King Ivar spends much of his time with his infertile first wife: neglecting his second wife, the mother of his children, a Freyjasdottir. Eventually, it catches up to him when a foreign King Sverri invades his lands.
tw: abuse, character death, etc.
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"How does it feel?"
Strange. Bizarre. The prince shifted above you, sliding in and out of your body with minimal complaints from you. Your hands were shaking, heart palpitating and breath out in only the lightest of puffs. Your knees attempted to knock together, instead meeting his waist. For some stability, you reached out: weakly grasping his shoulders. The sensations were raw, splitting you deeply open... but left you aching for more of his body. Your lips were stolen by his, tangled in a weave of fate.
"Good."
When you finally snap awake, you realize what had happened. Yet again you had fallen into fantastical dreams of the bright eyed prince that rattled you on his dick for ten days. You were reminded of the cycles of night and the cycles of day. How he chased you through the camp for your body but at the end of it all, disappeared like a wanderer in the mist. You constantly wonder if you'd see that bright eyed, gentle faced Ragnarsson again.
"(Y/N). Are you dreaming again?" Your father Faksi rattles you out of dream world. He scoops you out of his head boat and sets out towards Kattegat's Great Hall like you were but one year old against his chest. You cling onto his wide shoulders, nuzzling against his scratchy wayward flying hairs of his beard. As he breaches the hall, his massive hands curl under your legs to prop you up as if you sat in a massive throne. Then like that, he sets you down too gently— and looks to the head of the chair.
There sat another King. King Ivar the Boneless... a Ragnarsson.
One of them anyway. Without looking well at the king, you look about the room for the only other Ragnarsson you knew. He wasn't here. When your eyes train back on the King, his eyes have met yours. They're as vividly bright as Ubbe's were, but different, perhaps it was the arrogant quality that he brought on when he realized you were looking at him too. His overtunic was loose on his chest, revealing some of his tanned skin. Around his neck, a sole hammer drapes. You comb down the skirt of a silvery and cobalt blue dress, ensuring that it covered your legs.
"Fa... Father. He's looking at me! Do I have to go?" You lean in against him.
"Then look back." Faksi grins toothily, shedding his cloak to a thrall. He strides in on thunderous steps, bouncing the floor.
You took that as a yes.
"Ugh..." You murmur, shedding a cloak of bright blues sewn with silver thread. Without it, you feel nearly naked. The King has his knuckles at his chin as you step forward.
"KING IVAR!" Your father bellows and approaches the chair where Ivar sat. Beside him there was a slender but beautiful blonde. Her eyes were bright just as her hair was, laying in gently curled blonde twists down a popping orange dress. As she smiled at Faksi, a pair of dimples popping through her cheeks. When she turned to find you, they disappear all together.
"Hello King Faksi." Ivar chuckles. "The raiding went well?"
From beside you, the men blew by with chests overfilling in riches. Coins of gold pieces scatter on the ground, Christian crosses glimmer from the top of the pile. Your father ran his fingers by his aging beard, tilting his head to the side. "You could say so." He says sheepishly before nodding to the woman beside the King. "Queen Kitta."
