Ivar Ragnarsson Imagines

The great fire of love

"So brother. Are you excited?" Hvitserk teased. Ivar and Hvitserk had set out with a small group to travel to your earldom. Ubbe had gone a different route with his own group which was slightly larger.

"What do you mean, Hvitserk?" Ivar sighed as he leant on the side of his chariot, without slowing down.

"It has been so long since you have seen you, sweet (Y/N) in person. Only relying on the messages that she could sneak away to you." Hvitserk grinned wickedly. For years his youngest brother had been insistent that you were miserable. You'd been married off and sent away to an earl, your family remaining in Kattegat, suddenly thriving. It was, as far as Ivar was concerned, as if they had traded you so that they could live a better life. He was more than convinced that he was the only person who truly cared if you were happy or not.

"We are going to rescue our friend." Ivar said with gritted teeth. He glowered ahead, focusing on the creek of his chariots wheels which did little to drown out Hvitserk's low chuckle. YOur last message to Ivar had arrived a while ago, maybe a month, Hvitserk mused. He and Ubbe had never put much credit into Ivar's conviction that you needed saving. Not until the desperate plea had arrived in the form of a small, nervous, but rather pretty messenger. She had scuttled into the main hall and sought Ivar out.

"He means to free the Thrall he has been laying with and you kill (Y/N) and her son. She begs you to help her." The girl had said to Ivar in such a rush it had taken all three brothers a moment for the smiles to fall from their faces. Ubbe had been sent to ask Harald for help. Harald had agreed, he wanted to take the earldom, he wanted to see if he could steal you from Ivar, even if that gods did seem to always bind your and Ivar together one way or another.

That was Ivar's plan. He couldn't find a way to free you so he would cut you out of your husband's grip and flee. Ubbe had reminded Ivar that you had a son with your husband and Torvi insisted that you would not. Perhaps you could not part with the boy. So Ivar had decided that if you loved the son of the man who planned to end your life, that would declare you mad and steal you away anyway.

The gates of the earldom weren't impressive. Infact, if you hadn't known you were passing under them, you would have missed the roughly carved trees that had been cut into the visage of your husband's most favoured gods. Crowds of people hushed and fell silent, turning to stare at the small group as they made their way to the main hall. Ivar could hear his name hissed and whispered as if it belonged in the wind. Hvitserk and Ivar had everyone's attention as they entered the hall. You spotted them first and a mixture of great relief and excitement melded with pain and worry. It made your pretty face contort in a way that made Hvitserk's stomach twist. Ivar had been right all along. He thought bitterly. He and Ubbe had been happy to leave you here. A fine thing to do to the fiery friend they had grown up beside. How quickly they'd discarded their love for you. When he glanced at Ivar he saw nothing. Ivar's face held a blank expression that no one, perhaps not even you could read. He wondered if he was angry at himself and at Ubbe, for all the times they had insisted that the one of your secret messages were miss understood on his part. Was he angry with himself for ignoring his instinct and abandoning you for so long? Hvitserk turned his attention back to the sour, irritated looking man on a great ugly throne at the back of the room. To you, sit meekly beside him, then to the young boy who had not looked up from his feet or moved once as Hvitserk had looked over the room. The boy was yours, no doubt, he could see all the things you had given him. The gods had favoured the boy no doubt. Because Hvitserk thought your husband who jerked a hand at them, unkindly, looked nothing short of an ugly, unkind soul whose body had been twisted with bitterness and short fury.

"Ragnarssons. What do you want?" He snapped. His voice was sharp, cold. Even if he had Ivar hadn't come to steal his wife and son, Hvitserk had expected some faux kindness. But no. He was just as unkind and blunt as Ivar had theorized. Every hard word that fled from your husband's mouth, made Hvitserk believe ever firmer in Ivar's determination to rid you of the man permanently.