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: 540 A/N: Why are they becoming so short. 😕
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Aslaug had retired to her bed earlier than usual. Leaving her four sons to feast amongst themselves. Without their mother, they could say what they pleased, and indulge in jokes that those with feeble hearts couldn't withstand.
Like always, Ivar was sat at the foot of the table. His golden chalice held firm by the rim. He was unnaturally quiet as his brothers spoke. He had cast his mind back to you. Your (H/C) hair, soft (S/T) skin and the body you possessed. He could imagine running his hands over every inch of you, savouring what beauty you beheld, what was hidden under your signature blue dress.
"So, when Margrethe is not able to warm your bed. Who do you turn to?" Hvitserk asked Sigurd. Genuinely, curious to what his younger sibling would get up to in his spare time.
Sigurd, unbeknownst to the rest, spared a flicker of a glance in Ivar's direction. Knowing what would tip him over the edge.
"You know of (Y/N), right?" He questioned. He watched as Ivar's head whipped up at the sound of your name.
To his younger brother. Your name didn't role off his tongue. In his voice, it was a sour venom. Unable to symbolise even a little of your existence.
"She came last night while you two were busy. And the way she screamed my name beneath me... It was like reaching Vahalla" Sigurd said. He over exaggerated as much as he had lied. You had yet to lay with a man. And deep down, you desired for it to be Ivar. However, he couldn't know of that. You feared he would not feel the same. Compared to him, you were a commoner among many in Kattegat. You would be making a fool of yourself to confess.
"Liar!" Ivar exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table. It shook with a ferocity, making objects jump slightly against the wood. His voice rang out in their ears.
"How would you know? Do you watch her? How sick... But, I guess that's the only way. She wouldn't willing sleep with you" Sigurd recoiled in disgust.
"Shut your mouth!",
"What? Don't like hearing that mummy will be the only one to love you?... She only pities you" He spat.
Suddenly, the knife that laid beside Ivar's plate, flew across the air. Only just skimming his brothers ear, however, the throw drew blood none the less. At that, Ivar left, he pushed himself to the ground and crawled away. All the while, Sigurd taunted him for leaving.
Once he was out of ear shot, Ubbe spoke up. Knowing he shouldn't get involved with either of the brothers, until their conflict burnt out.
"You shouldn't have done that..." Ubbe sighed, rotating his cup to watch the mead swirl.
"Why? Isn't he allowed to hear the truth?" He questioned while raising a blonde eyebrow.
Hvitserk continued to listen on in silence as his older brother talked sense into Sigurd. It was all they could do, nothing more, nothing less.
"That wasn't the truth. We've known (Y/N) thanks to Ivar. She wouldn't do that, she likes him-" Ubbe reminded. When he did that, he leant forward.
