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Yours Truly - Chapter 10: Girlfriend?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 2.9k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. self-conscious OC, fluff, a kiss, adorably oblivious OC.

chapter index| prev | next

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NOVA

"Did you choose this dress?" I asked over the locked door, as I studied my reflection in the floor-length mirror. It was a cream white dress, with wildflower patterns adorning its entirety, the straps were tie-straps and the dress reached just a little above my knees. It was beautiful, and elevated the remembrance of summer days. The dress hugged my figured surprisingly, and I can only logically say that in dreams, of course a dress would fit perfectly. It is my dream, after all. 

"Yes and no." 

I roll my eyes at his response, of course. I take one final glance at the mirror and sigh. It is only natural to feel insecure, but its very existence loomed over me for majority of my teenage years. Being not 'conventionally beautiful' in a high school setting really does something to a young girl's self-esteem. I know now that outer appearance is not all that makes up a person, but it still does hurt when harsh words aim at something you were born with, it eats your soul. So, I guess even at the age of 21, webs of insecurity are still something I battle with. 

"You never give simple answers, do you?" 

Elvis chuckles, "I don't know what you mean. Are you done?"

"Give me a sec." 

I turn around and check my reflection in the mirror one last time. What if the dress is beautiful, but me wearing it destroys it? I purse my lips at the thought, but I don't really want to go back to wearing my pyjamas. What to do? 

"I can almost hear your mind running wild, doll. " He muses, his voice was closer to the door. 

Ok, breathe, Nova. Just get out there and if you look atrocious in the dress, you can always just blink your eyes and wake up from this dream. I try hard to tell myself. 

I take a deep breath. 

"Darlin, do you need help? I wouldn't want to be the shitty guy who's out here waiting when you are out there struggling-" 

I swing the door open, which cuts off his sentence. Elvis is leaning against the wall of the hallway, but he straightens to stand up suddenly. His familiar blue eyes gazed at me, slack-jawed. I take my hand off the door handle and take a cautious step towards him, my hands fiddling. His eyes trail from my legs up to my head, holding my gaze for what seems like an eternity. I hug myself, rubbing my arms consciously. 

What is he thinking?

"I, um. . . sorry I took so long." I finally say, the words seem to get stuck in my throat. My voice was unfamiliar to me, there was shake to my tone. This much attention, coupled with strong silence - I never know how to act. I don't think anyone else has looked at me like that, except for- well, I can't think about him right now. 

"No, no, don't be sorry. " Elvis says, shaking his head. He steps forward and takes both my hands in his, removing them from my self-conscious guarding. 

He breaks out into a smile, "You look beautiful, Nova." 

There's that thump again in my chest. Whenever he is within this close proximity to me, his scent encompasses my senses - that familiar cologne. I honestly do not know how all those woman in the past managed to contain themselves being this close to him. It's like a magnetic pull, an invisible rope that I know I can't fight against, or that I don't want to.

"Thank you." I softly say and looked down at my feet, "But I don't suppose I go wherever we are going wearing these house slippers, right?" I question, in hopes to cut the prevalent tension. 

Elvis laughs at this, as he bites on his bottom lip, "Nah, I don't think it helps your height." 

I gasp and hit his arm playfully, "Rude! Bye now, Presley. I'm off." I dramatically walk past him, but I am not fast enough as he catches my arm quickly. I then feel both of his arms wrap around my waist rapidly, his chest pressed firmly against my back. 

"No, honey, I'm sorry. I was only joking." He laughs, and I can feel his smile against my cheek. 

Oh god. He has never done this before, and this is a different level of closeness. Something you do when you know someone so intimately, and that thump in my chest beats far rapidly. I can almost feel it about to leap out my chest. But nevertheless, I feel my lips stretch out Into a smile, as I feel my face heating up. 

Our laughter dies down and we are once again met with silence.

"Please, don't leave me, Nova." He says this time, in whispers of desperation. So quiet that I almost didn't catch it. 

Is he afraid that I'll end this dream sooner than he wanted, and then he'll have to wait for me again the next time I close my eyes. 

"I won't." I softly say, tilting my head a little to the left to turn to him. 

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

I sit down in the passenger seat of his car, I am sat down sideways with the car door open and the right side of my body leaning against the back of the car seat. I glance down at him on his knees in front of me. 

"And you just so happen to have this in your car?" I asked him, referring to the pair of white heeled-sandals that are in his hands. 

"In case of emergency," He looks up at me and winks. 

"Elvis, you do know I can manage putting shoes on myself." I chuckle. 

"I know, darlin. But let me just do this for you, okay?" Elvis grins. 

I nod as I know there is no point in disagreeing, once he has his mind set on something he'll do it. 

His hands are soft and careful as he slips my feet into the pristine white heels. The contact of his hand against my skin doesn't go unnoticed by me, as I feel heat rush to my cheeks. He finishes putting the final strap on and suddenly leans down, planting a kiss on the area right next my ankle. 

I gasped, "Hey!" My cheeks are no doubt turning a bright shade of pink. 

"Sorry, couldn't help it." He looks up with that infamous smirk of his, not apologetic at all. 

"Well, thank you." 

"For the kiss?" He says mischievously. 

"No, not for the kiss, oh you are impossible." I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. 

I slip both my legs into the car into a comfortable position, as Elvis stands back up. He closes my car door and jogs around, quickly getting into the driver's seat. He starts up the car, and slips on his sunglasses. I stare in awe at the infamous musical gates of Graceland as we pass through them, "Who opened the gates?" I asked him, as he heads down the main road. 

"Consider it a magic trick," Elvis replies, briefly glancing at me before refocusing his eyes on the road. 

Both of the windows on either side are rolled down, perfectly welcoming the fresh breeze into the vehicle. The wind accompanied my hair, letting the strands dance wildly which I am sure I will have to fix later on. The sun hangs high in the dreamy blue sky, encapsulating scorching hot heat onto my skin.

"It's so warm for a December day, " I admit, it's definitely not the usual temperatures for a day in the supposedly Winter months. But I suppose in the land of dreams, nothing really Is logical. 

Elvis chuckles, "I ain't complaining, just embrace the change." 

"Neither am I. It's good." 

Although the gust of wind is continuous as Elvis speeds through the roads, the scorching heat of the sun still permeates my skin. I have the right clothing on and the right shoes, so it's just my thick, long hair not really helping the situation. 

"Damn it, why don't I have a hair tie?" I mutter to myself, instinctively looking down at my wrist as I pull my hair up in a ponytail. I purse my lips in thought, what can I use to tie my hair up? I pause on my train of thought as I feel his gaze on me in my peripheral vision. I turn my head to look at him, and see his eyes flicker briefly to my exposed neck - his sunglasses are half-tinted blue, making his gaze much more prevalent compared to normal fully-tinted ones. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for something to tie my hair." I find myself explaining, and he simply nods and refocuses his attention back on the road. His jaw is noticeably tensed, with his bottom lip between his teeth. I wonder if he's deep in thought about something. 

He mutters something under his breath, and I think it's along the lines of "Lord, have mercy." He pushes back his hair with his one hand that's not on the steering wheel.

"Elvis, are you okay?" I ask.

Elvis clears his throat, "Yeah, yeah. 'Course I'm good." 

"Okay, I just wanted to makes sure you weren't in pain or something." I chuckled, smiling at him. 

He shakes his head, "In pain? Now, why would I be in pain?" 

"Nothing." I shrugged, "It's just you looked a little tense there for a second."

He lets out a chuckle and gives me a wink, "There's nothing to worry about, darlin', trust me." 

Before I could spark a new subject of conversation, the car comes to halt as Elvis switches the engine off. I observe where he parked, which is in the middle of a vast landscape. He has basically parked on grass. 

"We are here." He states. 

"Um. . . this is the middle of nowhere." I say, as a matter-of-factly.

Elvis gets out of the car and quickly opens my car door for me, with his hand outstretched. I gratefully take it, "Thank you."

He shuts the car door, locks the car - all without letting go of my hand. 

"Are we going to have a picnic? Do you have a picnic basket? I mean, there's literally nothing here. But it is the perfect weather to have a picnic, for sure. Or are we going to play football? or any other sports? Elvis, I'm terrible at sports, I can't cop-"

He cuts off my nervous ramblings with a laugh as he turns his body to face me completely, "Breathe, baby. Breathe. I'm with you, okay?" His thumb gently grazes my cheek, before returning his hand into tightly intertwining with mine. 

baby. 

I feel my pulse quicken, my heart hammering ruthlessly against my chest. And something tells me it's not because of the unknown, but because of him. His way of being so affectionate, gentle, and- I should really stop thinking about it. I can't hold onto this thought any longer. Elvis is a charmer, I mean, I guess he is like that with everyone. It is only natural for him to be so, so. . . close. 

I slowly nod after taking a deep breath. His lips spread into a smile, as he tugs me along with him. We walk down hill a little and not long after, I hear the sound of excited chatter and music booming from speakers fill my ears. We keep on walking, until we find the source of all the sound. There, in the middle of the vast empty grass, was a walkway leading up what looked like two giant light tan-coloured tents that are combined together. As we walk closer, the tents seemed to be held up by numerous solid wooden poles. I immediately stop walking, as my eyes widen in realisation on where we are going, "A party?" I turned to Elvis to confirm my guess. 

"Hmm, not exactly." 

"What do you mean?" 

Elvis ignores my question and tugs me along with him. We keep on walking down the pathway until we are at the very opening in the middle of the two tents. The music and the chatter grow louder and louder, until we are right inside of the tent. Fairy lights dazzle my vision, framing the entirety of the main entrance and the large inner space. Numerous rustic tables adorned the space, with around eight or so people on each table. At the very middle of the it all is a mirrorball. A simple stage is at the very front of all the tables, and a bar to the far left. What seems to be hundreds and hundreds of people occupy the space, all adorned in such formal clothing. But what catches my eye is the three-layer cake on the long table beside the stage, "This is. . . stunning. It's a wedding reception."

Elvis nods. 

"This was not on my list." I say, challenging him. 

"Are you sure 'bout that, Nova?" He grins mischievously. 

Oh no. What now?

Suddenly, a man dressed in security uniform approaches us rapidly. His eyes are narrowed at us, with a clipboard in his hand. 

"I didn't see you both at the entrance. Names?" He questions, suspicion evident in his tone. 

Well, shit. Did I see Elvis take in invitations? I don't think he had any invitations in his hand when we left Graceland. 

"I'm Aaron and this is Katerina." Elvis confidently says, smirking at me. 

First off all, how does he know my middle name? Well, I mean, I know his but that's not the point. 

The guard flips through the pages of his clipboard and shakes his head, "Neither of you are on the list, which means you have both just broken into a private event." 

Oh shit. 

I pull Elvis' arm and frantically whisper into his ear in a panic, "Elvis, this is not good. This is really not good." 

"I've got this, doll." He whispers back calmly with a smirk. 

Elvis turns back to the man, "You see. . . Gregory is it?" He asks, briefly glancing at the name tag on the guard's uniform, in which the man firmly nods. 

"Gregory. Listen, pal, " He steps forward and places a hand on the man's shoulder, he then leans down and whispers something to him as he gestures to me. 

Damn it. What is he saying? 

The guard, Gregory, his face goes a deep shade of red as his eyes widen at me. Elvis leans back and returns to stand next to me, intertwining our fingers. 

"Now you see why, Gregory?" Elvis dramatically sighs, in fake sadness. 

The man nods his head and sputters out a string of apologies, "I-uh. . . of course! Silly me. I apologise to you and your girlfriend. I am so sorry for the trouble." 

"It's all good, man. " Elvis smiles brightly, as Gregory walks away very quickly. 

My mouth is hung wide open in shock and surprise, I turn to Elvis with my eyebrow arched at him in confusion. 

"Girlfriend?! What on earth did you tell the him? You frightened the poor guy to death." 

Elvis simply laughs at my reaction and tugs me along with him, "I'm afraid I can't spill my secrets, baby."

There he goes again with the pet names. 

"No, I want to know!" I pout at him. 

He hums, "Maybe another time. Let's crash a wedding first?" He questions, smirking at me.

I roll my eyes and chuckle, "Fine. But this is not the end, E.P." 

"Wouldn't dream of it, Nova."

next

Yours Truly - Journal entry no. 2

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 468

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. This is supplemental material to the on-going series 'Yours Truly' please DO NOT read this if you have not read the previous chapters 1 to 10.

chapter index | prev | chapter 11

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AN ENTRY FROM NOVA'S JOURNAL 

December 9, 2022 

Dear journal, 

Well, I suppose here we are with the second entry. I thought it was about time I gather my thoughts somewhere, on what has happened in my life so far. 

First and foremost, he is still appearing in my dreams. There has never been one single night that he hasn't. Just last night. . . he helped me cross another item off my list - crashing a party. or a wedding reception, more like. I just can't explain how I can always remember every detail. It's not like a snapshot of a blur of photos. No it's more than that. 

I remember our conversations. every single word. And how each one is said. I remember how he smiles or gives me that mischievous grin of his. I remember the way the sun touches my skin and the chatter of people and the music and his sneaky kisses. 

All of it puzzles my mind. 

I do know that I can't tell Luke or Charlotte about any of this. They are my good friends, but this is beyond the level of being comprehensible. Heck, even I would give them a look if one of them told me something like this was happening to them. It does not sound remotely logical. It does not sound very. . .Nova. 

But there are a few things that I am sure, that I am certain of. I while ago I asked him if he was real and he nodded. There is a chance he's real. He mentioned at our first meeting on the train that he is aware that he died. Then that could only mean that he is a ghost appearing to me from the afterlife? That is the only logical answer I could pinpoint. Even coming to terms with that, it clutches at my heart, an indescribable feeling I can't quite comprehend. Overwhelmed and painful. I don't know. 

But if he is appearing to me from the afterlife. . . why won't he give me clear, straight answers? 

He even said that when his song came on the radio- that was his doing. But the one thing that nags at me a little is the band-aid on my knee, from when I fell off his motorcycle. . . in the dream. The dream. Last time I checked, whatever happens in dreams do not transfer to the real world. This one still really makes my head spin. 

I do enjoy his presence - it bewilders and excites me. 

But it still does leave me with the question. . .

Elvis why are you helping me? How do you know me?  Why and how do you know all these details about me?

Till next time journal. I do hope next time I'll have more answers. 

Nova. 

next

Yours Truly - Chapter 11: If I Whisper

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 7.5k (sorry!)

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. very angsty, but a lot of fluff too. But mostly angst.

chapter index | prev | chapter 12

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"That guy with tears in his eyes and ghosts in his heart. He loved her, and you could see it." - Jamie Tworkowski 

--

NOVA

Our footsteps brushed against the sidewalk, effectively resounding into the quietness of the desolate street. Boutiques, stores, and diners all wore the similar 'WE ARE CLOSED' sign on their doors. Unattended vehicles were fairly scattered, sitting empty along the curb. The night sky was void of the earlier presence of the sun, and in its place was the glow of the moon accompanied by the blanket of what I could only guess was an infinite of stars. To aid in fighting the inevitable darkness of nature,  street lamps echoed circular bursts of light. One of which reflected perfectly on the man beside me, and I find myself gasping quietly. The blend of the natural and the artificial forms of light elevated his appearance. It may seem cliche to think, but I truly cannot believe how unreal he looks. 

No wonder all those people have emphasised how even more gorgeous he was in real life, and how photos simply did not do him justice. I understand the chaos now, a chaos with reason. It makes me want to snap a photo of him, a way to mark a moment forever before it slips through my fingers like leaves in the wind. Not only because of his outer beauty, but this odd setting he is in. Someone such as himself, you see him in many photos always surrounded by a mass crowd of people. Always. Even in photos when it's only him alone - no, this is different. The Elvis that I see beside me is in such an open space, walking freely  and it's so quiet, so unusual, so human. 

But snapping a photo only holds possible in the real world, not in the dream world. 

I attempt to shake myself out of my reverie, but it seems as if he has caught me and not even a second later, his lips quirk up into a smirk as he fully faces me now. 

"Doll?" He says, a petname that so effortlessly rolls off his tongue, and my mind openly welcomes. 

"I-I'm sorry. . .  what were you saying?" I sputter out, hardly saving myself from his inevitable teasing response that I know he is bound to say.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "Am I boring you already, honey?" He teases. 

In previous encounters with him, I would be apologising right away. But now I know him slightly better, I have become accustomed with Elvis' playful attitude. A direct contrast from the seriousness that I wear all the time. 

I choose to play along and frantically nod, "Oh no, you've caught me, Aaron." I say, purposely dramatising my tone. 

Elvis draws out a long, exaggerated sigh, "I guess I'll call a taxi and we say our farewells, Katerina."  He looks down, giving the performance of a lifetime. 

"Such a shame, the dance moves at the reception was a showstopper." I mused. 

He slowly lifts his head back up and gazes at me, those deep blue eyes never failing to make me loose my balance just the slightest bit. He mirrors the smile spreading across my lips and shakes his head again, an unmistakable shade of red coloring his face. I couldn't help myself, and laughter escapes me inevitably.

Elvis groans, as he closes his eyes in embarrassment, "Aw, hell. Don't remind me!"

"Why not? You looked so cute." 

As per any wedding reception, there is always the part where everyone stands up and go to the dance floor. Surprisingly, when others ushered Elvis to dance, I saw that hesitation in him and how quickly he declined the offer. Well, he couldn't entirely escape it and found himself joining in after all, but his body was almost awkward. I did find myself laughing at how adorable he looked, as he seemed to be mumbling something to himself the entire time - probably disbelief in himself that he is in that situation. 

He opens his eyes and gazes me for a second, and not long after releasing a laughter of his own. 

"I'm glad that you find joy in my misery," He says, the lightness in his tone proving that he is only joking. 

I shake my head with an involuntarily smile pulling on my lips, "Your words, not mine." I throw many hands up in defence. Although it is only lighthearted joking around, I cannot help but recall his initial reaction when I brought it up. I don't want to loose myself in another train of thoughts, another one in which that I know he'll surely snap me out of. I seem to always find myself zoning out, and I've done it an embarrassing number of times already - I don't want him to think that I'm not paying attention to him. Zoning out and being too in my head, it's such a bad habit of mine, one that I know I'll definitely need to break. 

So, I let my curiosity slip out my brain and into our topic of conversation.

"No, but really. I just didn't expect to see you like that at all." I admit, attempting to phrase my words out in a clear way, slightly hoping that he catches what I'm trying to say. 

Elvis tilts his head and glances briefly at me, "Like what, doll?" His voice purely confused at my words. 

"So hesitant to dance. I mean, from the videos I've seen of you performing. . . you always looked so confident and in your element. " I explain further, noticing myself use my hands to emphasise my words. Another habit of mine - I tend to talk with my hands, as if I'm in a theatrical piece, whereby every bit of dialogue involves gestures.

He sighs and for a moment I regret my words, but a small, shy smile appears on his face which eases my worries. 

"When I'm on stage as Elvis Presley, my body can feel the music and just move. B-But me just as me, getting up to dance . . . I-It ain't easy." He shakes his head, his words slow and a slight stutter that I've never heard before from him. His azure eyes look into me, as if silently searching for assurance that I'm listening, as if there is a time limit hanging above my head indicating my patience. A patience that I truly know is insurmountable when it comes to him. It's the veins of curiosity that twists itself so easily around the human nature of: yes, I am listening, and I want to hear more about you. Please keep talking. 

To my relief, he continues. 

"I-I was a pretty shy kid. . . never sang in front of an audience, or anyone before that day I decided to. Never the popular one in school." His forehead knots, and I can almost see his brain reaching through the files of memories past. I don't fail to notice that for each word that he utters out of his mouth, his eyes would flicker briefly to my face and then he would continue. 

I find myself gaping in disbelief as his confession, "Shy?" 

He nods and chuckles, as he scratches the nape of his neck. 

"That hard to believe, huh?" He says. 

I nod, "Honestly, yeah. At first glance of your performances, no one would think that you are a shy. How did you break out of your shell?"

"I did for my mama. She believe in my singing and I always believed her. I took my best shot with it, and found it helped with getting my family out of poverty. It was all for them." He says, his voice quieter now, a softer tone. A tone that was such a shift from the confident and playful man that shows himself to me these past few encounters. Instead, with Elvis' eyes casted off into a distance, his tone is a glimpse of that little boy who wanted to help his family. The little boy who found a passion in music. The little boy who dreamed. 

A pinch into my heart was evident. So selfless to take on such a huge responsibility at such a young age, and by his choice as well. He has always been a kind soul, and I'm grateful that the movie explored the humanity of him. . . but I wished they explored more of this. 

"I'm happy you took the step. Your voice. . . the world deserved to hear it, and I'm glad that in exchange, you've got to help your family have a better life." I say, and refrain myself from saying but you also deserved to live longer. 

Elvis faces me now, and I realise that we've stopped walking. We stand still, facing each other and the light from the street lamp reflects on his features so perfectly. His high cheekbones so prominent, along with the sharp jawline.  The Elvis before me is his appearance from the late '60s I would say. It's strange, in each dream that I have, he is there. But it's always different versions of him. So far, it's been mostly '50s Elvis and now lately, it's been '60s Elvis. But then again, why would I question this when the entire situation is even more of a question mark itself.  

Elvis smiles, "Yeah, It made me real happy to do that for them. Thank you for listening, Nova." He says softly, sincerity echoes through his face. Both of his hands reach out and clasped into mine. I smile at him, as I find myself gently squeezing his hands in reassurance. 

A strong gust of wind fills the surroundings, its effect not going unnoticed by my bare arms. I shiver instinctively. Elvis quickly notices this, and takes his suit jacket off without a moment's hesitation, carefully draping it around my shoulders. I loop my arms into the sleeves, although it probably looks a little big on me.I feel my cheeks heat up at his close proximity, the scent of his cologne evade my senses strongly. 

"Thanks." I manage to say, in a quiet voice. 

"What kind of guy would I be if I let my girl freeze in this cold?" He grinned. 

My girl. 

I hear a distant sound of chimming and it happens again. I furrow my eyebrows, racking my brain to decipher what that could be. I look around our surroundings quizzically. 

I know now. It's almost like a sound of a clock chime. 

"Did you hear that?" I ask him. 

Elvis' eyes widen slightly in what I can understand must be him thinking if there is any danger lurking by. He clears his throat and takes my right hand in his left, tucking both of our hands into his pocket. His body faces forward, the way it was when we were walking. 

"I-It's getting colder, let's go." He simply says, his eyes removed from my gaze. 

Before I could say anything else, he is hurried in his walking as he tugs me along with him. 

"It sounded like a clock chime," I say, as his walk picks up in speed and turns into a run. I try to keep up with him, his hand tightly holding onto mine. 

I'm unsure if he heard me. 

--

It seems I have been proven wrong. Every other building on the street is closed, except for one. It just happens to be Miss Esther's cafe. It doesn't go unnoticed by me that there is no one else in the cafe, and why would there be really? it seems so late into the night, which does beg the question on why keep a cafe open at this hour? Such an odd thing my brain is creating for this dream. 

Well, no one but Miss Esther herself who welcomed us with open arms. Literally. The friendly lady was quick on her feet to draw us both in a tight hug, and an enthusiastic smile upon seeing us both again. We both order hot cups of coffee, which brings us to the moment that we are right now. Elvis and I sat at a table right in the corner, which is safe to say the best choice as the warmth of the place quickly dissipated the cold temperatures of the outside. Unlike the previous time, the lights of the cafe were dimmed - a true indication that it is in fact the night hours. 

"Thank goodness for this place, it got so cold so quickly." I say, as I take a sip from the mug of the hot beverage in my hands. It's taste and warmth, perfectly melting into my throat. 

Elvis nods, "I second that."

Elvis places his coffee mug down and leans forward, "Another one crossed off your list? How are you feeling, baby?" He grins, that familiar southern drawl in his voice. 

baby. 

To save myself from dwelling on his close proximity, I attempt to subtly lean back against my chair to answer his question. Although the crashing of the wedding reception happened in my previous dream, it still astounds me to no end that I truly did that. At the start of this dream, I found myself walking with Elvis. Both of us still wearing the attire that we wore for the wedding reception. After waking up from the previous dream, my mind cannot help but replay how even in the crowded room full of people at the reception, his attention was on me and he kept asking me if I was okay. Yes, he pushes me to be braver, to try the unknown. But at the same time, he knows how set I am in my ways and reads me so well - easily seeing if I'm overwhelmed or not. 

"It said 'party' on my list. Not wedding." I smile playfully, "But either way, it was something I've never done before. It was fun. . . surprisingly." 

"See? It ain't so bad to cross the lines sometimes, Katerina." He muses, grinning at me. 

There he goes again with my middle name. 

"That's true. But I won't be crashing another wedding in the future." I chuckle with a shake of my head, as I prop my elbow on the table with my chin resting on my hand. 

"Fair enough, honey. Some things in life, you only need to do once. Just to make you feel. . . a little crazy. We all need that feeling sometimes." His voice is quieter now, almost to the level of a whisper, as he smiles at me. 

"Thank you for helping me." I say, almost feeling the words hard to get out of my mouth. It's strange, whenever he is so close to me and his voice is that gentle and quiet. It's so attentive and  I feel that he is looking through me, like a pristinely transparent glass. As if to silently say with his eyes: Of course, I'm listening to you too.

He takes my left hand and plants a kiss on the top, all the while maintaining his piercing eye contact with me. 

"I'll find a way. Always." 

Such a small sentence, not even ten words and yet, my brain desperately clutches onto his words. A brief string of words that feel like they are spinning around in a carousel in my mind, and ultimately melting into the depths of my heart. And I guess, for once in my life, I have a feeling that the latter wins the key of keeping it close. 

"Tell me something. . ." I begin after a while of silence. 

He nods. Elvis absentmindedly draws invisible circles around the palm of my left hand, which does tickle a little, and soothes me at the same time. 

"How do you know my middle name? It left me speechless when you dropped that out of nowhere." I chuckle. 

There is a twinkle in his eye as he chuckles, "Lucky guess." 

I roll my eyes as I shoot him a smile, "Of course. No one calls me by my middle name." 

"Did you know that my middle name is Aaron?" He asks, clearly rhetorically. 

"Yes. But that's not the same thing." I lean back against the chair again, feeling a little tired. But nonetheless, wanting to keep talking to him. 

"How is it not?" He muses, clearly enjoying this. 

"Everyone knows you. Well, knows your name." 

He ignores my response and simply says, "Katerina is a very sexy name, I'll say." 

Never have I ever heard my name pronounced like. . . that before. He said it a few times now, but this time, I feel he intentionally says it in such a. . .  certain way. The way that my name rolls of his tongue in such a way - it makes my cheeks heat up involuntarily. 

I clear my throat and try to avoid his eyes, "Thanks. Aaron is a cool name too."

He laughs at my flustered expression, clapping his hands. 

"Oh my, I hear a lot of laughter. I do hope that he is not annoying you, sweet Nova." Miss Esther appears, walking closer to us with her hands on her hips. 

"I haven't done nothing wrong, Ma'am. " Elvis shakes his head, joking along. 

Miss Esther narrows her eyes at him, but with a smile on her face, "Hmm. You better not do. I need your help, I can't seem to reach the box from the highest shelf in the kitchen. " She explains.

Elvis doesn't hesitate to stand up, "Okay." 

Miss Esther smiles and pats him on the shoulder, "Thank you, sweetheart. " 

Elvis turns back to me, "Honey, will you be alright here while I go help Miss Esther?" 

I nod, "I'll be fine, go." 

"Besides, you'll be doing all the work whilst I take a seat right here and hang out with Nova." Miss Esther chuckles at him, easily taking the seat across from me. 

"Alright, no bad tales about me Miss Esther." He jokes, and I feel that he wanted to say something more but he stops himself. Instead, he confirms to Miss Esther about which box it is, and makes his way into the kitchen. 

"It's nice to see hear him laugh and smile, dear." She says. 

"Yeah, he loves to joke a lot and teases me all the time. He's a complete contrast to how I am." I shake my head, chuckling.

"I'm afraid I haven't been clear with my words," Miss Esther replies, smiling apologetically at me. 

I tilt my head, "What do you mean, Miss Esther?"

She sighs,"Elvis is a nice boy. But from the moment I met him, the boy was anything but a jokester. Determined, yes. But very down. It made me worry an awful lot from time to time." 

Of course, from my knowledge from the movie, Elvis' life was filled with it's fair share of trails tribulations - but I thought that coming into the afterlife, a sense of peace would replace such a heartbreaking emotion. Well, that is if he is from the afterlife. If my theory is correct, then Elvis is from the afterlife and is visiting my dreams. This is the only plausible explanation. . . right?

"Down?" 

Miss Esther nods in confirmation, "Very. But ever since. . . you. . .  I have never seen him so much as frown no longer. It's a good change. You are good together. " Her voice is warm and sincere, a bright smile on her face. 

I offer her a kind smile back.

A thought enters my mind. Should I or should I not?

"Miss Esther, can I ask you something?" 

She nods, "Yes, of course."

"When we first met you told me something. You told me that Elvis was looking for me, and you thought that he told me about that. But he's difficult with answering questions. So secretive. I. .  I guess I just want to know what you meant by that?" I find myself lowering my voice, fiddling my  fingers nervously. 

I see a flash of hesitation in her eyes and she sighs deeply, "I'm afraid I can't help you with that, sweetheart. I'm sorry. My answers will not offer you anything helpful."

"Please, just anything." I plead, "I-I've been having these dreams back to back, every night. They continue on one after the other and I just want to know why."

She sighs,"Sometimes good things are not as simple. It is not the simple case of why and how, but trust me answers will come to you when the time is right. Okay?" She says, putting a delicate finger underneath my chin as she smiles. 

I feel defeated by her response, but I can feel that she is genuine with her words. 

Instead, I sigh and whisper back, "Okay."

Before any further conversation can continue, Elvis returns and tells Miss Esther that the box is now on the kitchen counter. He inquires on what our topic of conversation was, in which Miss Esther replies that we've been talking about her secret recipes. I am grateful that she didn't reveal our true conversation to Elvis. But her words will ring a little longer in my brain. She is essentially saying to just go with the flow of things. But the rational part of my being is desperately screaming out against such a relaxed perspective. I've never been rollerblading toward letting happenstance being what it is. There is always a reason for everything that happens, and if it can be helped - I'd like to know that reason. But I suppose this time around, life is closing its doors to my logical tendencies and throwing the key away. 

My eyes cannot help but glance at the black and white photographs of Hollywood actors, presumably from the '50s and '60s, adorning one wall of the cafe. A few I can easily recognised and others not so much. 

"I like what they did with the wall." I comment. 

Elvis smiles, "I do too. The best of the best on there."

"Who's your favorite?" I asked, nodding to the wall of photographs. 

I have a sense that I know his answer before he says it, well, in the movie Elvis mentions his admiration for James Dean a few times and how he wished to be as great as him in acting.

His eyes wander around and stay fixated to a photograph of James Dean, "A real great actor. It's shame he died so young. " Elvis shakes his head, "I remember starting out in Hollywood, wishing and hoping that I'd become a serious actor like him. I wanted to do good movies that told a really good story. Script after script, I-I knew then that my hope was impossible. I fell sick, mentally and violently ill from all that. . ." He looks at me now, shaking his head and blue eyes watery now. 

I frown, "Oh, Elvis." 

"Thirty-one movies later and I knew that this folks in town laughed at me. 'Course I knew. I-I just wanted to make one good picture I could be proud of, before I went." His words breathe harder into the air now, as he closes his eyes shut and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

It pains me to see that even now, those wounds still remain fresh to him. A whole decade of his life was dedicated to movies. It's such a shame that people did not see his passion, that did not help him reach his potential. It's that battle with creativity, a hunger to express himself and others around him did not see him like that. They made their decisions about him before they even knew him. It's a treacherous feeling that seeps into me, and I find myself biting down on my lip - feeling like tears might escape me. 

He opens his eyes and chuckles bitterly, "I was a joke." 

I find myself leaning forward and taking his hand into mine, "Hey, don't be saying that about yourself. I'm sorry that you didn't get what you deserve because you deserved so much more, Elvis. You had so much more to offer to the table and I wished people saw that. . . saw you."

He is silent for a moment and takes a deep breath, "Thank you, Nova. It matters a whole lot that you see me."

A smile slowly pulls on his lips as I smile at him, hoping to lift up the mood. 

"Why don't you ask me?" I say, arching a teasing eyebrow. 

"Ask about what?" He looks at me confused.

"Who my favorite actor is?" I muse. 

Elvis chuckles suddenly, as if I just dropped an inside joke.

"I don't need to, doll. I have a feeling that I already know." He smirks, confidence oozing from him. 

"Fine, go on then." I entertain his confidence.

"Grace Kelly." He replies casually, not a hint of doubt in his voice. 

I gasped in shock, "How'd you know that?" 

Another one of the many things that he knows about me. I should not be surprised anymore at this point, but I can't help but be every time he so casually slips information about me. Information that is so personal, that only my family and closest friends would know about. But I guess in dreams anything is possible, no matter how cliche it may sound. But then again, if he is visiting from the afterlife, then that means he is real which then furthers the question on how he knows all of this about me? 

Elvis casually shrugged with a smirk, "Lucky guess, honey." 

"Uh-huh, sure." I say, obviously unconvinced. 

Elvis is about to say something more, but he stops himself. He turns around and looks out the wide glass window of the cafe. I follow his gaze and it seems to the that the cold temperatures have now been accompanied by heavy showers. Droplets of water cascade rapidly down the glass, it's sound unmistakable. The clouds above seem to be releasing an increase of the torrent rain, as the violent downpour continues on - until you could quite literally hear it hitting the roof of the cafe. 

"Come on, let's go." Elvis says, turning back to me as he stands up. 

I find myself standing up, "Go where?" I ask, quite a rhetorical question I believe. 

Elvis only shoots me a mischievous grin, confirming my suspicion. 

My eyes go wide as I attempt to tug myself out of his hold, "Oh no. Nope. "

"Why not?"

I gestured at the outside, "Are you seriously asking me that? It's horrific." 

"It won't last long." 

"What if I get sick?" I reason out, panicking now. 

But of course my rational nature does not pair up with his way of spontaneity, "Then I guess I'll have to take of ya. You know, Dr. Presley." He winks. 

"Elvis, I'm seriou-"

"Remember your list?" He tries again, he takes off his suit jacket from around my shoulders and places it neatly on the table. 

And this time, I cannot counter back because I know he's right. I stupidly wrote on my list that I wanted to experience what it was like to just go crazy and have fun in the pouring rain. Like the ones you see in the movies, those cliche scenes. 

I sigh and finally nod, he grins in triumph and tugs me along with him as we rapidly run out of the cafe. The moment we step foot outside, the strong rainfall hits my bare arms and I see Elvis turn around to face me and lets go of my hand. He closes his eyes shut and spreads his arms wide, the rapid precipitation hitting his entire being and he looks perfectly blissful. His yellow button-up gets stuck to his tanned skin in a matter of seconds, and I look down to find my dress heavily sticking to my skin too. 

Elvis laughs out loud, his laugh encompassing the entire empty street.

"Ain't it incredible? Come here, darlin." He walks forward and grabs hold of my hand. 

"This is crazy!" I exclaim, but find my lips spreading into a huge smile. 

He suddenly grabs hold of my waist and spins me around, with him standing right behind me. I feel my chest thumping rapidly, and he levels his head close to mine - his lips almost touching my ear. I can feel his breath tickling my skin, as he whisper, "Don't think, Nova. Let yourself go." 

In dreams, anything can change in a split second. Who knows, this torrential rain might stop all of the sudden within the next few seconds. Nova, you promise to let yourself live. To just be. Stay true to that. And so with a deep breath and close my eyes, I find myself turning around out of his grasped and my legs run rapidly. I only run within the small space, and the water hits my face as I find myself spinning all of a sudden. Like a poorly, non-choreographed ballet recital. But I know that this is not a stage, this is just a dream. In this dream - no one else is here but me and him. No one else is watching. It's only me, him and the pouring rain. I find myself laughing and about nothing really, nothing in particular. But it's such an. . . elevated feeling. To laugh just because. With no particular reason to. 

It feels oddly. . . liberating. 

I try to open my eyes and see him right in front of me with the familiar grin on his lips, and he takes my hand this time - twilling me around before his right hand plants itself on my waist, and his left holds up mine. I naturally place my other hand on his shoulder. He takes another step forward, our noses almost touching, "Dance with me," He says, almost breathlessly. 

I am amused at his question, "Oh, really? I thought you didn't dance unless you were on stage." 

"I didn't. But I know that I am me right now. I'm me when I'm with you." He says softly. 

And my mind flickers back to our conversation earlier about how he hesitates to dance when he is not 'The Elvis Presley' because of embarrassment, but he is willing to dance with me. He's letting go. Just like me. For the brief moment of not thinking. 

"Okay." I respond, gladly accepting his request.

And so, we began to dance together. There was certainly no music, but that did not stop us to fall within each other's movements. I picture it like a normal dance of the waltz, expect this is anything but the appropriate setting and it's full of imperfect steps. But I pay no mind to that. Our feet shuffled in sync as we danced in a slow pace, as he spun in me in circles. But the downpour grew stronger, and with that, our dance quickened in its paced. His grip was firm on my hand, as well as on my waist. We both laughed at our imperfect version of the waltz.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, after a while of dancing. 

I nod. 

He then lifts me up slowly and I laugh, he sets me back down again. I find myself naturally looping my arms around his neck. Both of his hand are now on my waist, and I feel a little warm all of a sudden despite the cold temperatures. He pulls me closer to his body, and his height towers me a little. I take my time to study him in this happenstance. His dark hair sticks to his forehead now, droplets falling from strands. His eyes, piercing as ever and the grin on his lips releasing a melodic laugh. He is beautiful and it's suddenly hard to catch my breath. 

"I guess the rain is not stopping, I look like a mess." I shake my head, suddenly embarrassed on what I may look like. I know my hair is soaked and no doubt, there is no more makeup on my face. 

Elvis raises his hand, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"I doubt it." 

"I don't think so. A drowned rat might be a bette-" I attempt to joke. 

He cuts me off, "You are the most beautiful person I know." 

I narrow my eyes at him, "Really? I bet you tell all girls that."

"This is the only time I mean what I say." He explains, and I try to wait for him to break out into a chuckle to say he is joking. But nothing like that. Elvis presses his forehead against mine, and I breathe deeply.  Never in my life have I felt my heart thump so rapidly against my chest. I have felt all emotions most of my life: excitement and nervousness and anxiety. All of which result in my heart beating in an insane speed, as if it's about to leap out from my body. But this type of racing I feel cannot be categorised like those. The type of beating feels like it's running down to other parts of my being. It's an overwhelming feeling, a type of energy that feels like it's slipping through my hands and holding my face, and weakening my knees. It's fast and almost a slight pain. A feeling that drives me speechless and makes me welcome the rope of curiosity. 

Is this the feeling of just doing and not doing? The feeling of letting things flow? Of being. . . free from my mind?

"I-I feel my heart beating wildly," I admit to him, almost breathless. 

"That means it's working." Elvis smiles. 

"What is?"

"To be unexpected. To run into the unknown. That is how I want you to feel all the time." He emphasises, and he is so close to me. So incredibly close. 

"Thank you." 

Silence hits us again, the only sound is the rain around us. Rainfall that seems to have slowed down, but evidence of puddles created. 

I see his eyes flicker to my lips, as we both just look at each other. And you know how people say that if two people truly know each other, words won't be necessary at all. That sometimes, a single look is enough to convey a message. The eyes can often reflect the words unspoken. Or so I've been told by my grandmother. 

Elvis begins to lean in and I am not clueless, but to my surprise he leaves a brief kiss on the side on the very corner of my lips. Close, but not directly. It lingers there for a while, leading to blush creep into my cheeks. 

"You've been asking me questions, let's reverse the roles." He begins, in which I quirk an eyebrow at him. 

"You've seen both sides of me. Who do you see right now?" He asks, voice so soft and gentle. 

I know what he is asking. Earlier in our conversation, he revealed that the Elvis Presley on stage differs greatly from the actual person offstage. I cannot even imagine feeling almost like you are switching between two identities, two personas, two parts of you. But the other part seeming to encompass and overshadow the human being. I know that Elvis loves performing, and you can hear and see it in numerous videos. There is something so hypnotising and magnetic about seeing him in his element. But I have a feeling that it felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders at one point, as they said before, the brighter the light the darker the shadow. 

The one that is before me right now, I see him simply as. . . Elvis. 

"You. I see you." I say, and I know that he understands my words. 

Elvis smiles in relief and he begins to say something. 

"I-"

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

A buzzing sound screeches through my ears, rapidly leaving me no choice but to open my eyes. I scan my surroundings, and sigh in disappointment that I am in fact in my bedroom. Beams of sunlight pass through my bedroom window, signifying that morning is here. The buzzing sound continues, and I slam the alarm clock situated on my bedside table in annoyance. I hold my hand to my heart, frantically calming my heart. 

No. I can't be here right now. 

No. Not when I didn't hear what he had to say. 

But this is the reality. The reality of the vehicles outside on the streets and people chattering - not an empty and quiet street. The reality of favourable, warm weather seeping into my bedroom - not the gloomy, wet weather that I found myself enjoying and dancing in. The reality that here I am, alone, and there is no smiling raven-haired man beside me. 

There is a knock on my door. 

"Come in." 

"Good morning, my bestie!" Luke cheerfully greets me, all in what seems to be workout clothes. 

"Morning," I say, in contrast to his bright mood. 

"Listen, I know I'm no Beyonce, but at least be happy to see your best friend." He jokes, taking a drink out of the water bottle in his hand. 

"Sorry, I just don't feel like leaving my bed today." 

Which is not exactly a lie, just a half truth. 

"How the earth has shifted." He gasps dramatically, "Look at me now going for my second lap around the neighbourhood, and THEE Nova Katerina Sinclair slapping productivity in the face?" 

Katerina. Katerina is a very sexy name, I'll say. His voice echoes in my head.

I roll my eyes and playfully throw a pillow at Luke, "Oh, Shut up."

"Well, I'll leave you to role-play sleeping beauty for a day, while I go act like I have my life together." Luke says, exiting my room. 

"See you later!"

"Hey Google how do. . . " I hear him ask his phone, as his voice trails off into the distance. 

Wait. 

Why didn't I think of that before? 

I grab my phone from the bedside table and quickly type in my question onto the famous search engine. 

IS IT POSSIBLE TO RESUME A DREAM WHERE YOU PREVIOUSLY LEFT OFF?

-  Dreams can be so realistic that it can be hard to tell if we're awake or asleep. And sometimes, we wake up in the middle of a dream and wonder if it's possible to go back to sleep and pick up where we left off. It is possible to resume a dream, but it requires a certain focus and concentration. 

Hmm. . . not exactly what I'm looking for. Let me try again.

IS IT NORMAL TO REMEMBER A DREAM VERY VIVIDLY?

- It is widely common that 99.9% of us cannot remember our dreams the moment we wake up. However, scientists have concluded that there is a percentage of us that do remember our dreams. The few individuals that do (an estimated 2%) remember a maximum of two dreams a week. However, reportedly, only significant parts of their dreams are memorable and others fade along as dreams normally do. 

Shit. I'm way past that maximum of two dreams. 

WHY AM I AWARE WHEN I AM DREAMING? 

- This phenomenon has been classified as 'Lucid Dreaming.' This is whereby an individual becomes aware that they are in the dream world. The events that happen in their brain are merely figment of imaginations. The individual is aware of this the entire time they are in slumber. It is also important to note that some individuals who lucid dream, are able to control the events that unfold before them in the dream. 

Okay. This sounds half right. Every time that Elvis has been in my dream I have been extremely aware that none of it is real. But to control my dreams? That one I can't relate to. 

WHY DOES A CELEBRITY KEEP APPEARING IN MY DREAMS?

- Celebrities in dreams are not unusual. In fact, researchers evidenced that the appearance of a famous figure often indicates something the individual longs for. Some believe it's a human's soul craving for something they have not yet realised themselves. 

What does that even mean?

WHY DOES ONE PERSON CONSTANTLY APPEAR IN MY DREAMS?

-  Dreaming of a specific someone (friend, relative, ex) is your brains way of saying that you need to accept something related to that person. Maybe a misunderstanding or something they did that did not sit right with you. 

Ugh. This one is not very helpful, how does that even happen when I don't and have never known Elvis Presley personally? 

I continue to scroll down the page and click on an article. 

- Dreaming about the same person constantly can mean a multitude of things. 

1. Firstly, it may relate to unresolved issue. 

2. Your subconscious may be sending you a warning sign. 

3. You're trying to manifest something in real life. 

4. You feel guilty for a reason you can't explain. 

5. There's an energy imbalance between you. 

I sigh in defeat and close my phone. None of those listed make any sense. So much for Google having the answer to everything. But let's get some facts straight, from the very few I found relevant in my search: Remembering dreams is uncommon, but if you do, you only remember up to 2 dreams a week. I've dreamed of him six times already. Lucid dreaming is when you become aware that you are dreaming and whatever is happening is not real, okay so that is definitely relatable. When a celebrity keeps appearing in your dreams it means your soul is trying to tell you something. . .  but what could that possibly be? And lastly, the article - none of it seems relevant. 

Who do I even turn to for answers? Or even someone to just talk to about what's happening to me? There's no way I can tell Charlotte or Luke, they'll be worried. Even more of a no towards my parents. 

I shot of realisation hits me then and there. I get up and open my wardrobe, frantically finding the purse gifted to me years ago. A purse I used to use so often when I was a kid, the Disney characters perfectly stitched onto it. I open it and my hand grasped the small piece of paper, I dig it out of the purse and sit back down on my bed. 

I grab my phone and dial the number scribbled onto the paper, and patiently wait as the phone rings. 

"Hello, who am I speaking to?" Her voice travels through, and a smile pulls on my lips. 

"Great-Aunt Odette, hi. It's me, Nova." I reply, nervously fiddling with my fingers. 

"Oh, hello Nova!  Is everything alright? What made you call?" Her tone quickly concerned. 

"I'm fine, there's nothing wrong. I, just um. . .  well it's better if I see you. Is it ok if I visit?" 

She chuckles, "You don't even have to ask, dear. When?"

I took a deep breath, "Today." 

chapter 12

So this was kinda a flop lol. Reblogging this to see if it has more of a chance this time around *fingers crossed* 🥺

✰ Title: Yours Truly

✰ Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

✰ Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

✰ Status: ongoing

✰ Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

✰ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. Nothing much to warn about tbh, perhaps the occasional curse word every now and then. I do warn that the mystery in this is the central theme, so beware that you will become frustrated and confused 😂 um . . . what else? I suppose that's it. Oh, and a lot of angst eventually - so prepare your box of tissues for crying.

@literally-just-elvis-fics

Yours Truly| INDEX

A note from me to you- before we begin

Playlist

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter 1: Make a Wish

Chapter 2: Mystery Train

Chapter 3: Hold My Hand

Chapter 4: How Do You Know?

Chapter 5: Questions, Questions, Questions

Chapter 6: The List

Journal entry no. 1

Chapter 7: Bird's Eye View

Chapter 8: The Great Gatsby

Chapter 9: So, this is Graceland?

Chapter 10: Girlfriend?

Journal entry no. 2

Chapter 11: If I Whisper

Chapter 12: A Curious Case

The Five Love Languages - dangerouslysoft - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Please read warnings, explicit sexual content abounds!

Do I write this so that Order 66 happens or doesn't happen? 🤮🤮🤮

Do I write both versions? 🤕🤕🤕

Do I let Sky and Atom save the day? 😎😎😎

In the words of Obi-Wan;

"Possibly..."

Also I had a thought....if Samson never died....he would've fallen in love with Isra and she would've reciprocated. 😍😍😍💕💕💕💔💔💔

If you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, go read my story. 😁😁😁

Also sticking with the canon timeline is driving me up a wall. I keep forgetting the episodes aren't in chronological order... Oops. Why you do that Dave Filoni? 🙃🙃🙃

Life is kicking my ass at the moment and I'm minimally productive... I apologize. I'm re-writing some pieces of some chapters first... Then I'll continue on with the story. 👎👎👎👍👍👍

Thank. Have a nice day 😚😚😚🌸🌸🌸

I especially like this doodle of yours. 🥹♡ The pose and the atmosphere look very gentle and loving. It looks so light and liberating, which suits the two of them very well. You've captured the moment beautifully. 🤍🌸

Always safe with you.

...Another quick doodle ✨️

En Español: Aquí

I present to you Valeria Alba Ramírez Bravo, a 32-year-old woman who lives in the Interstellar Era a thousand years in the future, who works as a humble teacher and lives her day to day as if it were Monday.

I was playing without knowing what to draw and between strokes I created her. I really liked how her design turned out and I was also inspired to give her a little story.

At the moment I only have some basic data, but maybe it will extend the universe of it.

I hope you like it and happy weekend (ouo)/

A post-canon fix-it au for Daenerys Targaryen with an original female character dedicated to @deetoxicity.

Couple’s Therapy -

Author: afuckingbitch

Summary: Love story, Therapy for couples go universal to see if their relationships are worth saving.

Warning: Foul language and Violence ahead, don’t like it, keep it fucking moving then.

(Pictures and GIFS are not affiliated with the story, only used for representation purposes)

Prologue

yay! Wonderful! I have many feelings on this and they are all obsessed.

Will him realizing the binding was a bad thing for her actually make him feel guilt? Or is he just obsessed about her and doesn’t care about her feelings/well being as long as she exists and is by his side? In coming to terms with his grievous error, will he get some character development and try to undo or make the situation better for her by way of more black magic?

I really enjoy your writing and was wondering would you do a scenario wlreader get kidnapped it could be the timeliness of before it all or it could be a timeline completely on his own.

Before It All - Human Alastor Headcanons (Pt. 1)

Before It All

--------------------------------

You may have tried to shoo Alastor away from the spot where he had set up the ritual to summon you, but he came back only thirty minutes after you did so, hoping you were gone by that point to kill his father and that so you didn’t see what he had planned.

It was brief, but the warmth of your hug was… well, he wasn’t even sure how to explain it. He wanted more, more, more and for much, much longer than just a few seconds. It relieved him of a chill that he never really paid much attention to until that very day he met you.

So, Alastor made sure to pick up every single item that he used in the summoning ritual and made sure to secure those stray deer hairs that had shed onto his hands when he had petted your ears for future use. 

Even if this whole Hell thing was real, there was no fucking way he was just going to wait until his death to see you again.

No – he would make it happen much, much sooner than that.

–

The book of old magicks, strange symbols and sigils, and a ritual for summoning demons – it's the book that helped Alastor summon you when he was just a clueless adolescent boy, so what could it do if he actually studied up on it? 

Of course, his favourite subjects to learn are voodoo magic and demonology (if only to get a better understanding of you and how to subdue and tame you when he does summon you again.)

Alastor vigilantly studies this book throughout his twenties alongside his murdering of abusive men. Men he has murdered as a sacrifice to you. He will use these worthless souls to bind you to him – surely you'd rather be at his side than burning in Hell, right?

It's when he reaches his thirties that Alastor believes he has enough souls to bind you to him permanently and he recreates the summoning ritual in the exact same spot as when he was fifteen with all of the exact same items with the deer skull being the most important one.

To make absolutely certain he summons you, Alastor also puts those few deer hairs in the summoning circle and just as he did fifteen years prior, he finds himself staring in fascination at a pair of deer ears.

He did it. He summoned you!

You, on the other hand, look stunned and not very happy. In fact, you almost look pained. 

“My nameless Doe! You have no idea how I've longed to–”

“W-what have you done, Alastor?”

Arranged Marriage || Part I || Ivar x Female!OC

Part II

Summary: Freya, the youngest daughter of Earl from far away northern land, is about to marry the youngest son of Ragnar, Ivar the Boneless. At the beginning, they're not content with the circumstances. The situation changes radically when they discover that they're attracted to each other.

Warnings: None.

Words: 3448

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

For almost all Vikings the family was the most important social unit.

Marriage was virtually universal, divorce rare, and virtually every marriage produced children. Almost all marriages were arranged by family elders based on caste, degree of consanguinity, economic status, and many more. Vikings' marriage was essentially a business contract between two families and it was arranged in two stages: the betrothal and the wedding.

The initiative had to come from the man or his father, who would propose marriage to the woman's father or guardian. If the latter was agreeable, the groom promised to pay the bride price which was called mundr.

In return, the bride's father promised to hand over her dowry at the wedding. Both the bride price and the dowry remained the property of the bride after the wedding. The two men shook hands on the agreement in front of witnesses and agreed on a date for the wedding, usually within a year.

The long table in the throne chamber had seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound was contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times.

That day was one of the second options.

"Why have you done this?," Ivar growled, looking directly at queen Aslaug who sat on the opposite side of the table.

Ivar, when he was feeling triggered, didn't care about loving bonds that were becoming inaccessible. In this mode, he had to take great care not to hurt anyone nor to destroy something in his vicinity. Anger, pain, sadness were so intertwined that perhaps their names sought to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of those emotions. His palm curled in a fist smashed against the tabletop. "No one has asked you for any kind of help, mother."

"That's because we all know she would never ask for help," Aslaug sighed deeply, sipping on her beloved wine. "And it's not only about you, Ivar. We planned to place Ubbe in your place because he is the oldest, but since he is so popular among women, there is no point in hurting the girl," she explained and got up to walk closer to him. After cupping his cheek, Aslaug smiled. "You should be glad, love. You will have a wife."

“Like I would need one,” Ivar barked back but placed his palm on top of hers, caressing still smooth skin. “It’s good as it is now, mother. I already have a woman nestled within my heart though.”

Aslaug frowned a little, looking at him. "Who? That thrall? The one that is fucking around like a common whore? I am more than sure she fucked with all three of her brothers, if not with the whole Kattegat."

Ivar let out a loud snort. “It’s you, mother. You’re the most important woman in my life. I don’t need anyone else.”

"One day I will be gone. Someone needs to take care of you once it happens, love," the queen sighed, stroking his cheek.

Ivar got up slowly, looking hard into her eyes. “Just so she would be aware: if any woman appears here, I’ll snap her neck.”

After these words he slowly limped back to his chamber, cursing under his breath at the strong pain within his legs.

Aslaug simply rolled her eyes at Ivar's behaviour.

__________________________________

She bit her lips crossing the gate of Kattegat.

She should be happy! She's going to marry one of Ragnar's sons, it's a great opportunity for her and her family. Yet she was scared and mad. How could someone have decided about her own life and heart?!

So there she was, standing in front of queen Aslaug and her sons while her father told the woman whatever she wanted to know. This was uncomfortable.

Ivar refused to leave his chamber; he still didn’t sign the truce with the idea of his mother. The very last thing he needed or wanted was a random girl lurking through his chambers, wanting nothing but new dresses and demanding attention. And he wanted to raid! With his brothers and father.

The girl went red as her father tried his best to present her in the best way possible. "Queen? If I may... When will I meet my... Future husband? I honestly can't wait," she lied with a perfectly faked smile, looking at the queen's sons. If one of them was going to be her husband, it could be nice.

Aslaug smiled softly and sighed deeply. "Sadly, I have no idea when this will happen. My son decided to be stubborn today."

The girl blinked, shocked.

Hvitserk pushed Ubbe’s side with his elbow, leaning closer to his older brother. “She’s not bad. Looking good, redhead, sweet babyface. Would certainly check what she’s hiding beneath that dress.”

Ubbe couldn’t stop himself from giggling. “You know it’s possible, right? If our brother will be cold towards her, we’re going to warm her bed in the process.”

Suddenly everyone gathered in the throne chamber could hear a steady sound of crutches hitting the wooden floor. Soon, Ivar, all dressed in black, entered the chamber.

She frowned a little looking at the young man.

Of course, she heard about Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple, but she hoped for one of the older boys. Maybe Ubbe, hell, she would even take Bjørn Ironside himself, but the cripple?!

"Queen Aslaug? I was sure we talked about her oldest son," her father said.

"That's true, but the decision changed. It doesn't matter which of my sons she will marry. The arrangement stays the same," the queen replied rather coldly.

"What?! Is this some kind of a joke?!,” the young girl whimpered loudly, getting everyone's attention. "I won't marry a cripple! How am I supposed to have children with him?!”

Ivar stopped for a brief second, listening to her whining. “Here we go then!” He offered her a cold grin. “Believe me,” he said, checking her from the bottom to the top, “If I knew they wanted me to marry such a thrall, I’d have never agreed on that. Just look at her. You look like a beggar. I told you it’s not a good idea, mother,” Ivar walked closer to the queen. “She is here for a few moments and she’s already whining like a drowned kitten.”

"And you aren't better," Sigurd muttered, looking away.

Girl blinked. "A thrall?! How dare she, cripple! I am Earl's daughter. You're not only a cripple, you're also blind."

Aslaug sighed deeply, massaging her temple. "I do not care if she agrees or not, Ivar. You will marry her whether you like it or not," the woman growled slightly, tired of Ivar's behavior. "She will stay here so she two can get to know each other a little. Better be nice.”

“I’ll try to not kill her,” Ivar promised sweetly, at the same moment throwing a cold glance to the girl.

Ubbe stopped his youngest brother by catching his shoulder. “Behave. She’s very pretty and comes from a wealthy family.”

“If you want to have her dick wet with her juices, she can have her, brother,” Ivar snapped back, leaving the Great Hall.

The girl rolled her eyes. You were sure that this relationship would be hard and pointless but she still expected more.

When Ivar was gone, she was left alone since her father wanted to finish everything with the queen and return home.

She decided to take a look around, just to know where she will be living from now on.

After an hour or two she returned to the Great Hall and there she was caught by Ubbe who wanted to talk with her. He was nice, for sure nicer than her soon-to-be husband.

She talked with him for a moment until she noticed Ivar returning to the Great Hall.

“... remember, anytime,” Ubbe smiled at her, winking a little after giving her a piece of advice.

Ivar grunted under his breath; even from a distance, he could see the girl that was supposed to become his wife flirting with his older brother. “Fucking love birds,” he mumbled to himself, slowly limping toward his home.

“Oh, Ivar, there you are!,” Ubbe was the first one to walk closer to his brother. “Where have you been? We got worried.”

“Worried? About who? Your crippled brother? There’s no need to be worried about me, dear brother, I grew bigger balls than hers, and trust me, nobody in their right mind would want to mess with me.”

The girl scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. He was so rude and full of himself that it was simply annoying "Well, somehow there are people who care about her. For some odd reason,” she shrugged.

Ivar frowned, looking at her. “Ubbe, dear brother? Would she be so kind to make this bitch stop barking with that tiny, annoying voice of hers? It irritates my ears.”

Ubbe aimed a blow in the back of Ivar’s head. “Apologise.”

“Who? Her? Never.”

“Apologise,” Ubbe replied. “Or I am going to tell mother and she won’t be impressed.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Sorry but next time do not speak without being allowed.”

"I will speak when I desire to. You won't keep me silent,” she growled back. "The only dog here is you. Trying to walk around and growling, trying to show how scary you are. Just so you know, it doesn't impress me in any way."

Ivar chuckled and looked at her with pity. “As I would care, woman. Better get used to my way of living because our parents are not keen on breaking this ridiculous agreement.” Ivar slowly limped back to the Great Hall, not looking back at her and Ubbe.

She groaned and rubbed her face. "You think Gods will hate me if I throw myself off the cliff or if I drown myself? Gods save me somehow!," She said to Ubbe.

He laughed shortly, darkly. “Don’t be such a pessimist. You need to have faith. Ivar is problematic and very hard to deal with but he has bright sides and deep inside he craves to be loved, with all of his flaws.”

"It doesn't look like it. Ever since he saw me he has called me names,” she sighed deeply. "Maybe I should just return home."

“Give him a chance. You’ll see that he is not that bad. Of course, it will take time to develop any feelings but do not give up on him and the relationship so easily,” he replied.

"It would be easier if he wouldn't act like a mad dog trying to bite right into my throat,” she said softly. "I honestly hoped for one of you to be my husband... But Gods hate me."

__________________________________

One sleepless night was fine, Ivar would rather be dreaming of course, yet this night became one extended moment of ponderance. He embraced it. He felt all the reasons why his soul was so perturbed and asked how he may navigate better. There was yet no response to the questions he had been asking for years.

Ivar felt a very unpleasant tingling within his abdomen; he knew it was caused by his cruelty towards that girl he was supposed to marry soon.

One part of him wanted to search for her and apologise while the other ignored her existence.

Ivar had been torn apart for years. But now his insecurities started escalating.

After rolling all over his bed for some more time, he let out a loud grunt and sat up, looking for the crutches. He realised then that probably one of his thralls moved them aside so they would not fall on the floor, waking him up.

Ivar reached for a black, wool sweatshirt laying at the wooden nightstand and he put it on. After that, he crawled out of his bed and crossed the room to reach the door.

She received her room, which was nice. The whole day she dreamed about a soft bed and some rest, especially after meeting her future husband. He was already so annoying, how was she supposed to spend the rest of her life with him?! Would Gods forgive a murder? Or any other mischievous act that would help her get rid of him quicker? Maybe he could die soon? He was a cripple in the end.

She pushed these thoughts aside and nuzzled to the pillow, covering herself with thick fur. It was time to get some sleep, maybe tomorrow would be better? For sure not, but maybe, so long as she’s got hope, there is always a chance for a better future.

It was hard to fall asleep. When she did fall asleep, she was awake again, it was getting annoying.

At some point, she heard an odd sound and then noticed the door opening.

That was it, her punishment was coming.

It wasn't the punishment though, but it was Ivar himself, crawling into her room. In the first moment, it took her off guard that she almost fell off her bed.

Ivar crawled to her bed, and using his strong arms, he got on it. “Why are you not sleeping?”

"Because someone is crawling into my bed like a snake?” She asked, frowning. "What is it? Did you come here to stab me? Or maybe to strangle me?"

He frowned a little as his hand travelled through his thick hair. “None of these. I came to you because I have rethought my previous outbursts and I have wanted to tell her that I don’t mind you being a girl and speaking your mind but you should rather think twice before you pass judgement.”

The girl listened to him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you don’t mind me being a girl? Oh, thanks Gods because I was scared my soon-to-be husband prefers men," she rolled her eyes.

He cocked his brow, looking at her with pity. “Can you quit being so offended? Believe me, you’re not the only one hurt in this situation.”

Ivar looked at her with his steel-blue eyes. “And if you keep on with being so negative, I can assure you it is not going to work. I like tough girls.”

She blinked surprised by his words. "Me offended? You didn't even come to greet me and once she did, she insulted me, for no reason. I think I have the right to be offended or negative."

“Whatever you say,” Ivar replied and simply reached his hand out to put it to her cheek. “You know, you’re very pretty.”

The girl growled quickly. Honestly, she wanted to bite him in the hand but the kind word surprised her. Smiling a little, she nodded. "Thank you.."

“Would she remind me of her name? I’m afraid that in this entire mess I have lost it somehow.”

"You haven't even heard it once," she reminded him with a smile. "My name is Freya."

Ivar nodded, acknowledging your name. “Suits you very well. You’re the only woman who is more beautiful than the goddess herself.”

She couldn't help but laugh at his words. As nice as they were, it was silly of him to think she was more beautiful than Freya. "Ivar. I wish to be more beautiful than the goddess herself but I am not that beautiful. But…," Freya hummed and gently touched his cheek. "I can honestly say, you are handsome. You have beautiful eyes."

Ivar’s blushing was a kind of flowering, the sort of pink that brings champagne roses to the imagination. The colour-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile and his steel eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. “Þakka,” Ivar replied shortly, his eyes never left hers.

Freya giggled and gently caressed his cheek. "Maybe... Would you like to stay here? Talk a little or just get used to each other?” She suggested with a little shrug.

He considered her offer for a long moment, looking up at the ceiling. He knew he had never been good in conversations, especially with women but since the girl was about to become his wife one day, he decided to agree. “If you don’t mind.”

Freya nodded and moved the thick fur aside, letting him join. Once he did, the girl smiled and wrapped the fur around him.

“Thanks,” Ivar replied, laying down on his back. He tried to avoid her glance so he glared up at the ceiling.

She took a deep breath and got comfortable next to him, also looking at the ceiling. "So... Soon we will spend every night like this. Together."

“Apparently,” Ivar replied quietly.

"I never wanted to do this…,” she said quietly. "My father told me about the wedding on our way here. I wanted to run away."

“I bet it would have been even more awful when you realised your future husband is a cripple. It can be seen, today, that your misgivings were justified,” he raised corners of his lips in a sad grin. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first one. Most people here are either afraid of me or take me for a freak.”

"I... I didn't mean to, Ivar. Just…," Freya sighed and shook her head. "Forgive me. I was just scared and surprised. I was brought here without my consent. You may not care because after the wedding you will probably just take care of your stuff. I will be here alone. I am still scared."

He grunted deeply in acknowledgment. “I have nothing to forgive, it’s natural to be afraid of things we do not know,” Ivar slipped a hand under his head to find a more comfortable position. “I understand your concern. But from the moment you were brought here, you’ve gained some new family members. As I saw, you connected well with Ubbe already,” Ivar added nonchalantly. “Don’t be scared. I am aware I have made a very bad first impression though… And I’m sorry for that. It was not my intention to scare you or treat you the way I did, but just as you, I have my concerns, as well.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Once I was told that a real king treats his woman like a queen, one who makes her a "peasant" is a poor imitation of a man. I certainly want to be the first one.”

"Whoever said it was a very smart person and Ubbe… He is nice but that's all," the girl nodded and looked at him. "What concerns do you have?”

“I tend to let people down, not to mention everyone hates me,” Ivar replied openly but frowned shortly after. “I have no idea why I am even speaking about this. “I’m full of rage, you need to be aware of that though,” the man added quickly. “Never be afraid of the rage that is fire, for my fire burns hot and dies very fast. After such an inferno you will be able to walk over the cold ashes to my side and I will be nothing but cooling water for your soul. Should you ever find my rage cold, a frozen fury that burns. So, my dear Freya, be schooled by the flame so that you never know the torment of the ice…”

Freya watched him while listening to his every word carefully. Was she scared? Maybe a little but she could be difficult sometimes too. So maybe they did have something in common, after all.

The girl slowly moved her hand under the furs and then she took his palm gently.

Her action made him turn his head to face her beautiful face. His eyes glistened with little sparkles of reconciliation.

"Let's... Let's just make it work…," she requested quietly. "It's already set in stone for us by our parents. Even if you will never love me…. Let's try at least...," Freya whispered. "Maybe something will change one day. What do you think?”

The switch from reaction to reflection, to arrive at a good response, was signalled by the deep sigh Ivar let through his parted lips. “The only thing that stands between true love and debacle is our capacities for empathy and creative perspective taking,” Ivar replied. “As long as you want to put all of you in this, I’m going to do the very same. I can't guarantee it'll work though but there’s no way to know for sure without trying, right?”

Freya nodded, squeezing his hands. "I promise to put all of me into this, it's not like I have anything else left."

Ivar nodded slowly. "Good. I think we have a deal."

She couldn't help but giggle. "We do. And let's hope it will work just as we want it to work."

Arranged Marriage || Part II || Ivar x Female!OC

Part I

Summary: Growing closer to each other, Freya and Ivar begin to realize that their parents’ decision about marriage was not as bad as they thought. Ivar tries impossibly hard to appear as unapproachable viking to Freya, but he’s actually very charming, as for her liking. Ivar, however, begins to realize Freya wasn’t merely a whiny woman as he formerly thought. As a result of their marriage, their wedding night is quickly approaching.

Warnings: smut (if you’re a minor, don’t read!)

Words: 13,5k

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

The morning came quickly. Too quickly as for Ivar's liking.

He woke up as the first one and discovered how beautiful and peaceful Freya looked while sleeping.

Ivar couldn't stop himself from reaching his palm to caress her rosy cheek.

After that, he got out of the bed and crawled back to his chamber, to not get caught so easily by her side.

Girl yawned loudly, hugging the fur she used to cover herself with, and growled loudly when she saw an empty spot next to her. He left? How could he leave her all alone?!

Freya growled loudly and then got up to her ready for the day by putting on her best dress, braiding her hair as beautifully as it was only possible and putting just enough makeup on.

Ivar was already present in the throne chamber, dressed in black tunica and black pants, with braces wrapped around his legs. He looked so fresh and happy. As soon as he spotted her, he raised his palm to greet her.

Freya huffed and looked away as soon as she noticed Ivar. Of course she was angry, he just left her alone when she was sure they finally had some connection. "Do you... Eat together in the morning? I used to do so with my family and I would like to talk to Ubbe."

"My dumbshit brother still sleeps. Yes, we do, mother is very strict about this." Ivar informed. "Freya, you look so beautiful."

"As I can see you are rude as always but thank you for miraculously kind words." She nodded, smoothing her dress.

"Beautiful and sweet as always." Ivar commented. "Why are you so unhappy today?"

"Oh, well. Let's see." Freya hummed, tapping her cheek. "I had a really pleasant evening with my soon-to-be husband. He was kind to me once but who would have thought he would be gone before I even woke up?" She growled.

"Okay, so what's the commotion about me getting up early? Listen, it takes me a while to get ready in the morning, especially when I have braces on." He raised his finger at his braces. Sweetheart, I need more time than you do. But I can't lie, you sleep so peacefully that I would love to stay with you longer."

Freya blushed but frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why didn't you? I wouldn't be mad, it would be really nice, actually, love."

"I told you why. I had to get ready for the day."

I could help you if you needed it, or at the very least, you could wake me up." She said, shrugging. "It wasn't enjoyable to wake up alone."

"I didn't want to disturb your sleep. You needed some proper rest after yesterday."

She sighed and walked to him, sighing. "Let it be but do not leave me like this." Freya suddenly touched his cheek, gently stroking it. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Ivar almost hummed and leaned into her touch. "Yes... Good... Keep on..."

Freya kissed his forehead softly after stroking his cheek with her thumb.

Ivar murmured quietly but stopped when he noticed his mother standing nearby.

Aslaug smiled widely and said, "And just yesterday you claimed to snap the neck of a girl that will come here. She has you wrapped around her finger."

You blinked and looked at him, raising your eyebrow at the whole 'neck snapping' thing.

"Mother," Ivar greeted the queen and rolled his eyes at the woman's comment about Freya, "Don't jump to such conclusions. She's just being helpful to a cripple."

Freya blinked, surprised and frowned. She didn't just try to be kind to a cripple. All she wanted was to get closer to Ivar but apparently he had his own conclusions. She huffed angrily and simply walked away to find herself a free seat at the table.

The queen chuckled, nodding her head. "Of course. Keep thinking that."

Ivar offered his mother a glance.

Soon, Ubbe joined. "Good morning, dear family," he said, finishing braiding his long hair. "Freya," he greeted the girl. "How did you sleep?"

Freya smiled at Ubbed sweetly and nodded. "I slept very well. The bed was so nice and warm until morning. How was your night?"

"Good. As much as it can be when you share a chamber with the younger brother who snores."

Ivar giggled loudly.

"Oh... I am so sorry to hear that. I heard no snoring." Freya giggled, giving Ivar a short look before her attention returned to Ubbe. "So, are there any places I could visit today?"

Aslaug frowned. "Why would you leave the Great Hall? Are you bored with my son already?"

Girl shook her head. "None of that, my queen. I just want to know Kattegat better. After all I will stay here, also I want to do something interesting."

"I can show you our settlement," Ivar offered instantly, throwing cold glances to Ubbe, "If you want, of course. Unless you want to go with my brother. At least no one is going to laugh seeing the two of you."

Ubbe stopped with a chalice raised to his lips, his eyes falling on Ivar's face. He could see the anger in his little brother's eyes. "I can take her for a walk, it's not a problem."

Freya looked at Ubbe and then back at Ivar. Oh, how she wanted to mess with him a little longer. He looked cute when he got mad and probably jealous. But she decided not to tease him for now, there would still be time for this. Her grin was contagious. "I will stay with Ivar.”

Ivar smirked proudly. It cost him a lot to not say anything to Ubbe. The feeling was amazing; he won the small fight and it tasted like ale.

Freya smirked as well, seeing Ivar's happiness. Those blue eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Rest of the morning went quiet. Freya was nice to other brothers and Queen, simply talking with them. After breakfast Freya got up from her seat and walked to him. "Is the walk still a thing or you changed your mind?"

"No. I'll take you on a walk. Just I need to go get something so I need to ask you for a little more patience," Ivar replied.

Hvitserk raised his brows and muttered something to himself.

"What's that?" Ubbe asked, nudging his elbow into Hvitserk's side.

“A girl is dating a cripple."

Sigurd shrugged and said, "She is forced to do it, Hvitserk. Remember, she does it to please our mother and her own father." He predicted, "She will run away as soon as she can.".

Aslaug ignored her older sons, looking too intently at Ivar.

Ivar smiled, and Freya gently kissed his temples. "I'll just sit here with the Queen and wait for you. Take your time."

He nodded in agreement. After slowly getting up, he limped back to his room.

Ubbe glanced at their mother. "Are you happy, mama?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. Of course, I am. Ivar will have this lovely girl as his wife." She nodded. "You three aren't happy for your younger brother?"

The smile on Ubbe's face assured Aslaug that he was happy. He had never shown such politeness before.

Hvitserk, on the other hand, merely shrugged. It didn't matter to me.

Sgurd rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Ivar didn't deserve such a chance. He will hurt her. Just like he did to Margrethe. One of us should marry her. Even Bjørn could."

Freya blinked, staring at them. 'Margrethe? Hurt? Who was she?' She wondered.

Ubbe rolled his eyes as he looked at Sigurd. "Stop it!" He said.

Sigurd said, "You were the first to ridicule him for that. She ought to know what kind of man will be her husband."

Ubbe frowned, encouraging him to tell her. "I bet my right hand Ivar will try to rip off your head."

Sigurd nodded and turned to Freya. "As for someone with such a beautiful name and face you ended up with a boy that can't even..."

"Enough!” Aslaug almost yelled. "The three of you are done eating. So off you go, I bet there are thralls thirsty for your pricks." She growled.

The girl was completely confused as she sat there.

The fuss didn't escape Ivar's attention when he returned from his chamber. Is there anything I missed?" He asked, holding a thick bear fur in his hand.

After giving the other boys one last look, Aslaug shook her head, smiling at Ivar. "Nothing is as critical as you think. Ready for a walk?"

Sigurd was the only one to chuckle at the question.

Ivar's eyes instantly scanned the room and stopped on Sigurd. "Do you have a problem?"

"No, not really. I just feel bad for Freya. The walk with a cripple will be sad and humiliating." Sigurd commented looking at Ivar.

Freya was fed up with this stupid play. She rose from her seat and walked towards Sigurd.

"I am tired of you, I am tired of your comments. I don't know what your problem is. I will be Ivar's wife in the future while you'll keep on fucking random thralls."

As Ivar blinked, he took a seat at the table to process what he had just heard. "Freya, leave him, he won't understand." Ivar said slowly.

Older brother said, "You will have problems with him."

Girl snapped, "I don't care. For now, I only have a problem with you. So go get your prick wet because you apparently need this. Maybe some girl will think you are special thanks to those stupid eyes."

Sigurd frowned. "As you wish. Just don't come to us when he will try to strangle you in your bed." He muttered and left.

Freya let out a deep breath and smoothed her dress before smiling at Ivar. "Are you ready?"

Aslaug was of course taken aback by it all but as a good mother should; she simply observed.

Ivar got up slowly and looked at her. He nodded slowly. "Sure. If you still want."

Ubbe smiled at the girl and his brother and as soon as they left, he looked back at the queen. "I can't believe they're speaking so calmly.”

Aslaug nodded, admitting, "You see? Your youngest brother isn't as bad as you all think, boys. He just needs some love and I am more than sure that Freya will give it to him."

Hvitserk chuckled a little darkly. "But mom, you do realise you'll never have grandchildren if it comes to Ivar?"

"Perhaps the three of you will finally follow your brother's lead and take a step to find a real woman and give me grandchildren." Aslaug snapped and added, "Besides, you never know, he may have more children than all of you combined."

"Surely he will. Did you hear that from the Seer?"

"Just go already. Don't you two have stuff to do? Or fuck?" She asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Of course, ma." Hvitserk replied and got off the table to leave the Great Hall as well.

"Let's just hope Ivar will be good for her and won't hurt her." Aslaug sighed, looking at Ubbe.

"What can I say, mother? You know he's short tempered, just like you," he winked at her. "So, you said that you need some help with planning. What can I do for you?"

In the meantime, Ivar stopped outside the Great Hall and looked at her. "Wait, you can't go like that."

She looked at her dress and blinked as she gazed at him. "Is there something wrong with my dress? Shall I change? Maybe I braided my hair in the wrong way... I can change, no problem."

Ivar gave her a look, cocking his brow. He handled her bear fur in a dark brown colour, saying, "You'll get cold. Put it on."

Freya quickly shook her head. "No, honey. You will get cold... Last thing I want is for you to get sick and suffer more than you already do. I will be fine."

The fur was simply placed on her shoulders as Ivar shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm a warrior, I am never sick or weak."

With a nod of the head, Freya accepted the fur and tucked it properly around her shoulders, nuzzling to it gently. "So? What shall we do first?"

"Follow me," he gestured to her.

While walking down the sandy path, Ivar told her about the buildings they passed by.

As Freya tried to keep up with him, she followed him slowly. Everything he said sounded so interesting.

"Over there," he pointed north, "Is a place where my father fled, leaving us all behind." Ivar said.

Freya blinked, surprised at the sudden information. At this point she wasn't sure what to say. "Oh... How could a father do such a thing?"

"My father might be the most famous viking of them all, but he is nothing but a prick." Ivar told her with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Freya nodded. "My father... Never left me. He always kept a watchful eye on me."

"Lucky you then." Ivar replied with his eyes stopped on the mountain on the horizon.

She gently touched his shoulder. "Let's go, Ivar. I am more than sure you want to show me more."

"Yes. I want you to meet a person who has a very special place in my heart," he informed the girl and gestured for her to follow. "Come on, come on."

Freya of course followed him. Her curiosity was piqued when she heard his words.

Ivar limped down the path.

Prince attracted a lot of attention from people, who stopped whatever they were doing to look at him and the girl by his side.

Upon seeing the couple, a few young girls started giggling and whispering to each other.

Ivar ignored them perfectly.

This didn't escape Freya's attention since it seriously pissed her off. Although Ivar wasn't ordinary, that didn't give anyone a right to laugh at him. Taking a look at the girls, she asked, "Hello! What's going on?".

One of them crossed her hands over her chest while whipping her hair. "Have not seen you before. We," she pointed at the girls gathered around her, "Aren't exactly sure who would accompany Ivar the Boneless. Especially if it's a girl."

Ivar stopped, looking back at you. "Freya. Come."

"At last, you are brave enough to speak openly." Freya frowned, crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke. "My name is Freya and I dare to walk with Ivar. Do you have any problem with that?”

The girl giggled, "I don't think so, but I think you do." She said, "I hope you know what his sweet nickname 'boneless' means."

"I don't really care what it means." Freya simply shrugged. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

Another girl raised her eyebrow, giving Ivar a mean glance. "He will not be able to satisfy you nor give you a child. Pity you, you have a pretty face. You should have gone after one of his brothers instead."

"I'm sure you already have. I wouldn't be surprised at all, since you look like a simple whore who would jump on any cock." Freya said, shrugging and joining Ivar. "Forgive me that I wasted our time on these girls. Let's go now."

Ivar looked at her a little angrily. "I told you to come earlier. Listen to me. And don't engage in unnecessary conversations."

She blinked and frowned. "So you will just let them whisper about you behind your back?!”

The subject was dropped when he said, "I don't want to discuss this." "It's not relevant. Leave it."

She followed him as he wished, rolling her eyes.

Ivar remained silent the entire time.

He stopped and offered her his arm as soon as they left the settlement.

Since Freya was more than certain that he was angry, this gesture surprised her. However, it made her smile because it was a positive sign. The offer was accepted, and Freya took his arm. "I'm scared of where you'll take me." She stated.

He told her, "We're going into the woods, so you'd better make sure you hold my arm." "The last thing we need is for you to fall into a bear nest or something. As a cripple, I wouldn't be able to save your beautiful ass if that happened.".

Holding on to him firmly, she laughed and shook her head. "Throughout my childhood, I spent a lot of time in the forest running around, but as you wish, I will stay close and hold on tight."

It felt comfortable already to feel her hands on him; her grasp was strong yet light.

They walked slowly through the woods, in silence.

Freya remained quiet so as not to disturb the silence. She just kept looking up at the trees and the clear sky above. At some point she wrapped some of the fur she was wearing around Ivar's figure as well, just to be sure he wouldn't get cold.

Ivar looked at her after she wrapped fur around him; in the end he offered her a little nod and a smile.

Her face enlightened by little sun rays falling from thick treetops was like a blessing; her beautiful blue eyes glinting with small sparks of excitement, her round, soft lips parted as she inhaled the cold, fresh air into her lungs, her rosy cheeks from the cold wind on her high cheeks. She looked like a goddess. Ivar began to believe she really was one of Æsir.

Freya placed a gentle kiss on his temple as she continued walking.

In this cold wind, the fur kept them both warm.

Even though there was silence during the walk, Freya really enjoyed it. Just being close to him made her happy. She was a bit confused when Ivar stopped. "What... Where are we?"

Ivar shouted, "You old, stinking brat! Where are you hiding your slimy ass?!"

The more Freya looked at him, the more confused she became

Ivar waited for the response, but there was none. He finally turned to his girl. "Come further."

Freya became concerned that Ivar had lost his mind. The area looked abandoned and he appeared to be acting as if someone was there.

Suddenly, a tall, older man appeared before them. He appeared out of nowhere, letting out a deep laugh. As if a stone had been thrown into a still pond, his laughter made ripples. Why does a cripple with a crooked face like yours hang out with women?

Ivar tilted his head a bit. "Since none of them want to waste their time on you." The young man replied with a mischievous grin on his face.

Freya almost jumped out of her skin when the man suddenly appeared in front of them.

In an instant, she hid behind Ivar and looked at the stranger over his shoulder. Girl didn't like this at all, at least it looked like Ivar knew him.

In the end, the older man offered Ivar a wink as he summarised, "So you found yourself a cute, jumpy creature." "I'd like to see her."

Ivar turned his head a tiny bit to look at her. "Don't worry. He's not dangerous. Not emotionally stable, that's true, but not dangerous in the least."

Freya frowned, looking at Ivar. Even though she wasn't so sure, she did what he asked since she kind of trusted him. The girl sighed and smoothed her dress before walking behind Ivar. "Hello there... Um... My name is Freya."

The older man looked at the girl curiously and said, "With your look, you're very winning. Freya it is." He hummed, smiling brightly at her.

Girl nodded. Her eyes focused on Ivar as she replied, "Yes, that is my name and thank you."

"Floki is my father from another mother, an old, stinky, bald wiseass." Ivar told her openly.

Freya blinked and then gasped loudly. "Floki? You mean that Floki? The finest boatbuilder there ever was?!”

Floki giggled loudly while nodding. "That's me, my beautiful Freya. Am I such a well-known and distinguished boatbuilder that my fame is few steps ahead of me?"

Freya jumped into place, clapping her hands a little in celebration. "Your boats brought Ragnar everywhere!" she said.

Floki glanced at Ivar once in a while while watching the girl. "She's lovely, you should marry her."

After looking at Ivar for a moment, Freye laughed nervously. "Well.... So... I think you will like the news that this will actually happen."

"News?" Floki asked as he sat on a thick branch of a fallen tree.

Freya looked at Ivar. "Are you even here with us?”

Ivar stared at Freya without blinking.

Floki said, "He just zoned out. With such a beautiful woman by his side, it is no surprise that he did that. You know, he is not good with women."

Ivar frowned and walked over to the girl. "You're not particularly adept with women, old fool." He added.

"Don't be so selfish, Ivar!" A spirited woman replied and soon Floki was joined by a blond girl. "How are you, by the way?” She asked and immediately walked to Freya to cup her cheeks. A woman looked at Floki and said, "She is so pretty. Did Ivar really bring her here?"

Freya was giggling uncontrollably.

"He did.” Floki giggled, looking after the woman. "They brought us some news."

As Ivar walked slowly towards Freya, he nodded. "She's going to become my wife."

Woman's gaze fell on Freya as she gasped. "Is that true?”

Freye smiled and nodded. "Y-Yes, that's true. It's our parents' decision but it will certainly happen."

"It's our decision as well," Ivar's hand rubbed small circles on Freya's waist. "And this lovely blonde is Helga, Floki's wife."

Freya raised an eyebrow and looked at Ivar with a soft smile. Then she smiled at Helga. "The following statements are true. Soon we'll be husband and wife." Freya nodded her head as a bright smile appeared on her lips.

Helga giggled and embraced Freya before hugging Ivar. "Look, Floki! We will have a delicious feast to attend soon."

Ivar corrected Helga, "The greatest of them all. You know my mother. She will do anything to make sure this day is remembered and talked about for years." Ivar glanced at his girl. "And this beautiful woman, she has already brightened up the entire settlement. I saw people looking at her, but is it too much to ask? She is like a goddess. It was as if Freya herself chose to honour us with her presence."

Helga said excitedly, "Oh, she'll look even more beautiful at the wedding. I'll help her get ready. Find a gorgeous dress, braid her hair, I'll make her a big flower crown!"

Freye smiled and nodded. "I would love that! Since my mother won't be here, this would be very kind!"

Ivar smiled as he let go of Freya's waist. After letting go, he watched both girls walk away, giggling and talking. Ivar loved that about his soon-to-be wife: she was very kind to everyone and spread a pleasant aura around herself.

The shoulders of Floki wrapped around Ivar. "Are you in love?" Floki asked. "Your face is flushed like that of a young shieldmaiden who has just seen her first real manhood."

The only response Ivar could muster was a roll of the eyes.

Freya walked with Helga, talking and chatting about the wedding and everything that needed to be prepared. It was nice to finally talk with someone who wasn't directly involved in this whole mess.

A man as big as a bear suddenly called out Helga's name. Once again, she hides behind her new friend.

Ivar's smirk was instantly wiped from his face when he saw Bjørn approaching.

"Ivar!" The man shouted, taking only two steps before he was standing in front of a cripple. "I came to find you on behalf of your mother."

Freya was taken back to Ivar and Floki by Helga. "Bjørn! It's good to see you as well." She said cheerfully.

The tall, blond viking man completely captivated Freye's attention. His appearance was the opposite of Ivar's.

Bjørn caught sight of her with the corner of his blue eye, and soon his full attention was drawn to her. "Who are you?"

Freya smoothed her dress nervously and smiled as she cleared her throat. "My name is Freya."

While he didn't try to hide the fact that he was checking her out, his eyes drifted up and down her body, inspecting every curve. "Bjørn Ironside." He introduced himself briefly. "It's my first time seeing you, but you can't possibly be a thrall. What are you doing here?"

Helga announced that Freya would soon be Ivar's wife.

Freye smiled and nodded her head. "That's true, I was brought here to become Ivar's wife. So I am not a thrall, you're more than right."

Bjørn laughed loudly, rolling his head back a bit. "Oh, you poor, helpless thing." He took one step closer to find himself in front of the girl. His palm was immediately placed on her cheek. "Such beauty is going to be wasted."

Freya nuzzled to his hand and sighed, shrugging just a little bit. "Honestly, I wasn't the one who made this decision. Father brought me here and said I should marry him."

A glance from Ivar could freeze everything in a blink of an eye, as he cocked his brows. "Freya, let's get back to the Great Hall." He growled.

Bjørn's thumb gently caressed the girl's cheek. "Look at you, you could have anyone, but you're stuck with the most disagreeable person. What a shame."

Once again, Ivar sounded cold when he repeated her name.

When she heard her name, she turned her attention to Ivar. She purred quietly at other man's touch but her attention quickly shifted to Ivar. Freya bit her lips and even if she didn't want to, she moved away from Bjørn to join Ivar.

Ivar grabbed her hand, thanked Helga and Floki, and started dragging Freya after him.

Bjørn spoke with Floki for a while, watching as his step brother walked away.

I-Ivar! You don't have to pull me! I can walk on my own. I am not a horse you need to lead." Freya said as she whimpered under the strength of his grip.

"What the hell was that, woman?" He yelled loudly as they walked along the path that brought them to Floki in the first place. His grasp never relaxed.

She growled, "What's your problem this time? He was just polite to me!"

"And of course you had to fall for these stupid, silly games. As a wife, you have to behave like one. You think I'm deaf and blind?" Ivar raised his tone.

As Freya struggled to free her hand from his grasp, she said, "He appears to know how to behave around women."

With a low growl, he let go of her hand and turned quickly to her. "Of course! Go to him then! Go on! You're free!"

" I need to remind you there is no one who can free me from this situation! I will remain your wife no matter what." She replied, rubbing her palms together. She could see the bruise forming already.

"It doesn't matter. I knew from the beginning that this idea was absurd. How could you fall for someone like me? Go to him. I'm freeing you from this stupid arrangement that none of us are comfortable with."

"Neither you nor I are making this decision, Ivar." Freya said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You could also be a bit gentler. It wouldn't hurt you."

As he hobbled away, he asked, "What if I don't want to? Don't force me to be someone I am not."

While returning to the settlement, Freya grunted frustratedly and passed him by.

While following the girl, Ivar grunted something under his breath.

Freya went to the settlement, but she wasn't interested in returning to the Great Hall.

She disappeared into the crowd as soon as she crossed the main gates.

__________________________________

The moment Aslaug saw her son walking into the house, she snapped, "Where have you been? The two of you were absent for several hours. It's supposed to be a walk!" She exclaimed. "Where is Freya?"

"I have no idea. I am not her father. She's probably fucking somewhere with some normal man, just like any normal woman would." Ivar replied as he passed Aslaug. "Now, leave me alone."

"What do you mean you have no idea? She is going to be your wife soon, you should keep her safe and close." Aslaug scolded him.

"I'm a cripple. How am I supposed to keep any woman close?! Even our fucking thrall didn't want to be involved with me! I'm nothing. Just like my father."

Sigurd laughed, playing with a wooden cup as he sat in front of a fire. "I'm sure if you act like a man for once, she will stay with you by herself."

Aslaug sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The two of you were doing so well. She will be your wife. Shouldn't you really try to make it work?"

Ivar growled, throwing his crutch on the floor and crawling throughout the chamber. "I don't need a wife. I think maybe you should start planning Sigurd's life? And not mine!" He screamed.

Sigurd rolled his eyes. "You are always so dramatic. I would have run away too if I were that girl."

"Enough." Aslaug growled at Sigurd who just shrugged his shoulders.

Ivar locked himself in his bedroom.

Though he hated to feel that way, he had a mental pain that was so intense that he almost felt a physical pain in his chest. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he leaned back against the wall.

__________________________________

Freya was hurt and angry as well. His behaviour really pissed her off. She did indeed try her best for him.

The girl found a nice place to sit near the market. She was able to eat an apple in peace. Thankfully, she still had enough coins to purchase one for herself.

Suddenly, a strong hand caressed her neck, caressing the crook of her shoulder. "Our gods will bring us together again, isn't that so?"

Perhaps you just like to follow girls around?” Freya asked and looked up at Bjørn. “Don't you have better things to do?”

"Saw you sitting here, all alone. As for the gentleman I am, I decided to verify if you're fine."

"No, I am not fine at all." She huffed angrily before biting into the apple.

His palm moved to remove a lock of her hair from her cheek as he sat next to her. "What's wrong?"

As she looked at her bruised hand, she muttered, "My soon-to-be husband is wrong. He behaves as he does and he is surprised when I snap back."

"He did this to you?"

"He grabbed me too hard. That's all." She shrugged.

"You should drop this agreement. You're a free woman, until you marry him."

"I am not. Everything is set..." Freya sighed heavily. "My father brought me here when I was a free woman. Now, I will become Ivar the Boneless' wife."

Bjørn was bold with his actions.

He wrapped his arm gently around her waist. He leaned forward a little. "If you want to be saved, just say it." He whispered into her ear, brushing his lips against her earlobe.

It really annoyed Freye to see him so close, so loudly she growled. "Oh, really? And how would you do that?" She asked, frowning.

"A Ragnarsson who is not crippled would be a better match for you." He simply replied after getting up. "Think about it."

Freya watched him with her eyebrow raised. Having another Ragnarsson hope that she will warm his bed was the last thing she wanted right now.

Bjørn left her all alone.

The girl sighed and stood up to return to the Great Hall. She wanted to go to bed, even though it wasn't the middle of the day yet.

__________________________________

Aslaug smiled when she saw Freya entering the Great Hall. As she walked up to the girl she said, "Oh Freya, thank gods. I was growing worried ever since Ivar returned alone."

Freyea smiled a little. "I am alright. Really."

The Queen cupped her cheeks. She said, "Relax now. If you need anything, just let me know."

Freya nodded and decided to join Ubbe at the table. Girl smiled at him, sitting down. "Hello.'

"Hi," Ubbe responded, staring at her intently as he bit into a piece of chicken leg.

She nodded with a soft smile as she said, "Enjoy your meal."

Ubbe moved a plate filled with chicken towards her. "þakka."

Freya blinked and shook her head. Though she appreciated the offer, she was not hungry. "No, no. Thank you, really. Have you seen Ivar? He made it back here, right?"

“As soon as he got back, he headed to his room. He seemed angry."

Freya got up and strolled straight to Ivar's room after nodding her head. She knocked on the door as soon as she found it. door. No response was received. A frown appeared on her face as she entered the room.

Wrapped tightly in furs and cuddling his pillow, Ivar slept peacefully. Dreaming of the only thing he was sure he would never be able to have - fatherhood - he heard the sound of his children's feet, of their laughter.

And he was so handsome as he slept, that steady heart, those steady breaths, more than enough to make everyone fall in love with him all over again.

She watched him for a short moment, then quietly closed the door before walking closer to the bed.

Ivar looked calm and sweet for once. Then she gently stroked his hair as she sat down on the bed. She felt terrible about making things worse.

At first, he didn't react, being fully asleep. But as she continued to stroke him, he rolled his head, leaning into the touch. While Ivar slowly opened his eyes and breathed back, he stared up at her without blinking.

Her hand moved away and she smiled awkwardly. The girl said quietly, "I am sorry... I didn't mean to scare you or wake you up."

"It's fine.” He replied, slowly rolling to his back, hissing a little.

She worriedly asked, "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should I ask your mother to get someone for you?"

"Easy." He asked her. "It's fine. Nothing happens. Cool down."

Although Freya didn't want to risk it, she bit inside her cheek and nodded. "But... Are you sure? If you are in pain, I can bring someone or something to help you. It won't be a problem."

"It's fine." He assured, turning his head away from her. "What do you want, Freya?"

She quickly explained, "I wanted to see how you're doing, Ivar. Make sure you're fine."

"It's unnecessary, Freya. I'm always fine and good."

"Ivar... I am so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. You've done nothing wrong."

Laying down, she placed her head on his shoulder. I rarely do that. I really shouldn't. I am yours. No one else's. Such a situation should never occur. He wasn't worth my time."

"Just so you know, I don't blame you and I don't have any hard feelings toward you." Ivar assured, cocking his brow slowly when she placed her head on his shoulder. "You are a healthy, young woman. Your purpose is to become a mother one day, to give a life. It's in you, even if you aren't aware of it yet. With me, the grief will be the only experience you will have."

After shaking her head, she nuzzled his neck while cupping his cheek. "No matter what happens, I want to experience it by your side."

"Look at you. You're young and adorable. All men are losing their heads over you. And here I am, a crippled Viking. Do you realise how ridiculous it sounds? A Viking who is a cripple."

She sighed. "None of it matters to me. When you aren't so angry, you are a really nice person and I want to be with someone like that."

The man replied, "But that's not who I am." He said, "I'm vicious. Angry. Raging."

"Oh, Ivar. I know you aren't like this. You are so much more." She looked at him and smiled.

He closed his eyes and replied, "You don't know me.".

As Freya kissed his cheek, she whispered, "So let me get to know you."

He didn't react. But seemingly enjoyed her lips being pressed to his clean shaved cheek.

Freya hummed quietly and continued to kiss his soft skin, soon moving the kisses to his neck.

He turned his head to her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I am kissing your neck. You don't like it?"

"I do.” He replied honestly.

A small giggle was heard from her and she returned to kissing his neck.

He let her go further. "You should marry my brother."

Freya sighed against his neck. "I was brought here to marry you, not anyone else. It was already set in stone. Nothing could change their minds."

His right hand moved to her shoulder and slipped to the back of her neck where he stroked her. "If we protest together, they'll have to change their mind."

"You really don't want me as your wife?" Freya asked.

His fingers danced up and down her neck as he did not reply.

Her smile made him look at her as she cupped his cheek. It took courage for her to touch his lips.

It was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.

Freye soon backed away. As she gently rubbed his chest, she said, "Let's not ruin something we promised. Is that okay with you?"

Ivar ran his hand through his thick, stiff hair. "Yes."

Freya could not contain her laughter. "You are good when it comes to talking with a girl."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not, I must admit. I still have time to learn."

"I will help you." She smiled.

Anxiety thoughts were like a horde of soldiers running through the battlefield, faster and faster. And Ivar felt very anxious at that moment. "We'll see how it ends." He rested his hand on the curve of her hip.

"Ivar, I can feel your heart beating like the heart of a scared rabbit. What's wrong, you can tell me." She whispered into his ear.

"Nothing. I'm not a good man, we both know it and we both are aware where it might lead. I don't want to hurt you, but on the other hand, this is who I am and I can’t just deny it."

"You? Not a good man? Why?" She asked surprised.

"I thought you're aware after today's outburst."

Freya laughed and shook her head. "Ivar. This? Really? You have no idea how many times my father snapped at me. One outburst doesn't make you a bad man."

"You'll realise this one day."

He closed his eyes, enjoying her presence.

"Don't be so sure.” She whispered, kissing his cheek gently.

He opened one of his eyes, glaring up at her face.

Freya looked back at him and simply smiled.

His hand travelled to her cheek, his thumb gently brushed her lower lip. He moved a little, pressing his lips to hers. She tasted like the finest ale.

Freya let out a soft, happy moan and gently kissed him back, wrapping arms around his neck.

Ivar opened his eyes a little to have a brief look at her face.

She looked like an angel. Long lashes, honey hair and honey skin. That girl was sweet from sun-kissed lips to soulful gentleness.

He gently deepened the kiss, trying to not forget what Ubbe had taught him about kissing.

She hummed gladly, accepting the kiss fully. Freya was actually surprised that he was such a good kisser.

When their lips, once connected in a shared, sensual kiss parted, Ivar looked into her eyes. "You're a good kisser."

Freya hummed, nodding her head while biting her lip. "You aren't so bad either."

Ivar's eyes didn't move; they observed you carefully.

Reading a face was using his intuition to see the real person, to allow his longing heart to see below their mask and respond with grace and tact to their real needs.

Freya's face was lightened up with a tiny smile dancing in the corners of her lips. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkling, her little nose twitching a little as a brief laughter escaped her lips.

Ivar chuckled. "I've been practising a lot.” He replied sweetly.

Girl nodded and watched him. Ivar was handsome just the way he was, even if he didn't think so at all. There was more to him than just legs and Freya could see this.

There were still many hours left before the night. As much as Freya wanted they couldn't spend the day in bed. Girl got a nice idea. "Ivar? You know how to use a bow?” she asked curiously.

"Do I know how to use a bow? This is such a random question but yes, I do, why?," Ivar replied, frowning a little.

Freya gasped loudly. "Could you teach me?! I kind of know how to use it but I am not the best at it."

"You want to learn how to use a bow?," He asked. "What for? You're a lady."

She frowned. "Ladies fight as well. I want to be able to fight! How else will I help my husband during a raid?"

He blinked. Ivar was at a loss for words. "You're not only soft-hearted, you're tough enough to stay that way. That takes a kind of bravery that I'm still processing," Ivar replied in the end. "I need to admit that you're a great surprise to me. I'm lucky enough to have a woman with ambitions by my side. Have you ever fought before?"

Freya giggled and shrugged. "I have three older brothers. Life wasn't easy and most of our play time ended with stick fights," she explained. "Once I got older they helped me learn a thing or two. Just to be sure their little sister is safe. I am the youngest child."

The youngest and the cutest at the same time, Ivar thought to himself, but he didn't say it aloud.

He considered her words. "If you want, we can go to the woods to have training."

Freya nodded eagerly. "Yes, pretty please. I would love you to teach me."

She immediately sat up and then got up quickly. "Let's go!" Girl jumped in place.

Ivar blinked once again. "Let me get ready. Wait in the throne chamber."

"No... Can I help you with anything? I... As a good soon to be wife, I should know what my husband's needs are."

"I need to put the braces on," he replied softly.

Freya straightened her back and nodded. "Tell me what to do and I will follow."

"Ahm, Freya, I can do this on my own, don't worry about your little, pretty head."

Freya shook her head and kneeled in front of the bed. "I want to know what my husband needs if I ever have to help him.'

As much as he didn't condone this, with a loud sight he gave her a nod.

Ivar reached to get the braces. "You need to be careful, extremely careful. You need to know that my legs tend to hurt a lot."

Freya bit her lips and nodded, taking the braces from him. After taking a deep breath she started to gently put the braces on.

He sat there stiffened, almost forgetting to breathe; he was mentally ready for the pain wave that would wash all over him if she would not be gentle enough.

Freya worked gently and carefully, making sure to not cause him any pain. This was the last thing she wanted. After a moment she looked up at him. "Everything's fine..?"

He was looking down at her with his eyes wide opened, his breath held back. Ivar nodded, slowly exhaling. "Yes. Yes, you're doing a very good job down there."

She smiled proudly and continued her work to soon put the braces on his other leg as well. Freya honestly felt happy that she didn't hurt him at all.

Ivar reached hand out and put it to her cheek, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "Ágeatavel, þakka.” He said quietly.

It was the very first time when someone was truly kind to him. He wasn't sure how to behave. He wasn't sure what to tell her and how to express his gratitude.

When he made sure his palms were gloved, Ivar got up and offered his hand to Freya. "I can also teach you how to use an axe."

Freya grabbed his hand and happily followed him, smiling at everyone who dared to give them a weird look. She really wanted to build a bond with him and apparently she indeed found a way to do so.

Ivar stopped in the throne chamber to collect his lighter fur. He also attached his favourite axe to a sheath.

Freya grabbed her own fur and then simply watched Ivar getting ready. She was so excited for those lessons. "Can we go?"

"You two are going out again? Will this end up in another fight?” Aslaug asked as soon as she noticed Ivar putting on the fur.

Ivar smiled briefly at his mother. "Hopefully it won't. Don't worry, mother. And don't wait for us. I want to take Freya to the tavern later."

Freya blinked but nodded. "I will make sure we are safe. No need to worry, my queen."

Aslaug sighed and nodded. "Fine then. Just don't get her drunk, Ivar."

"So I can get my ass drunk? Thanks, mother." He teased Aslaug with a little giggle. "Freya, come on."

She nodded and followed him.

Ivar limped slowly through the settlement, leading her to the secret place where he used to train with his brothers. He hoped Sigurd or Hvitserk wouldn't be there.

Girl this time followed him without stopping but she still was giving a mine glances to anyone who dared to giggle or anything.

Of course Sigurd was there. Freye didn't like it because she could already feel the trouble coming. "Oh, Freya! It's so good to see you again!” Sigurd immediately got up from his spot under a huge tree, where he was polishing the blade of his axe. "It's such a shame you have a trail behind you," he added as soon as he spotted his crippled brother.

Ivar didn't reply, instead passed Sigurd by, of course poking him with his shoulder.

Freye huffed and passed by Sigurd as well, trying her best to ignore him.

She was growing tired of his behaviour, all she wanted was to spend some time with Ivar.

She wasn't fast enough; Sigurd caught her by her wrist, pulling her closer, letting his free hand wrap around her waist. "Look at you, such a pretty girl."

"Let me go!" She growled annoyed. "I came here with Ivar. Take your filthy hands off of me!”

"Oh, so resistant.” He chuckled.

His laughter was yet cut off by an axe flying right next to his face, sticking in the branch. It was Ivar's axe.

Freya blinked surprised and looked at Ivar yet she frowned since Sigurd's grip didn't loosen at all. "I warn you, better let me go."

Sigurd was looking hard in her eyes, then let go of her wrist. "So you've chosen. You want to be his cum sack. Fine then but do not come to me if he won't satisfy you."

She finally had enough and simply punched Sigurd in the face, hissing softly as she moved away. "Shut up finally! I have enough of you, by being such a shitty person you will never get any normal girl to like you. Only cheap whores catch an eager cock like you." Freya growled, massaging her palm.

Ivar limped closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "You heard the girl, don't ya?" He asked with eyebrow cocked, looking at Sigurd who fell to the ground.

Other brother got up and spat on the ground right next to Freya's feet. "Whore."

"Say it once more and I'll cut your tongue off.” Ivar informed Sigurd, remaining stoical.

Freya crossed arms over her chest, his words didn't offend her at all. "You better go. Find some woman with no taste who will even want to fuck with you. We are too busy to deal with you, right love?"

"Exactly." Ivar pulled her closer to offer her a lovely kiss.

Sigurd growled loudly. "This is not over yet, Ivar." Then he left the two.

"Like what would he do? Growl at us?" Freya asked, looking at Ivar.

"I have no idea what he meant."

Freya shrugged and clapped her hands. "Who cares. Let's get to what we were planning, I can't wait!"

__________________________________

Ivar showed her many things, from how to use a bow to how to throw an axe.

Freya laughed loudly when the arrow hit the exact spot she was aiming at. She was really mastering her skills. "Did you see that?!”

"Yes, Freya. Good shot." Ivar praised her with a grin on his lips as he sat on a thick branch of a fallen tree.

"Axe probably won't be my best weapon but I am getting good with the bow.” She said proudly. "I will be able to join you during the raids!"

"Join me during raids, you say?" Ivar asked, raising his eyebrow. "You'll never go with me."

Freya looked at him. "What... Why not?”

He measured her features with his glance carefully. "You're too pretty and too precious to be put in such a dangerous situation."

She blushed, hearing his words. Blinking from time to time, she stared at him. "But... I was sure you would love your wife to be with you while raiding distant lands..."

"I'd love my wife to be safe, ruling the kingdom while I'm gone to distant shores, nursing our children.” He said and blushed a little.

Freya blushed a little as well and smiled sweetly. "Oh, really? Nursing our children, you say?" She hummed while walking to him.

"Nursing our children,I say.” Ivar nodded, his face straight as he spoke. "Every marriage has a purpose. It's about giving new life in the end, isn't it, dear Freya?"

She walked to him closer and gently moved hand through his hair. "I think it is. But I was sure you hate me and you don't really want me as your wife or mother for your children."

"I didn't say such a thing.” He shrugged, pretending to not remember about him saying all of the bad stuff.

She hummed and hugged him, stroking his hair lovingly. "In that case... I cannot wait to nurse our children."

He got sad instantly. With a sadness written on his face, Ivar looked up at her. "You do realise I can't give life, right?”

Freya hummed and kissed his head gently. "You don't know that for sure, Ivar."

"Everyone says that.” He reminded her. "Besides, look at me. A crippled viking? I barely can walk. How am I supposed to get you pregnant?"

"Just because people say something doesn't mean it's true. We will see how it is and who knows. Maybe you'll get me pregnant." Freya shrugged a little. "And then I will nurse a lot of our children."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah... Don't you have a feeling you're going to lose all of your best years by the side of the cripple? It must be terrifying."

Freya gently smacked him on the head. "Stop that, I swear to Odin himself.”

__________________________________

He was supposed to be married on that day. He was supposed to be married to the woman his parents had arranged.

But Freya proved to be quite the opposite of the conservative woman he had expected.

He considered Freya to be his soulmate. A partner in crime and his closest friend.

Grabbing Freya's cheeks, Helga exclaimed, "You look so cute!"

As Freya listened to her words, she couldn't help but giggle. Her nerves were frayed. The girl really did fall in love with Ivar, but once that day is over, she will be bound to him until the end; what if he was so kind just up until the wedding? What will happen on the wedding night though?

"Of course she is. After all, Freya is my son's wife." Aslaug smiled, braiding Freya's hair.

In the meantime, Ivar was at the seaside, where the wood altar was built.

In a white silk tunic, matching material pants, and with his hair brushed, Ivar sat on a chair brought to him by Hvitserk.

As Ubbe ruffled Ivar's hair and grinned at him, he said, "Look at you. If I didn't know you, I would call you an angel."

"Stop it.'' The younger brother grunted, pushing Ubbe's hand off his head. "I brushed it. You'll destroy my hairdo."

"You did? It looks as messy as always." Hvitserk giggled. "Freya will run away as soon as she sees this mess. Or you."

Ivar frowned, looking at Hvitserk. Then his eyes moved to Ubbe. "Tell him to stop," he demanded.

Ubbe rolled his eyes and poked Hvitserk's shoulder. "Quit it. Your brother gets married today. Behave."

"Oh you know I am joking but we all know that mother set it up. There is nothing... Real in this relationship," Hvitserk shrugged. "I have no idea why he is so excited about this."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?” Hvitserk asked, looking at his younger brother. "You really think she loves you? Freya was forced to attend this wedding."

Ivar clenched teeth, huffing angrily. "And what do you know about love, dear brother? She loves me and I love her."

Hvitserk summarised, "It's her duty, not her will, Ivar. I doubt you know much about love either. Oh! There she is!"

Ivar turned his head so he could see Freya.

Immediately, his heart beat faster, his blood ran cold through his veins, and the only thing he could do was release a gasp.

As Freya wore a long white dress and had her hair braided neatly, she looked like a goddess.

As a result of instinct, Ivar was compelled to get up from his chair and walk to her. Despite shaking all over his body, he managed to pull himself up, leaning against the back of the chair.

Freye smiled, seeing him. She felt so happy that this day finally came, even if she was really scared Freya couldn't wait. She gasped a little, seeing him standing up proudly.

"Ivar, you shouldn't," Ubbe whispered to his brother quietly. "Sit down, you can't put so much on your legs. Your eyes are blue."

Ivar simply waved his hand at Ubbe. "Don't tell me how to live my life, you ain't my mother, Ubbe."

She took a deep breath, improved her dress and started to walk to finally meet with Ivar at the altar. Girl smiled and cupped his cheek. "You should sit down, love," She whispered, looking at him worriedly. In the past few weeks she learned a lot about Ivar and anything that has to do with his health, including his blue eyes. "You will be in pain later."

With his eyes widening and lips parted, he forgot to breathe; this became a habit of his when he was with her.

Freya blinked and glanced at Ubbe over Ivar's shoulder. "Could you please sit him down?" she asked.

Without saying a word, Ubbe tapped Ivar's shoulder and nodded. It's time to sit.

Ivar obeyed with his eyes glued to his soon-to-be wife.

Freya smiled sweetly at him and gently kissed his forehead. She whispered, "Now... We can bond in front of our Gods.".

Let me take a moment to collect myself. I should stand by your side."

Her hand was raised so she could kiss it gently. "I am so happy."

There were too many emotions accumulating within him, and he was shaking all over.

Freye smiled at him as she asked, "So let's start?"

A tiny smirk danced across the corners of Ivar's lips as he replied, "Yes."

__________________________________

The wedding only lasted a few minutes. During the ceremony, the prophetess who conducted the ceremony exchanged rings, they were united by blood, and she pronounced them husband and wife, for good or for bad.

Once they returned to the settlement, they were greeted by a cheering crowd, led by queen Aslaug. Of course his brothers prepared a feast for them.

Freya was genuinely surprised by the size of the feast. Although she expected a feast, she did not expect it to be so large. Waving to her father and her older brothers, the girl giggled. "This feast is so huge, Ivar! I never expected this!’

She followed her newly married husband, stumbling a bit behind him. My beautiful Freya, I hope you enjoy your day today."

She assured him, "I will certainly do so. A whole feast by my husband's side? This will be better than anything else.".

Ivar waited politely until she sat first when they reached the spots set by thralls.

Freya greeted her older brothers. The men hugged her tightly, giving Ivar a disapproving look. It was good that Freya got married, but why to the cripple?

Prior to joining Ivar, the girl greeted the queen and Helga as well.

After she joined Ivar, she asked softly, "Shall we begin that feast, love?”

He nodded, "I'd like that."

She smiled, taking her horn and raising it up high, "Let's not wait and start the feast, dear friends!"

Seeing her family's glances, Ivar sat slowly. As her husband, he knew they were unhappy. The girl could do better.

As Freya noticed that he was looking at her brothers, she frowned. Touching his shoulder, she asked, "Ivar?".

He turned his head towards her. "Yes?"

When he turned to her, she immediately used the opportunity and pressed her lips to his.

While she was kissing him, Ivar caught himself looking at her face.

Shortly thereafter, he closed his eyes and slipped his tongue past her lips, returning the kiss.

She hummed into the kiss and cupped his cheek. This was to show everyone that she is not ashamed of her husband even in the slightest.

He blinked as their lips parted. "That was something, Freya.."

"Something special, just for my husband." She giggled.

He smiled at her, "It seems that your brothers aren't pleased with me."

"They were not satisfied with anyone who came near me. Honestly? When my father brought me here, I was surprised that they didn't join forces to kick the asses of anyone who wanted to be near me."

"I can fight any of them for you," Ivar said, gesturing at the thrall to pour him more wine.

Freya laughed softly, "You don't have to, love. We don't want any bloodshed or conflict, right?"

“There's something fun about blood spilling on the ground, isn't there?”

"I don't think so, love. Once they get to know you, they will stop." She assured him.

Ivar nodded, "Fine then. We'll spill the blood of our enemies someday."

"You will spill the blood of our enemies and conquer all the distant lands, and I will be here, nursing our children."

"That's my wife." He smiled, trying to cover the blush crawling on his cheeks by raising a chalice with wine up to his lips.

"That should be interesting.” Freya said to Ivar quietly, observing how Hvitserk started to pick on her oldest brother.

Ivar also focused his gaze on Hvitserk. "I bet my bracelet he'll get his ass kicked tonight. Finally."

"Let's watch." She giggled.

Meantime, the man glanced over his shoulder at the stranger that kept bothering him. "And who are you, little boy?"

"Hvitserk Ragnarsson, prince of Kattegat." The young man replied, playing with the knife he held in his hands. "I don't like the way you and your companions are looking at me and my brothers." He pointed to the table where all the Ragnarssons were sitting.

"That's what eyes are for. We look whenever we want." One man said, shrugging, and the others nodded. "This is our first time here, so we are curious."

"I welcome you here, but please stop glaring at us." He gestured towards the sitting man. “Were you taught any manners?"

"Manners have nothing to do with this, little man." The oldest guy replied, his eyes widening as others laughed.

Hvitserk glanced back at his brothers and Sigurd nodded to encourage him to behave properly.

Hvitserk simply pushed the man's shoulder as he said, "I don't like when you stare."

The man stood up right away, he was easily twice the size of Hvitserk. The two others followed. They were not much shorter than their brother. “Then let's resolve this matter as men and women. Because you are the only whiny bitch complaining that we are staring."

Hvitserk reached for the hatchet attached to his belt immediately, being unfazed by the man's height.

With just one gesture, Ivar silenced almost everyone in the chamber. "Enough. Those of you who still have business should go outside, cool down, and only then return."

As Freya nuzzled the shoulder of Ivar, she replied, "Yes, that would be nice. We don't want any fights at our wedding feast."

"We're just fooling around here, my dear sister. We won't ruin your day." The men laughed.

Ivar looked at them with a cold, careful glance. Any trouble would be just the last thing they needed.

Hvitserk nodded at the huge man and patted his shoulder. "I was just messing around with you."

"I like this one!" the tall man laughed and wrapped his arm around Hvitserk. "If everybody is like that, we might even accept Freya's husband."

A nasty smile appeared on Ivar's face in response, after he heard the man's words.

Laughing, Freya watched as her brothers stepped forward and joined Ragnar's sons. "I really expected a fight to happen."

"My troll brother Hvitserk's strange charm attracted them this time, thank goodness."

“I knew they would get along just fine. Just like I did with you." She hummed, resting her head on Ivar's shoulder. "You know what?"

"Hmmm?” He murmured, looking down at the girl.

Her excitement was obvious as she said, "I am glad we are finally together for real!".

He touched her nose. "Surprisingly, I am glad too. I have been stressed for a few days."

"It's funny to think back on how you treated me in the beginning. You threatened to kill any girl that came near you." Freya let out a sharp breath.

"As you can see, I got rid of my stupidity rather quickly." Ivar replied.

She took his hand in hers and said, "I hope you did, my dear husband. I am so lucky to have Ivar the Boneless as my husband."

His blue eyes were open wide, glistening in the light filling the chamber. She could easily conclude he was happy.

His fingers massaged her hand as he squeezed it.

As Freya smiled gently, she nuzzled and kissed him on the cheek, and enjoyed his presence. She stayed at Ivar's side throughout the entire feast. She did not go dancing or chatting with anyone. All she wanted was to be with Ivar.

Toward the evening, Ivar and Freya decided it was time to leave the feast and rest. After leaving the crowd behind, Freya giggled as she flopped on the special bed that was prepared for them. It was filled with soft furs and flower petals.

The man blinked twice as he peeked inside the room before closing the door behind him as he stepped inside. As he slowly limped to the edge of the bed, he commented, "I don't know what you told the thralls, but they did a decent job." Putting his crutches aside, he gazed at the girl. "I'm in awe of your beauty tonight."

A sweet smile spread across Freya's face. "You look so handsome tonight. I am the happiest woman alive." She said and added, "I never imagined I would be that happy."

A smile spread across his face as he undid the stripes of his tunic that had been neatly wrapped around his neck. He removed it slowly, hesitantly.

She climbed up on her knees and moved closer to him so that she could gently help him undress.

When he felt her hands suddenly wandering down his chest, he blushed. "þakka."

Her fingers grazed the strings on the front of her dress as she sat next to him.

"Would you mind helping me take it off?" She asked innocently.

He blinked and felt as if the blood was floating away from his face, leaving him pale. With his eyes fixed on hers, he reached for the strings, untying them quickly. "Very well," he whispered.

"Just take it off." Freya whispered, staring deeply into those stunning blue eyes of his.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat before he asked, "Like, completely?"

He assumed that she would probably have doubts about him and could think negatively of him because of his silliness.

Her eyes widened. "Yes please. It's too beautiful to sleep in, and I don't want to ruin it."

After nodding, he put palms on her shoulders and slipped his fingers under the fabric of the dress, gently pushing it down her shoulders, revealing her chest and belly.

Her breasts caught his attention before he could think. When he realised he was staring, he cleared his throat. "Fyrirgef..."

"It's all yours, Ivar. You can look, touch or whatever else you choose." She took his hand and placed it on her breast as she spoke. "You don't have to be sorry." She laughed. "It's all yours."

His eyes widened and he forgot to breathe once more. "Freya..." He whispered in the end, taking back his hand. "I don't want to disgrace you in any way."

"You do not disgrace me, love. You are my husband now. You have the right to watch me and touch me like this." She said softly.

His eyes wandered again down her body as he asked, "Can I kiss you...?"

"No need to ask. Those lips are yours now. You can do anything you want." She hummed.

In a tender kiss, he slipped his tongue past her lips as he put his palms to her cheeks.

Feya moaned into the kiss and returned it eagerly.

He hummed softly in the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, moving closer to him.

He left her lips and moved his kisses to her neck, gently trailing the tip of his tongue down her pulse point.

Then he moved his kisses down her neck, tracing the tip of his tongue down her pulse point.

"Oh, Ivar..." Freya rubbed her hands into his hair and moaned before biting her lip.

The man cupped her breast in one hand while his other rested on her hip. The man moved his lips down her neck to touch her clavicle while exclaiming, "You're so gorgeous."

She agreed with him wholeheartedly. "Gorgeous and only yours. Your touch feels so good. I love you."

He paused and looked her in the eye. "All mine."

The promise I made in front of the gods is true, Ivar. I'm yours."

Ivar smiled at her. "I'm tired. Aren't you, love?"

She placed herself on his lap and rolled her hips a bit as she frowned. As she gently pushed his chest to make him lie down, she stated, "I am not tired. My husband just got me all hot and bothered. Do you really expect me to go to sleep now?"

Her push made him blink. Still, he put his hands on her hips, gazing at her breasts while stroking her thighs. "Woah, Freya!" He replied, licking his lips. "You're stunning."

She moved towards his neck and began kissing him. Soon she was kissing his chest. "I already heard that, love." She laughed.

"Someone's pretty eager here.” He teased.

She whispered, kissing his belly, "Thank you for making me. Thanks for your touch, your words..."

A sharp intake of breath accompanied him as he tilted his head back, resting his head on the bed. "Freya... maybe we should not do this... I'm not skilled."

"Neither am I..." She confessed, nibbling on the skin of his abdomen.

His lips curled into a smile. "You are such a she-wolf, aren't you!?" He chuckled, slipping his hands into her hair. "You may not be skilled, but you act bravely."

Freya shrugged. “Often, I watched my brothers and their lovers.”

Ivar cocked his brow and propped himself up with his elbows.

Freya frownd. "What?"

"What did you mean by that?"

“Is it so hard to understand? You never pampered your brother to watch him play around with girls?” Asked Freya, raising her eyebrows.

He felt blush hitting his cheeks. "I actually did..."

She sighed, "This is how I... Learned stuff... I never had anyone explain it to me..."

"Yeah, I understand. I heard filthy stories from my brothers or I saw them in action," he smiled. "I'll even be honest now. My brothers arranged for me to meet Margarethe, one of our thralls. They just took me to this hidden place that they prepared for us. They wanted to make me a man," he chuckled at the memory, but his smile quickly disappeared. "I've always joked that no girl would want me because of these," he pointed at his legs. “I don't think my manhood works as it should... Because, you know…”

Freya listened to him, resting her head gently against his legs. Nodding her head she looked at him. "Did you... Love that girl?"

"No." He replied simply, shaking his head a bit, "But you know, they all had her. I didn't want to make myself look foolish. I wanted to challenge myself. It didn't work."

"You can't really challenge yourself when it comes to love. Maybe that's why it didn't work," She whispered as she gently touched his leg. "How do you feel about me?"

He stared down at her. "Good. Comfortable. Relaxed."

"Maybe it will work this time." She smiled at him.

While humming, Freya slowly undid his pants. "Let your wife work, you just need to relax."

"Honey... No, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to look at them." He replied, shaking all over his body.

Freya hushed him. As she smiled, she pushed his pants enough to release his cock. "I know you don't want me to see your legs, but trust me and let me do this."

His head rolled back as he inhaled deeply. "I don't want to disappoint my beautiful wife."

"You would let me down if you pushed me away tonight." She whispered and wrapped her hand around his member. I was surprised at how hard it became. "Would you look at that?"

As soon as he felt something, he opened his eyes wide and realised that it was her delicate hand wrapped around his manhood. Ivar propped himself up on elbows again, looking at her with wide eyes once again. "Impossible..."

Freya looked up and chuckled as her thumb played with his tip. "You see, love? Maybe you just married a woman who is a goddess in a human disguise." She teased and then licked a long strip from the base to the tip of his cock.

As he gasped loudly, he rolled his head back, almost moaning at the intensity of her touch.

As Freya hummed, she remembered what she saw in the past and tried to imitate it here.

Her lips encircled his tip, sucking it gently.

He undid her braids with his hands slipping into her hair. "Freya." He mumbled quietly, looking up at the ceiling, enjoying the pleasant sensation he was experiencing. "This is impossible... You must be a goddess."

"Maybe I indeed am, who knows, love." She whispered, looking up at him before swallowing his member at once.

"Freya." Ivar whispered in a tiny voice, just like a kitten. "You spin my head round."

While Freya purred around his cock, she continued her work on him.

"Leave it." He whispered. "Please. I want you here. I need you here, by my side."

With a loud pop, she pulled him out of her mouth and smiled, licking her lips. The girl moved up, kissing every inch of his body until she reached his lips.

As he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, he kissed her desperately, pulling her as close as he could. His palms stroked over the soft curves hidden beneath her dress, which hadn't been completely removed yet.

Freya returned the kiss eagerly but soon backed away. He was now fully straddled, and she took her dress off with a sweet smile.

"Oh, my Gods!" Ivar whispered quietly, barely moving his lips as he did so; his hands found their way instantly to her round hips, which he grabbed firmly, enjoying how perfectly they fit in his hands.

Freya giggled and reached up to scratch the skin on his chest with her fingertips. "I feel someone is happy." She claimed.

While he admired her body, he was trying to catch his breath.

She smiled, cupping his cheeks. "Are you alive?" She asked, "Or did I kill my husband on a wedding night?"

"I've never felt so alive." He said, slipping his hand between her thighs.

She teased, "Oh, really? You overall seem a little lifeless."

He cocked his brow. His hand found a sweet, hot spot on her while he murmured, "I am not as skilled as you are."

She reminded him, "I did not do this, just watched." I am not skilled either, she told him.

As his thumb gently rubbed her clitoris, Ivar said, "But your confidence lends you some credibility. Do you like it?"

Freya moaned quietly and bit her lip, nodding her head eagerly.

He cleared his throat, whispering, "I have never been so close to a woman before. You'll have to guide me." Meanwhile, he used his index finger to gently spread her pussy lips and tease her entrance.

She smiled. "Yet... somehow you know where to put your fingers. I am sure you know what to do. Just don't stop yourself, my dear husband."

His other hand caressed the beautiful smoothness of her chest, moving up and down it. Meanwhile, one of his fingers slipped into her wet core, teasing it further.

Then, Freya began slowly riding his fingers, moving her hips as Ivar's hand was caressing her chest.

"So eager, aren't you?" He asked with a raspy voice.

He pulled his fingers out, covering her pussy in her own wetness. Shortly after, he took his manhood and lined it up with her entrance.

"So eager, aren't you, dear husband?” She teased him, using his own words against him.

Freya gently grasped his manhood and slid down it, moaning quietly at the strain. "Fuck..."

His eyes were fixed on her beautiful face covered in blush as he parted his lips.

Freya gasped and bit her lips hard, trying to take in the pain. Slowly, she moved up and down his shaft.

He whispered, "Hey, take it easy," as he scanned the exposed features of her body with a smirk. "You feel so good..."

Despite the pain, Freya moved her hips faster as she whispered, "But I want to please my husband."

As Ivar tightened his grip on her hips, he pressed her harder against his legs, making her unable to move. She tried to buck her hips as he said, "Wait. Wait. It's not about me, it's about us." He told her, cocking his brow. "As much as I would like to satisfy myself, I also want you to feel satisfied. Don't want you to feel pain."

When he pressed her down, Freya whimpered loudly. She could feel him deep inside.

As she looked down at him, she said, "I heard it was always painful, love, for the first time. I promise, it will pass soon. I just need to adjust." Freya assured him.

"I was told that, too." He added.

In order to give her some sensation, he gently rubbed circles on her clitoris. "You're so tight that I can't think straight."

Again, Freya moved up and down his manhood. She let out a soft sigh and smiled at him, feeling her walls gently relax around him. It became easier for her to move. "You are so big..."

Her warmness and wetness around his cock were enjoyed while he traced his hands along her waist. Ivar couldn't take his eyes off her. "I'm yours."

Freya gave him a soft smile, her hands touched his chest. "Look at you... You don't have any problems with your beautiful cock. You just needed the right person." She whispered.

"I needed a goddess, and Gods provided me with one in the human body."

"Yes... Yes!” Freya moaned, moving a bit faster. She could feel herself getting closer to her high. "Oh, my Gods...."

"Wait, love!" He again pulled on her hips a little, pressing her pussy to his crotch. "Let me do it properly. Let me try."

Freya bit her lip hard and nodded. "Of course, love."

She laid comfortably on Ivar's bed after being gently pushed off of him. After he slowly rolled on top of her, he pinned her down with his weight. He kissed her hungrily, helping Freya to wrap her legs around his waist. Her arms were pinned above her head by him after he detached his mouth from hers. Suddenly Ivar caught one of her nipples in his mouth, encircling it in warmth as his tongue flicked across it and then he bit down on it tenderly. Soon, he removed his mouth from Freya's breast and looked at her with lust clouding his eyes. He reached down towards his dick and placed it against her entrance. Ivar entered her roughly.

It now seemed as though Freya was praying, wailing praises for Ivar in a way that resembled a moan. Her fingers ran through his hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Ivar grunted as he continued thrusting into Freya. He slammed into her roughly with his hands gripping her waist. "You're so hot, my beautiful wife." He grunted out.

A smile spread across his face as her nails raked over his back. "I'm going to make everyone within the Great Hall know to whom you belong."

Freya gave him a mischievous smile. "I BELONG TO IVAR THE BONELESS! THE GREATEST VIKING THERE IS!" She moaned as loudly as she could.

"That's my girl." Ivar praised as his eyes grew darker and he wasted no time in pulling her closer to him, smashing his full lips against hers as one of his palms slipped between their connected bodies to rub circles on her clitoris. "Cum for me, Freya." Ivar whispered as his thrusts became sloppy.

Frey smiled against his lips and kissed him deeply again. She could feel her walls tightening around him and soon she whimpered his name loudly, cumming all over his prick.

Freya rumbled with pleasure as Ivar held her tightly. He stiffened and buried his head in her shoulder. Ivar's thrusts became sloppier and he slammed into her three more times before he moaned and groaned loudly in pleasure while he milked her pussy with his warm seed. As he breathed heavily, Ivar whispered, "I love you very much." He held her against him and kissed her neck. Slowly, Ivar began to pull away from her.

Gasping and nuzzling him, she purred out of happiness. "I love you too... And who knows. Maybe soon there will be three of us..." Freya whispered.

He nodded with a smile, settling down by her side, lying comfortably on his back. "You think there is a chance? I was told all my life that a cripple cannot have children."

"They also said you can't fuck or be truly loved." Freya looked at him and giggled. "Just look at the mess you left between my legs."

Looking curiously between her legs, he propped himself on his elbows. "I must say I love this view."

She laughed and nodded. "Oh, I hope you do. It was our first time but it won't be our last."

He smirked proudly. "So you'll want to have sex with me more than once?"

A soft frown appeared on her face as she looked at him. "Why not?" She asked, confused.

"I am a disgusting cripple because of my legs."

"Ivar!" She sighed. "If I hear that again, I promise I will punch you."

As he sat up to find his pants, he joked, "You are threatening a cripple."

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him back down. "Let's just sleep." Freya smiled, pulling the fur to cover both of them.

Smiling at Freya, Ivar nodded. "Good." He let her place her head to his chest as his arm wrapped around her figure.