Still stubborn as ever, I see. Maybe nothing is wrong with you.”

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It felt like it didn’t take long for the horse and chariot to break through the edge of the forest. The trees had cleared out, exposing the bluff that was in the distance. Ivar would come here when he needed to be truly alone with his thoughts but with trying to visit you and with his duties as King, there hadn’t been enough time to come back. 

He had been away for some time, busy checking on the stronghold at York. He had hoped you’d be more welcoming to his presence when he arrived at the cabin instead he was informed by Arn that you rarely left your bed and were barely eating despite his efforts. Ivar thought that a change in scenery would heal whatever was ailing you.

When the chariot came to a stop, you made a move to climb out but he gently pushed you back before he stepped down and, once again, held his hand out to you. Rolling your eyes, you finally took his hand and his assistance in getting out from the chariot. 

He propped himself up against a large boulder, watching you as you walked toward the edge of the cliff, taking in the view of the bay. You closed your eyes while you took in the ocean air, wind whipping your long curls around as you stood still.

Backing away from the edge, you started making your way towards him. “Is all of that down there your kingdom?”

Ivar tried to not be so excited that you were initiating the conversation for once. “It is. You sound surprised.”

“Well, with how boastful you are, I assumed it to be much smaller,” you smirked as you took a seat on the grass not too far away from him. 

While he would have been content sitting in silence with you, there was a question weighing on his mind since he took you from Powys. “Why did you run away?”

“You let me go so I--”

“No, from your kingdom, from your husband.”

You continued to stare straight ahead as if you needed a moment to consider your answer, “I was tired of it. Tired of being his queen.”

Ivar snorted at your response and looked down at you incredulously, “You are an odd woman. You could ask any woman in Kattegat if they would want to be a queen and I don’t think one would tell you no.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be a queen. I didn’t want to be his queen. I don’t think I desire to be any man’s queen if they’re anything like a Fremund. I’d rather be a queen without a king.”

“There’s a simple solution for that. Just get rid of your king.” He suggested as he made a slow, slicing motion across his neck.

You laughed at what he was insinuating, “I can’t say that the thought never crossed my mind. I think I’d be dead if I ever tried.”

“When we first met, you said that he wanted you to be a proper queen. What would that be?”

“According to Fremund? One that is only seen and not heard. Just a piece of decoration in the room when he’s entertaining other kings or earls,” your voice was dripping with disdain. “My father once told me that iron sharpens iron. ‘A great king should have no intention of trying to change, control, or silence his queen. He should want her to be as strong and as outspoken as him because her strength is a reflection of his own.’ I learned early on in my marriage that my husband didn’t share the same views.”

Ivar didn’t miss the way you touched the side of your face as if you were recalling a bad memory. He wondered if your usual unwillingness to talk wasn’t just because of your need to defy or irritate him but that it was an ingrained trait.

You stared down at the ground, plucking the grass. “That’s when I started to run away. But his men would always find me. I became a prisoner in my own kingdom. He surrounded me with handmaids and his guards and decreed that I was to never be left alone.” You cut your eyes to him with an irritated look on your face. “It’s funny that I am so far from Gwynedd, yet his order still holds.” 

He constantly wondered how he could convince you to accept your new home. But he now realized that your instinct was to run when someone tried to control and hold you back. “I think I owe you an apology, Y/N. Maybe I was mistaken to have you kept so close to the cabin. You should be free to explore the lands you live on or to even come back here if you wish.”

You looked pensive as you considered what he was telling you. “So I’m still your prisoner but with a larger jail cell?”

“You will be my guest. I’m giving you the freedom to roam and live as if you were a queen without a king. But you must understand I can’t leave you alone. It’s for your protection. I think we both know that you would get lost in the forest and die if you were left on your own.”

You nodded along in agreement. The furrow of your brow had him prepared for whatever clever comment was about to exit your mouth. “Why haven’t you punished me for going against you?” you wondered. “Fremund would have at least backhanded me for less.”

Ivar walked over to you, offering his hand to you. The sun was getting low, he was needing to get you back home. “Because I am not your husband, I’m not a weak king.”

Without any resistance or roll of your eyes, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to help you up.

He led you to the chariot with his hand at the small of your back. “And I can appreciate a strong queen when she’s right next to me.”

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Endnote: The quote from Reader’s father is actually one I found from a quick google search. Here’s the actual quote:

“A king had no intention of trying to change, control, or “shut up” a queen. He wants his woman to be as strong and tactfully outspoken as him, with her own mind, because he knows, his woman’s strength is a reflection of his. Iron sharpens iron.”—ebrahim aseem

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Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​ @walkxthexmoon​ @ivarsgoddess​ @tsumamibaddie​ @akaward-potato​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @castielsangelsx​

(Edited to fix tags. 😒)

I had a bad feeling about Dabria right off the bat especially when you said she had fox eyes. I assumed she was going to try to friend Artemis then stab her in the back but I’m glad you got rid of her right away. We don’t have time for all that!

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 23- Silver Fox

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 6235

Warnings: Some violence.

AN: Kinda long, kinda boring, not my favorite chapter 😅

22- Queen

…

Artemis runs a hand over the smooth wood of her throne, the very one Lagertha sat in and Aslaug before her. It was hard to even call it hers.

The wood was buffed to a shine and draped in fine fabrics and warm bear fur, enhancing its regal image. The night of their wedding went by in such a haze that she didn’t pay much mind to her surroundings. It was loud then, full of merry making and fascinating stories. Now it was empty, quiet, and incredibly large. The thrones were slightly elevated, sure to remind those of their place.

The current Queen stands to face the authoritative seat, imagining the women who have sat there before her. She was born a commoner and it was a part of her that would never wash away, and she wondered if she was worthy of such a powerful seat. She stood a while longer, her fingertips brushing through the soft fur.

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I don’t know about Tordis. I’m just paranoid that Lagertha’s supporters could just pop up anywhere at this point!

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 24- Let Them Come

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 3134

Warnings: Corpse burning.

AN: I found this GIF a long time ago on tumblr and I have no idea who made, but credit to them.

23- Silver Fox

… The makeshift pyre was constructed in a matter of hours. Dabria was secured tightly against the wood with mountains of hay surrounding her corpse. Artemis’s eyes followed the dancing flames as they licked at the dead woman’s feet.

She stood beside Ivar and all the people behind them, to watch her burn. The colorful flames illuminated the night sky and the smell of scorching flesh lingered in the air.

Dabria’s face was a mangled mess of loose beating red flesh. Her skull was visible under all the flapping skin, cracked and deformed. It did not bother Artemis in the least, not as it would have before. She assumed her heart would ache, or at the very least, grieve the death of a misfortunate woman. But she didn’t. Her heart hardened and her eyes were blank. Perhaps it was because the woman was not alive, but merely a corpse. The dead could not feel anymore pain.

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Nia has just a little bit more patience than me. I think I would have been out of the house as soon as he rolled his eyes.

And I totally groaned out when he said he wasn’t racist because his girlfriend is black. 😑 just....stop talking, honey bro.

00:00:13

Genre: Social responsibility

Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OC

Warning: Language, racial slur, prejudice, mention of the YouTube video

Rating: M+18

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr​

For: @xbellaxcarolinax​ - thanks for lending me an ear and encouraging me to continue writing this story

A/N:  So, I don’t know if this is the right time to post this story or not, but it’s been weighing heavily on my heart for some time now. During one of my many Alex rabbit hole stalking internet searches, I came across this YouTube video of him from a few YEARS ago that made me feel a certain kind of way.  Admittedly, I went through a ton of different emotions.  I made a bunch of excuses for him.  I tried to justify him being drunk, young, being from a different country…not understanding his actions.  As a black woman, I was saddened, and a little heartbroken, but I truly don’t think there was any malice behind it.  I think it was just poor judgement on his part. But, in the end I came up with, he’s a grown man and as a public figure he needs to be more responsible.  

I am in no way trying to sway anyone’s opinion of him, turn you against him, make you seek the video out or anything else.  I just needed to speak MY truth and get my feelings out about the situation. I’ve been the black girl in too many interracial relationships and friendships with people that just don’t get it. I am in no way trying to offend anyone - these are just my feelings.  I just needed an avenue to speak out.  

Anyway, it didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted it, mainly because I was in my feelings, but I think it’s close enough.  Part 2 will be a little less raw and explain a little more.  Since I can’t write a one-shot, I think it’ll just be a two-shot.  

In the end I’m still an Alex fan and he could get it, at ANY moment…just say the words, Boo!  😍

I invite your comments, thoughts, and feelings…if you just wanna talk, feel free to hit me up.  I’m always open for a good discussion.

With that, 

Be easy!

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💚💚💚

In some black communities there’s still a stigma that kinky or coarse hair is “bad”, which couldn’t be further from the truth. There’s no such thing as good or bad when describing someone’s natural hair texture or type. To those struggling to love and accept their natural hair because of societal pressures, remember this - straight, curly, kinky or wavy, it doesn’t make a difference. Embrace your hair the way it is, no matter what society tells you. All hair is good hair. It’s your Crown.

Gerrel Saunders

I love corny fluff! 💚💚

They need to get to work and make sure the first part of the Seer’s prophecy comes true! 😉

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 22- Queen

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis

Word Count: 3816

Warnings: Corny fluff.

AN: As always, thanks for reading.

21- The Seer

…

Beads of gold and small pearls were threaded into her hair, weaved into one large plait perfected by Geirdis’s thin fingers.

“You look lovely, my lady.” She says, placing the pendant of Mjölnir over Artemis’s collarbone, securing it at the nape of her neck.

The lady in question did not recognize herself. The lavender water in the large bronze bowl ripples at the slight touch of her small fingers, her distorted reflection revealing kohl lined eyes and rouge colored lips.

“She’s quite right, dear sister-in-law, as lovely as Frejya herself.” Hvitserk smiles as he walks in past the leather divider, hands clasped behind his back. Artemis turns around to look at him, smiling happily at his arrival.

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