You never really liked the formalities that came with the throne.
You hadn't liked it back at your country and you didn't like it now in this completely new Viking land either. It was even more intimidating when you were alone. Ivar was off to see the raiders on the other side of the Kattegat and that meant you would be alone with this group of newcomers for at least an hour if not more.
And that alone was scarier than you thought it would be.
"You don't look very happy," Hvitserk said and your head snapped up before you tried to smile.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Written all over your face," he motioned at you as he sipped his drink, "I thought you would be happier for sure."
"Why?"
"They're your countrymen, aren't they?" Hvitserk asked, "The group that's coming to visit. Did you not miss them?"
You shook your head, "No."
"No? I distinctly remember you comparing us to them and calling us... what was it?"
You tried to control your laugh, "Hvitserk!"
"No, I'm trying to remember. Something along the lines how we were all..."
"You're terrible," You made a face at him, giggling and he snapped his fingers.
"Barbarians," he pointed out, "You were screaming at the top of your lungs in fact."
You covered your burning face, then lowered your hands, "You will never let that go, will you?"
"No," Hvitserk grinned like a boy, "And look at you now."
"Look at me now," you repeated, looking down at yourself with a sigh. Even though it had been difficult beyond words, you had to admit that you looked like a proper Viking now.
Except for your hair. You were still learning about that. Ivar tended to tease you about that but considering it had only been a month since you got there, and everything was relatively new to you, you dared to say you were doing pretty well so far.
Until now.
Oh God.
Sorry. Gods.
Whoever it is up there.
"Y/N?"
You snapped out of your thoughts, "Hm?"
"They're here."
"Okay," You took a deep breath and fixed your crown, "How do I look?"
"If I didn't know you, I'd think you were a proper Viking." Hvitserk shrugged, that playful light gleaming in his eyes. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to control your laugh and walked past him to the throne room, with him following you like a shadow and you stopped at the door, then turned to Hvitserk.
"I changed my mind," You said, your heart beating in your ears, "No. I can't do this."
"I repeat, these are your countrymen." Hvitserk tried to sound reasonable, but it was highly sabotaged by the cup he was holding, filled with ale.
"Yes Hvitserk, and do you know what that means?"
"They will be very friendly with you?"
"No, they will report everything to my brother."
Your brother, who had lost no time using you for his political strategies as soon as he was crowned. Hence where you were now.
Hvitserk rolled his eyes and leaned back to the wall, "So what?"
"So plenty," you hissed, "Do you know what will happen if they report back any mistake?"
He scoffed, "Nothing. We have the most powerful army in the world, and Ivar doesn't like disrespect."
That was assuming Ivar actually cared about you, an issue you still had no clear answer to. There were times you thought you saw a spark there but...
Considering you hardly spent any time together, and in addition to lack of-
You felt your cheeks burn and you cleared your throat, while Hvitserk shot you a look.
"Y/N. Come on, you can't be intimidated by them. Where's the girl who made a fuss and screamed in the throne room of her palace that she would marry no heathen, hm?"
"Actually ended up being married to a heathen," you said slowly and licked your lips, "Okay. Okay, you'd save me if it got strange, would you not?"
"My sword is at your service."
"Alright then," You threw your shoulder back and walked into the throne room, the familiar noise of the crowd greeting you and the man standing in front of the small group that had different clothes than the rest of the hall.
"Well well, if it isn't our beautiful Y/N," he said and you tried to smile. The truth was, you had never really liked him, not even back at the palace. He was always way too condescending, and that night before everything started, you had heard him talking to your brother, and he had made his opinion about you clear;
Let her be the heathen's whore if that's what will save our skins.
You shook your head, trying to shake off the thoughts and let him kiss you on the cheek.
"Rowan," you greeted him, "Had a nice trip, I hope?"
"Sea was merciful." Rowan stated, "And all the troubles disappeared now that we've seen your beautiful face, Y/N."
Liar.
"Gentlemen, you remember our little Y/N." he held your hand as you both turned to the group, "But of course, she's a Queen now. Who could've seen that, hm?"
Hvitserk's hand was still on the handle of his sword as you sat down on the throne, now wishing more than ever that Ivar would be back already.
"How is my brother?"
"Praying for your health day and night," Rowan said and you tried not to scoff at the blatant lie, "He misses his little sister terribly."
Mm hm.
Almost convincing.
"Well I would appreciate it if you could tell me I pray for his health and the victories that will follow him surely," the lie left your lips almost too easy and Hvitserk cleared his throat, as if trying not to laugh. Rowan turned to the men listening to you both closely.
"We have heard that Vikings entertainments are quite... different," he said, "May I ask if we will be attending any?"
"Why of course," you said "It would be cruel to keep such a thing hidden from you."
"And do you still dance, your grace?"
You smiled slightly. "Yes, sometimes."
"I remember one time-" Rowan turned to his men with a smirk on his face, "At a masquerade, she danced all night," his eyes turned to you, "Yet again, I assume you put your dancing skills to use on top of your Viking King now, do you not Y/N?"
Your eyes snapped up to his as you felt your jaw drop, and Hvitserk shifted his weight beside you.
Of course. That was what everyone thought. You were pretty sure even Ubbe and Hvitserk did not know about you and Ivar's... lack of intimacy.
Everyone had told you so many fearful things about it that the first –and the last- night Ivar tried touching you, you had almost hyperventilated, holding onto sheets for your dear life and sitting up at the corner of the huge bed, your heart beating fast enough that you thought even he could hear it from the other side of the bed. If it were your own country, everyone would insist the marriage to be consummated, but as you saw later on, Vikings couldn't care less. Contrary to what you had heard about Vikings, Ivar didn't seem to have any interest to push you, and that was when your unspoken agreement begin.
The next morning at the breakfast, you would bury your burning face to Ivar's arm, an embarrassed smile playing on your lips enough to boost his ego and make every doubt of his brothers –who had kept making innuendos- disappear.
You didn't really talk about it for the whole month, and now to think of it, you didn't really spend so much time together anyway. Ivar seemed less than interested in you which made you think he only saw this marriage as a business came with the crown but...
But it did not mean that your brother's messenger could be that outspoken with you.
"I hope you'll like it here, Rowan," you forced yourself to smile calmly, your cheeks burning with both embarrassment and fury, "We will surely do our best to keep you entertained."
He bowed before he made his way to his men, and you gritted your teeth, then whirled around on your heels to go to your and Ivar's chambers.
"Y/N-"
"Don't," You said through your teeth and you stormed into the chamber, slamming the door behind you but Hvitserk opened the door to get inside.
"I can just kill him if you want."
"You can't kill the messenger Hvitserk, it's not very diplomatic." You pulled the crown from your hair and tossed it on the table, while Hvitserk heaved a sigh.
"He humiliated you,"
"I'm well aware," You tried to regain your composure, but it felt way too difficult and you started to work on your hair "I just need a moment, leave me be please."
"If Ivar found out-"
"Ivar knows how diplomacy works, he wouldn't care." You told him and Hvitserk's eyes focused on something over your shoulder before you heard that familiar drawl along with the sound of his crutches.
"And what exactly would Ivar not care?"
You closed your eyes for a moment before opening them and turning around to see Ivar as he sat down the sofa at the corner of the room , his leg braces half done as if you had just interrupted him undoing them. Hvitserk sighed behind you.
"Hello Ivar."
"Hello brother," Ivar's lips turned upwards, "Wife. What's happening?"
"Tell him," Hvitserk told you "I'll be outside in case we decide to kill him. Ubbe is back too, Ivar?"
"He must be in the hall right about now," Ivar answered without taking his eyes off you, and you shifted your weight as Hvitserk left the room. This was one of the very rare moments you two were completely alone and for some reason, your stomach flipped with excitement before you swallowed thickly.
"You're back." You said weakly, taking a step towards him and he nodded,
"Mm hm. Just. What's happening?"
"Nothing."
He raised his brows, "Y/N."
"Do you need help with...?" you motioned at his braces and he shook his head, crossing his arms.
"Who humiliated you?"
"It's not important, Ivar." You muttered as you sat across him, then reached out to help him out of the heavy arm plate but he grabbed your hand and stopped you, making you hold your breath as your eyes snapped up to his piercing blue ones.
"I think I deserve to know if someone upset you," his voice was low and you bit down on your lip, holding his gaze for a couple of seconds before you averted your eyes.
"My brother's messengers arrived," you mumbled, "They do have a strange sense of humor."
"Meaning?"
You shrugged, "Rowan, one of his closest men, he... made a bawdy comment."
"Bawdy?" he repeated, as if he didn't understand the word and you forced yourself to think the word in his own language, but came up empty, seeing that you were still learning his language.
"It means-" you paused, "It means suggestive in a quite indecent way."
Ivar's brows pulled together and he nodded, "I see."
"It's nothing serious," you tried to laugh it off, "It's just... I must've been away from them for a while, I'm sure he didn't mean-"
"Did he make you uncomfortable?" he cut you off, as if the possibility just crossing his mind and you shrugged.
"To be honest, he has made me uncomfortable ever since I heard him and my brother talking about..." you motioned between you two, "He called me- um-" you shook your head "Does not matter, really. I was thinking maybe we could throw a feast or-"
"What did he call you?"
"Ivar-"
"Y/N." his tone was serious, "What did he call you, hm?"
"He didn't know I was listening."
"That's not the answer to my question."
The bitter taste appeared in your mouth but you tried not to make a face as you took a deep breath.
"Heathen's whore." You mumbled with distaste and Ivar's brows rose, as if he was surprised to hear such a word leaving your lips.
"Did he now?"
You took a deep breath, then tried to pull yourself together,
"It honestly does not matter," you attempted to smile, "But um- we should go out soon, I think. It's not very polite to keep people waiting."
Ivar nodded, then slowly, very slowly reached out to touch a strand of your hair, as if he was afraid you would push him away. When you didn't move or even breathe with the concern of ruining the moment, he seemed to gather the courage to gently tuck it behind your ear before his fingertips slipped down to your neck and he withdrew his hand. You swallowed thickly, the sensitive skin of your neck which he grazed his fingers against tingling, almost burning.
"I like your hair like this," he mumbled, as if speaking to himself, "Perhaps you could- you could maybe wear it like this more often?"
If you didn't know better, you could swear this was as close to saying please as Ivar could get and you bit on your lip, your cheeks burning.
"I would like that, actually," you spoke silently, "I don't think I'm very good with braids and girls will grow weary of helping me soon I'm afraid."
That seemed to make him breathe out a chuckle, "Is that so?"
"It's very complex."
"Not really. You can speak five languages and you think braiding is complex?"
"Four and a half," You corrected him "I still don't understand more than half of what your brothers say."
"I don't think my brothers understand more than half of what they say," Ivar shrugged, making you giggle.
"That's not very polite."
"I'm not very polite," Ivar rubbed his fingertips together, as if trying to make the feeling last longer, "And I could teach you."
"Your language?"
"That. And braiding."
"You would grow tired," you made a face, "I'm a terrible student and you're not very patient."
"I can be very patient," his voice was low, as if he was hypnotized but that lasted only for a second before he pulled himself together, "And you're not a terrible student."
You snorted "You all laughed at me when I couldn't lift that sword. Even Ubbe."
"Yes, because Ubbe said we should get you a smaller sword until you get used to it."
You made a face, "No thank you. All shieldmaidens will make fun of me."
"No one can make fun of you."
"You do," You shot him a mischievous look and Ivar shrugged before he made himself busy with his braces before grabbing his crutches.
"I'm going to the hall, are they still there?"
"My brother's men?" You asked and nodded, "Yes, they must be. I will be with you in a second, I just-" You fanned your face with your hand, "I'll be with you."
"Alright," he said as he left the room and you sat down in front of the mirror to look at your reflection, then pressed your fingertips on your neck, biting at your lip hard enough to make it hurt.
You had about five seconds of peace before the sounds coming from the hall distracted you and you pushed your chair back to rush to the hall, then covered your mouth as soon as you reached the entrance as soon as you saw the view.
Two men were holding Rowan by the arms as he struggled against them while the rest of your brother's men looked too terrified to move. Contrary to them, all the Vikings in the hall seemed to have great fun as they watched Rowan while listening to Ivar, and you took a step but was stopped by Hvitserk.
"Hvitserk-"
"Told you he wouldn't like it."
"What-" You swallowed as you tried to make sense of what Ivar was saying but he spoke way too fast and you could only understand a word or two.
There was something about his maker, and a Queen.
His queen.
"What's he saying?"
"Did he really call you a heathen's whore?" Ubbe asked you and you looked between Hvitserk and Ubbe.
"Ubbe, what's he saying-"
It happened in a second. Ivar drove his sword right through Rowan's chest, making you gasp and Vikings cheer before Rowan dropped to the ground, eyes open. You covered your mouth, unable to keep your eyes off him as Ivar stepped over, his face splattered with blood.
"We're killing messengers now?"
"If need be." Ivar answered his brother while you could only stare at him, your heart beating in your ears.
"You were saying something about a feast, yes?" Ivar asked you "Let's throw a feast, it was about time," he grinned, "Ubbe, Hvitserk. A word?"
They left your side and Ivar lingered behind only for a moment before his fingertips grazed your cheek. You could feel the sticky, warm blood on your cheekbone but you couldn't even wipe it off as your arms felt too heavy all of a sudden and you felt as if the hall was spinning around you. You dug your fingernails into your palms, trying to regain your composure and he left the hall to follow Ubbe and Hvitserk.
And you watched as two Vikings lifted Rowan's body and carried it outside while you stood there completely frozen.
"Oh God."