#his infernal majesty

who made him sad

same energy

Scorpio vibe

Thank you for reading && all the lovely comments. We’re getting to the good parts, I swear. 

Also, if you asked me to tag ya before and I forgot - my apologies, please poke me again so I can add you from this point on!

Read the previous: Expo, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags:

@youbloodymadgenius​, @poisonous00 , @youaremyfamiliar , @castielsangelsx , @lol-haha-joke​ ,@readsalot73​ , @love-all-things-writing​ , @xceafh​

TW: None really. 

The days that followed Erik’s execution were stressful. As soon as Ivar was done unleashing his wrath on the warrior who dared to step out of line - Y/N assumed he’d satisfy his need for revenge and his thirst for blood. But surprisingly enough, the opposite seemed to happen. Ivar was becoming increasingly frustrated, upset and volatile. He’d lash out, break things, train in the woods for hours on end. Most of all, he’d avoid Y/N and barely seek to engage her in any sort of interaction.

Sitting in her bed, Y/N caressed her wooden cross with a delicate finger as she tried to replay the events that followed Erik’s death that night.

“Come closer Y/N. Help me wash away my sins.”

His voice taunted her, haunting her conscious mind at all hours of the day. Then, as the sun set on another day in bitter-sweet captivity, the unique sound of his walk would reach her cautious ears. Those crutches thumping against the ground. The sound they made when put down as his bed squeaked. Y/N bit her lip and fought off the fantasies. The fantasies one simple, yet sinful collision, had planted within her. 

His voice hummed softly in her ears as she grabbed the cloth, dipping it in the warm waters. If her soul belonged to an element, she thought, it’d have been water. Ivar’s was fire, no doubt. They were so very different. Her conscious mind mused as her eyes wandered to the man sitting on his bed, a little too close, and a little too eager to rid himself of his clothes. 

At that point Y/N was done lying to herself. She craved intimacy. She craved what all men and women craved by nature regardless of their color, religion or alliance. 

Her hand trembled across his chest as blood began to mix with water. Her eyes studied his blood-spattered torso with hypnotic fascination. The symbolic irony in the thought of water = her soul, cleansing blood = Ivar’s sins, was not lost on her. Ivar didn’t say anything, he just stared at her through a pair of large blue eyes, and for the first time she saw something else in them…could it be…caution?

Dipping the blood-soaked cloth back into the waters, she squeezed over and over, making the cloth clean again. As soon as she pulled it out once more, intending to continue, Ivar spoke. “I remember my mother used to do this a lot.” His voice sounds far off. “She is the only one who ever loved me, you know.” suddenly his voice sounds vulnerable and Y/N swears it’s about to crack. What would she do if he cried now? The thought is absolutely heartbreaking. Especially because it is not true. And she wants to tell him he’s wrong. She want to tell him she…too.

Opening her mouth to speak, he waits. He leans forward, his eyes shifting between the cloth floating in the air between them, then her slightly parted lips. His eyes drink the sight of her lips with wonder and curiosity and desperation. He wants her to say something. But Y/N backs down. Instead, her hand finds his right pectoral and begins to move in slow and steady circles. She notices the movement under his chest as he sucks the air in, but in a flash Ivar’s hand is behind her neck and he forces their mouths together. 

His mouth is demanding as a soft sigh escapes him. The hand that holds her against him is firm, but the lips that open on top of hers are in no hurry, just in great need. 

For a moment everything goes black. Y/N forgets how to breath. Inhaling, all she can allow into her is Ivar. His breath feels cold, like smelling a snowball. He tastes crisp.

Mere seconds stretch onto months or years, she’s not entirely sure. But the moment feels longer than her entire period in the Scandinavian captivity. Ivar groans as his hand tightens its grip of her neck for a split second, then he lets go. But his mouth is hungry, relentless. He’s been waiting for this moment for far too long, and is now determined to make it last as long as she’d allow it.

Y/N pulls back too soon. What a fool I’ve been. She shakes her head when the memory strikes again. How she pulled back, stammering, shaking her head in disapproval. 

“My god would not be happy about this, Ivar.” she says as her eyes harden. They take in every bit of the mesmerizing sight before her. His lean torso is almost shaking, his chest heaving with labored breathing, his hands in fists. Those careful eyes are now blue flames full of arousal and want. No trace of a once cripple boy, he’s now all man. 

“Well, I do not see him here, Y/N. Do you?” he asks, a mixture of hurt and anger in his voice as he spreads his hands and looks around. “Where is your god now, Y/N? Where was he when I took a man’s life, if it’s so wrong?” he continues to spit venom as if he’s looking for an answer that would make sense on her face. There is no answer. 

At that moment, even her faith is lacking - if not lost, altogether.

Made me lol

Please comment if you like, always love to hear your thoughts & suggestions!!!<3

Also, if you asked me to tag ya before and I forgot - my apologies, please poke me again so I can add you from this point on!

Read the previous:Expo,Part 1,Part 2,

Tags:

@youbloodymadgenius​,@poisonous00,@youaremyfamiliar,@castielsangelsx,@lol-haha-joke

TW: NSFW, execution. 

Ivar seemed to be taking his sweet time as the scenario unfolded before him. His face was almost expressionless, nonchalant, showing little to no emotion in those deep ocean eyes. They altered between the nun’s almost naked body and Erik’s terrified face - the man looked like he was staring at the angel of death right in the face.

But under the surface Ivar wasn’t as calm as he’d portrayed himself to be. Underneath the surface he was seething. Someone was trying to steal his beloved and most precious prize. Because that’s all she was to him, right? A tiny voice inquired in his head. Just a prize. A means to an end. A tiny lapdog or a lamb he could drag around on a leash, to keep him entertained when he was bored. No, Y/N was not just that - and Ivar has been lying to himself for quite some time now. 

Granted, he liked the stories. The tales about the Christian god and all the miracles he performed. His heathen heart sped up just a tad bit in her presence when he felt the strength of her belief whenever she clutched onto the simple wooden cross hanging from her neck. He allowed it because however insignificant this little piece of wood was - to her it seemed priceless. More precious than any piece of silver and gold they robbed from the temples. 

“I’m going to make an example out of you, Erik.” Ivar said eventually, his tone deceptively even. Almost musical. “Get up. Y/N. Get up.” he prompted the nun. An expression of sheer horror flashed across his face, but the warrior did not speak. “Walk out. Walk out now.” Ivar instructed, and Erik obeyed without another world, looking every bit like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

“Fix yourself, nun. Then join us. You should see this too.” Ivar said without even taking his eyes off of his new prey.

Y/N adjusted herself shakily, covering every bit of skin that was revealed to the lecherous man that was about to meet his ruthless end soon, for his crime. A part of her almost pitied him because overtime, she had learned to know Ivar and what he could be like when someone had tried to take away his toy. The thought that she was merely a toy to him hurt, a lot. But she had a feeling it was going to hurt Erik much much more.

By the time Y/N walked out, joining the roaring crowd outside, she could spot Ivar standing in the middle of the circle. His men stood behind him and Erik was kneeling on the floor. She had heard of the blood eagle before - terrifying tales of betrayal never going unpunished. Of lungs being pulled out and spines exposed, left out to freeze all night - only to be snapped like a twig at the crack of dawn. 

At first she couldn’t see too well, but Ivar’s hands were clearly preoccupied. She could see his face though. And his face wore an expression of great effort. The closer she grew, the more she could hear. The sound of cracking bones over the laughter and cheering of the people was barely audible at first. But once her eyes registered the sight before her - it was all she could hear.

Ivar was removing Erik’s fingers one by one. With each finger he tore off, another roar of agony pierced the cold night air. He threw them into a pile at Y/N’s feet without even looking at her. How strange. It was almost like he could sense her presence, somehow. 

Erik fell forward, the snow around him now stained crimson red. He sobbed, his long hair hiding a good portion of his face. “Good god.” Y/N’s voice betrayed her just when Ivar’s eyes found hers. All these contradicting emotions were raging inside her. Horror. Gratitude. Disgust. Mercy. Anger. 

Ivar’s eyes are hollow as he tears them away from her, raising his bloodied hands as if he was intending to hug his blood-thirsty crowd. They’re cheering for him. They love their fearless leader. 

He smiles for a split second. Revealing his lovely pearly whites that she’s learned to appreciate over time. But she knows his charm is just a beautiful mask. He is a killer.“Let every man, woman and child in Kattegat know!” He roared out of the blue, catching his crowd off guard. “This is the price you pay for trying to steal what is mine. And Erik’s end is nowhere near, although I’m sure he wishes it to be.” Ivar announced, stepping closer to the fingerless man bleeding on the ground.

“By the time I will be done with him, he will beg for death.”

At one point Y/N looks away, but Ivar makes her watch. His roar is more than enough to let her know he means business. So she continues to watch as Erik transforms into…something she can barely recognize. 

When his voice finally dies down every tear on Y/N’s face has dried off. His soul, as she believed, left his body - and all that was left behind was an exceptionally messy meat suit. The thought makes her want to hurl.

Once the crowd is dispersed Ivar takes Y/N’S hand, leading her back into the hall and through his bedroom. A slave girl soon rushes over with water and clothes. Noticing the cleaning tools, Y/N turns to look at Ivar, only to realize there is blood everywhere - on his neck, his forearms, his chest. Ivar begins to remove his blood-splattered clothes and for a few moments he acts like she doesn’t exist, like he’s all alone. Y/N watches silently. 

Eventually he speaks. 

“I would like to know what you must be thinking of me right now, nun.” He says, and the way he expresses the word “nun” makes her uneasy. Clearing her throat, Y/N speaks. “I…am in awe. Speechless.” she admits. Ivar doesn’t seem happy. His expression is unreadable, blocked. 

“Have you got nothing to say?” he asks after a long moment, his eyes looking like hard pebbles. 

Eyeing the slavegirl, Y/N is uncomfortable, unwilling to speak freely. Ivar nods and eyes the girl as she intends to move closer to wash him. “Leave us.” he commands and the girl scurries away. 

“I’m grateful…but…executions aren’t something to be taken lightly in my world, Ivar.” Y/N explains. The thought of a life being taken so swiftly, so brutally. An entire lineage being cut off as if one had merely plucked a blade of grass. Nothing more.

“Yes, we’ve spoken of this before many times.” Ivar muses, then eyes the cloth and pot of water that was left beside his bed. He sits down and eyes Y/N wearily for a long moment before reaching out a hand.

“Come closer Y/N. Help me wash away my sins.”

Cto Paul harries