The young of the forgotten God of illusion, Valravn, craves the Midgardian Ivar the Boneless. Valravn, beings the doting father, allows his daughter to chase after he she desires most and she plans to take what she wishes to have by any means nessic...
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Each night, a raven visits his dreams. Larger than most common ravens hes seen throughout his life, a shade of black so dark he didnt think possible. He believed it was a sign, from Odin, the Allfather himself, telling him that he is favoured by the Gods and that they watch over him, that Odin favours him above all.
And he had no reason to believe otherwise.
Each battle Ivar the boneless found himself in, he had come out victorious and with barely a scratch. Whether he slain enemies whilst he rode in his chariot above all or slithered his way between and over corpses on the ground like the great serpent Jörmungandr who encircles the realm of Midgard.
He was high off of each victory and he continued to believe he was blessed by the Gods who lived amongst the other Aesir upon Asgard.
But when no raven came to him one night after so many battles against the Saxons, he feared he had lost their favour.
Ivar became heightened in his worry, almost coming to call his great army away from the fight against the Saxons that day. He was on edge; anyone would be when they feared the Gods were angry at them and would allow them to be struck down.
But it seemed his fear was all for nought. The battle had been won and once again, Ivan the boneless and his heathen army were undefeated.
He and his men celebrated like true Vikings with food, ale, and women. Loud and rowdy were the crowds in his makeshift hall, the spirits of each men high.
As he drank his bodyweight and more in ale, a thrall curled up by his feet readily waiting to please the king of Kattegat, Ivar still couldnt force his mind away from the lack of ravens in his dreams, the raven that had been present continuously for plenty of moons.
Without much regard for his army and brothers, even so the thrall by his near useless feet, he stood with his crutch and slowly made his way from the celebrations towards where he had been resting since overtaking the large church, using the deceased bishops quarters as his own.
The thrall had moved to stand and follow but Ivar had simply waved her off, telling her with no words that she is to leave him be.
His eyes were distant, and his brow furrowed as he looked towards the ground beneath his crippled legs, opening the door to the bishops chambers and closing it the moment he stepped inside. Lifting his eyes from the ground he noticed something peculiar laying on his bed, his brows now furrowing in that of questioning and curiosity.
He slowly made his way over the bed now claimed as his own, picking up the large, obsidian black feather between his thumb and finger.
With his eyes solely concentrated on the feather slowly being twisted and turned between his fingers, he failed to notice the dark figure that hid in the corner of his room, hidden in the shadows, a powerful magic accompanied to conceal them from the sight of Ivar and his heathens.
His lips slowly raised into a smile, one of relief and realisation. The Gods had not abandoned him, they were merely more physical in their presence.
And so, Ivar fell into a slumber truly believing that he misunderstood and that the Gods, that Odin, they all still had their favour, not knowing the true meaning behind the ravens presence.
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A ruffling of feathers, loud and so nearby; that is what woke Ivar in the dead of night.
There was no doubt in his mind that the entirety of his army alongside his brothers, slaves and thralls were all still deeply asleep, the noise couldnt have been made by them.
Then his mind slightly panicked, his eyes still closed but he reached for the blade hidden under his pillow, afraid that somehow a man of the enemy had snuck in unnoticed and was preparing to attack.
But why would the enemy make a noise so akin to a bird?
Maybe it was the Gods, maybe he would finally catch a glimpse of the raven. Maybe it was Odins very own two spies, Huginn and Muninn. Or maybe it was Odin himself, disguised as the black onyx-coloured bird.
Whatever it may be, he would soon find out as Ivar slowly allowed his lids to open up.
What came into view was certainly a surprise, to which he was uncertain whether was welcomed or not.
Wide, rounded eyes lined with kohl looked down to him, the makeup wild and smudged around the eyes and down the cheeks. Full lips were parted slightly, allowing small puffs of air to pass between, a deep, dark line, most likely kohl too, ran from the top of her bottom lip, down her chin and past her collarbones to dip behind the large, feathered cape to more than likely travel between her breasts.
Her body was crouched over his, watching him with those same kohl-lined eyes, eyelashes occasionally brushing the apples of her cheeks as she blinks at him.
He couldnt deny, she was certainly the most beautiful of creatures; if only his brothers had seen in that moment how she was above him, looking towards him as if he had created the sun, placed each star in the sky and crafted the moon with his own bare hands, they would surely agree that no mortal and maybe even no God theyve been taught of could rival her beauty, not even Freyja.
Ivar held his breath as he watched with keen eyes how her hand peeked out from behind the large cape of raven feathers and timidly came towards his face, allowing her finger to touch with the lightest pressure the flesh between his brows, allowing the tip of her finger to brush over his features with such a delicate touch.
The king of Kattegat was in awe, as if in a trance. He wished the moment would never be spoiled, but he knew he must speak first, otherwise he might die waiting to hear her voice first.
