Just a few little imagines.
Add a little bit of oneshots.
May include a bit of Hvitserk, who knows.
Maybe throw in some of Heahmund.
I will be accepting requests.
It will always say completed, but I will still update on here now and then.
I'm not s...
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Words: 3944 Summary: Ivar spied upon you while bathing, and couldn't seem to get you out of his head. Due to you not having the best of marriages, you ran away. Eventually, to be found by Ivar and taken cared of. Warning: mention of domestic and sexual abuse.
Not my best. But something none the less.
__________
You had asked yourself many times if you had deserved what you got. A drunk as a husband, a childless marriage as well a loveless one. At the young age of sixteen you were already married, and you had yet to be satisfied.
The sun had cast it's light upon you. Your (H/C) hair was not yet braided as you looked up to the purple and orange sky. It was early morning and all you wished to do was erase your husband's scent from your flesh. He was not gentle, not at all it would seem considering the bruises that stained your skin. Your wrists and ankles held scars from rope burns, as well as bracelets of purple. Women, before your wedding night complimented you on your clear, untouched skin. They were amazed how sickness nor did any other natural entities touch it. To some you were Goddess. But to him, you were never good enough. You never even strived for his approval. Your father found you a suitor and that is what you got. He did not care for your well being, only that he had one less mouth to feed.
Quickly, you removed your chemise, allowing it to pool around your feet before jumping in the small body of water. The freezing liquid shook you to the bone. However, you beared through it and washed yourself. Each droplet made your skin sparkle, you were enchanting, a creature nature could be proud of.
And Ivar seemed to agree once he spied upon you. Again, he had butted heads with his brother, Sigurd. Therefore, he was in the woods, seeking sanctuary from who he considered to be a fool. Should he be grateful to his brother? Or Margrethe who spilt the mead down him in the first place? That was the reason he encountered such a heated conflict. But, now it was like the Gods were giving him a present to apologise for giving him Sigurd as a brother.
From the shadow of a bush, did he watch you, observe your every movement. You fingers, as gently as they could, fought through your tangles. The sheer morning light radiated over your (S/T) skin. He had never seen you in Kattegat, but he was happy to catch you there, witness you in all your glory as you bathed. He wondered how you could make such a mundane task so bewitching.
It was innocent to say the least. Lust is not what filled Ivar, as some would suspect. It was an immortal desire to be with you, wherever you went. that is what overcame him. He would be thankful, for a crippled boy such as himself, to even be near you. And while you washed yourself down with the cold liquid, did you feel someone watching you.
Instead of the haunting tingle that your husband gave you while you undressed, it was warm, it made you feel content. Few things have made you calm in the last year or so. In excitement, you whipped your head around. Strands of (H/C) hair were dripping wet, allowing droplets to fly around you, like a halo of water. Then did Ivar think you were the most beautiful thing he had seen. You were perfect, possibly beyond that. When your (E/C) met his... You couldn't explain what you felt. But, in the simplest terms, it was called fear.
