With The Stars As Our Witnesses

chapter 7

Would it be insane to think that y/n was worried more about her dirty, bread batter dress than the Ragnarsson that stood before her? Sat more really but oh well.

Ivar did not give the thrall time to respond before he started to crawl away, creating a scratching noise as he dragged his legs across the ground.

y/n stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. The wise choice, with the most percentage of not dying, was to follow the Prince to whatever hell he took her too. But y/n had a job to do, there was still much to do and only so much time. Dare she defy him? Deny his request?

No, as much as she did not want to be scolded and thrown out by the head thrall, she definitely did not want to face Ivar's wrath.

Freya watch over me. y/n prayed, hoping the goddess would hear her. But her fate was in Ivar's hands. His strong, deadly hands.

Ivar stopped in front on a hut, for a minute, y/n was confused as to where they were but soon the realization dawned over her.

Ivar's hut.

Of all places, really?! y/n cursed in her home language, something that Ivar heard no doubt.

He turned, facing her. Blazing blue eyes that she would happily gaze forever into, but right now wanted more than anything to shrink.

"I've seen you in the healers tent." He said casually, as if the topic of conversation was the weather. He looked away, crawling into the hut, with a simple command of following.

I have read too much fanfiction to not be wary right now. y/n thought with a sigh, following the young Prince into his quarters.

Inside, it was dark, the only source of light coming from the fire Ivar was tending to. Should I not be doing that?

y/n stood silently, a good distance away from Ivar. Looking around, you could see the simple touches that made the room distinctly Ivar's. Metal weapons placed carefully on a table, fur coats folded neatly in the corner.

Despite what many people think, vikings were as clean as holy water. Not quite as but you get what I mean.

"Thrall, what is your name?"

y/n pursed her lips, hesitating. Her shoulders shook slightly, afraid. All the times she spent dreaming in her world, about a chance to meet the youngest Raggnarson. Naive little thoughts about how he would be consumed by her as she was with him. And now?

Now all she wanted was for Odin to strike her down and send her to hell. What is hell called in Norse Mythology?

y/n's hand was yanked, pulling her down to her knees. Blazing blue eyes pierced her soul and struck her motionless. Such anger and impatience, if y/n was scared for her life, she would have scolded him like a mother.

"I do not appreciate disobedience from slaves." He growled lowly. "Your name, now!"

"Y/n." She was worried he would make her sat it again, not even she could hear what came out of her mouth.

But Ivar looked sated, another squeeze to her arm and she was freed. y/n rubbed her wrists, bruises already beginning to form.

"y/n..." Like herself, her name was foreign. Ivar tested the name out, rolling it off his tongue until it sounded right to him.

"Now y/n, tell me about yourself."

Sorry for the slow updates. I was actually going to end the chapter when y/n and Ivar arrived at the hut, but it didn't sit right with me.

Thank you for views my story, much appreciated!