Multifandom X Reader Stories

Beneath the Shield Wall (Ivar The Boneless)

The clang of steel echoed across the battlefield, the cold air stinging your skin as you stood amidst the chaos, sword in hand. Warriors clashed all around you, but your focus never wavered from the man watching from his chariot, eyes as sharp as a hawk's. Ivar the Boneless. His gaze bore into you from across the blood-soaked field, his lips curled into a smirk.

You had heard stories of Ivar—of his cruelty, his brilliance, his unpredictability. What the stories failed to mention was the intensity of his presence, the way his eyes seemed to burn right through you. Despite the distance, you felt tethered to him, as if the battle was just a backdrop to the silent exchange between the two of you.

With a grunt, you parried a blow from a warrior who'd managed to break through your line of defense. You dodged swiftly, catching the man off balance, and with one clean strike, he fell. Blood sprayed across your armor, and you wiped it from your brow. When you looked up again, Ivar's smirk had grown.

The battle raged on, but something in the air shifted. The Saxons began to retreat, their forces crumbling under the relentless strength of the Vikings. A cheer went up among your comrades, but your attention was still locked on Ivar. As the fighting slowed, he gestured for his men to bring his chariot forward, right toward you.

Your heart pounded, not from fear, but anticipation.

He approached, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker—something you couldn't quite name. His chariot came to a halt mere feet from where you stood, breathing heavily. Up close, his features were even more striking—sharp, calculating, yet undeniably captivating.

"You fight well for a shieldmaiden," he said, his voice low and cutting through the noise around you. "Better than most men I've seen."

You met his gaze, refusing to look away. "I don't fight for your approval, Ivar."

His laugh was deep, but there was an edge to it. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he studied you. "No, you don't. But I wonder... would you fight for me?"

His question hung in the air, and though the battlefield was quieting, your heartbeat thundered in your ears. He was testing you, seeing how far you'd bend before you broke.

"I fight for myself," you replied, gripping the hilt of your sword tighter. "Not for kings or legends."

Ivar tilted his head, intrigued. "And what if I offered you something more than that? Something... greater."

Your chest tightened as he spoke, the weight of his words sinking in. Ivar was a master strategist, always thinking three steps ahead. And now, it seemed you were part of his next game.

"What are you offering, Ivar?" You tried to keep your voice steady, though you couldn't deny the pull you felt toward him.

His smirk softened into something almost dangerous, yet alluring. "Power. Glory. My side."

There was a pause as he let his words settle in. His side. The very idea was both terrifying and exhilarating. To stand beside a man like Ivar, to face the world with him... it was a risk, but it was tempting.

"You think I'd follow you so easily?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk never faltering. "I think you're smart enough to see where true power lies. And I think you want it as much as I do."

You stepped closer, so that you were nearly eye level with him as he sat in his chariot. The smell of iron and sweat clung to the both of you, but you barely noticed. All you could see was the challenge in his eyes, the fire that promised more than just conquest. This was about survival, about rising above the chaos and claiming what was yours.

"I'll stand by your side," you said, voice firm, "but only as your equal, not your servant."

His eyes flared with approval, and for a moment, the smirk faded into something far more real. "Then welcome to my world, (Y/N)."

Without another word, he leaned back in his chariot, gesturing for his warriors to pull away. The battle was over, but the war for power had only just begun. And you, it seemed, had just made a pact with the most dangerous man alive.

As he rode away, you watched his retreating form, the taste of something new—something dangerous—on your tongue. You had no idea what the future held, but one thing was certain: standing beside Ivar the Boneless was a choice that would change everything.

And, somehow, you welcomed it.