When Ivar's dear friend, a princess, is captured by Aethelwulf and intended to be killed, Ivar goes to recover her. Little does he know that his witty girl has a plan of her own to escape, and a friend in the most unlikely of places.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A year after escaping Aethelwulf's hands and marrying your husband, you found yourself heavily pregnant. Not only because the medicines you took to evade pregnancy were quite useless– ginger and chamomile, but because your sweet husband wanted nothing more than to fill you up with his thick spunk.
"Why should I have to pull out?" Ivar pouted as you collapsed on him. You had a very good reason why he should pull out, but it ached you to take away what he so direly craved. He wanted to fill you. In fact, he saw no reason why he shouldn't! He married you!
"I'll become pregnant." You sighed.
"All the more reason to–" Ivar started to say when you frowned. He backtracked his thoughts. "I want to have a baby with my wife."
How could you blame him for that— for fear? You told him you'd try given one condition:
"You want to see him?" Ivar sneered. He gawked at your words and huffed at the insinuation that he would have to welcome him into his home. A Christian... in his home? It was outrageous.
"I miss him. I want him to come see me." You said. Ivar's head lulled to the side, pricking up a sneer. Given that you were so firm on this decision... how bad could it be to have him there for a visit?
Bad. Bad bad bad. It was a horrible decision to let the Christian come. His round little wife was far too bubbly and excited that morning, deep in her pregnancy as she was, pampering as if she was about to meet Baldur himself.
"I don't see why you have to dress up for him." Ivar grumbled. The Great Hall buzzed with life as doors were thrown open. You set down your kohl, kissing the side of your husband's cheek.
"I can dress up if I want to." You sassed off, then laugh. "It isn't as if I can get any more pregnant if he looks at me wrong."
Ivar's head just about whips around. "What did you say woman?"
Just as you went to respond, you heard the shy clearing of someone's throat. Ivar glanced to find the shy black hair cradling a babylike face, complete with a natural blush. Never had he seen a pregnant woman launch off as quickly as you had, arms slunk around Alfred's slight neck. He sheepishly caught you with his hands around your waist– too close for Ivar's comfort.
"Alfred!" You shrieked.
"It's been a long time, my friend." Alfred said. "You're glowing."
Alfred pulls back and runs his eyes over the round bump. Ivar sneers, turning his eyes away in slight irritation that the perfect little Christian was acting as if he wasn't even there. You take Alfred's hands and set them to the roundness of your stomach to feel over the bump– and finally Ivar lurches off with his crutch towards you. He shoves off Alfred's hand, head dropped with black flyaway hairs in his face.
"Don't touch my son, Christian." He protests. You gape at your husband. Alfred saw the fight coming when your lips pulled down as if you were about to blow. He glanced to his brother Aethelred when you both took off in a flurry of your native tongue.
"He is MY son as well Ivar. If I want him to know a Christian King he will." You snip, your hands cradling the round swell.
"Our son won't have anything to do with the Christ-God." He leans into your face.
"You are impossible!"
Back and forth you both went. Alfred brought his hands to his slender waist, looking down to his feet. "Perhaps I should go." He suggests. Aethelred nods in preference for the option. Go– far, far away. Far away. Like back home away.
"No!" You both shout. Then you look back to Ivar, folding your hands against your swollen breasts. Normally, you wouldn't quite take it this far. You could agree that Christians shouldn't be around the baby you were growing in your belly. Most Christians, but not Alfred. Alfred was different.
"I held my end of our deal, Ivar. I let you fill me– and here you are not holding up to your promise." You say, looking over to Alfred. It occurs to Ivar that he made a promise, causing his teeth to grit and an annoyed curse to fly from his lips. He flicks his hands as if to urge you to leave.
"Go, before I change my mind." Ivar says.
He still had half a mind to strangle Alfred. Now he knew what men meant when they said pregnancy bothered the minds of men as well as women.
