but Ivar cut him off, “Y/N. yes. it is.” his eyes watched your every movement as you battled against his men. even at a distance it was obvious you were a force to be reckoned with, and Ivar felt his blood racing through his viens with every moment he watched.
he had loved you since the first day he saw you pick up a sword. you had always been beautiful and with a weapon… well, Ivar could die knowing he’d seen a true Valkyrie. yes, you were on the other side, but Ivar still had hope.
he would always have hope, even if he took that hope with him to his grave.
You were smoking not thinking about anything when you saw that black jaguar stopping at your door. You knew it was him before he even left the car, even so you were curious. What he was doing?
You watched Ivar leaving the car in all his glory. Black leather jacket, red shirt e black jeans that made he look so sinfully handsome.
“Hi, Y/N,” he said with a small smile.
“Hello,” you said leaving your cigarette forgotten aside.
“Can you say to Megan that I’d like to talk with her?” he said.
Okay, you should have known better. Obviously Ivar wasn’t there for you, but for your sister, Megan. He didn’t need to say but it was kind obvious he was head over heels for her, probably just like you were for him.
“She just left with Matthew. On a date,” you added like if it was nothing.
“Matthew… A date? Wow. I guess I’m kinda late,” he smiled but different than the other times, his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Good, he was angry.
“I’ll tell her you came here and-”
“There’s no need, it’s okay,” he said.
“Wouldn’t you like to come inside?” you said like it was no big deal. To prove your point a loud thunder echoed through the sky.
“I guess I don’t have another option,” he said shyly.
“Do you need anything? I have beer here,” you said once he was seated in your couch.
“No I-i… Yeah, I’d like it. Please,” he added.
Once you seated with him, handing him a beer you looked attentively at him. He was ridiculously handsome. Everything about him drove you insane. His gorgeous features, the icy blue eyes you’d die for, his smell, the most minimum detail made your heart skip a beat.
“Staring is rude,” he laughed before taking a long sip of the beer.
“I wasn’t… Sorry,” you laughed. You’d have to be more discreet otherwise he would notice the way you looked at him.
“So did you come to confess your feelings for the sweet Megan?” you said dramatically earning a laugh from him.
“Is that obvious?” he asked.
“It’s written all over your face. C'mon, you have heart eyes for her,” you said like it was obvious.
“No, I don’t… Okay, maybe I look at her a bit different,” he admitted.
“A bit?”
“Okay, I fell for her. Satisfied?” he said.
“A bit,” you answered with a small smile.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked curiously.
“It’s nothing… I mean I should be used to this,” you continued.
“To what?"
"Megan always… Had guys like you head over heels for her and she plays with them, with their feelings. I don’t want this for you,” you said.
Part of you was angry to talk about your sister like this, but it wasn’t a lie. Megan was a femme fatale. That included some heartbreaking in the process. It was what she was. A goddamn powerful woman who knew the power she had in hands and put to good use.
The other part? Wanted to be more like her. To be sensual, to attract all the eyes when you enter a room, to break some hearts as well. But you and your sister were like wine and water, didn’t work very well together.
You were clumsy, most of times could be friends with the guy who was interested in you. You were the nerd sister and Megan, the cheerleader, the prom queen.
“Why are you telling me that? What do you want for me, Y/N?” Ivar asked after a long time.
“I think you deserve the true,” you said trying to ignore the goosebumps erupting in your skin hearing him calling your name.
“What do you want for me?” he insisted.
I want you to want me, your insides screamed.
“I want you to be happy with some girl that knows your value and that loves you,” and I want to be this girl, you added in your thoughts.
Ivar smiled to you, a true and beautiful smile. That made your knees weak. And then you realized. He knew it. He didn’t need to say anything, the way he looked at you said it all. He fucking knew it.
Much to your liking in a matter of two seconds and you were in a complete darkness.
“I swear to fucking fuck,” you said mostly to yourself.
“Better now?” he said once his phone’s flashlight was on.
“Thank you,” you said.
“So what were you saying?” Ivar said trying to bring back the subject.
“Forgot it, it’s your life, you give the shots not me,” you said.
“When were you going to tell me?” he asked softly.
“I wasn’t,” you said. You didn’t need to ask what the fuck he was talking about.
“Hey, look at me,” he said. Long fingers reaching for you chin, making you face him.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You looked at those beautiful eyes, silently begging for whoever mysterious force to not lose his friendship.
“It’s been awhile since I noticed, probably that held me. I didn’t talk to Megan sooner because I knew about you, and I didn’t want to hurt you. And probably I lost her because of this,” he said running his hands through his long brown hair.
“You didn’t need to held yourself. I wouldn’t be that hurt… I told you, I’m used to this,” you said.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“What for? To lose your friendship? To make you reject me? No, I was fine keeping those feelings for me. What could I possibly win, Ivar?" you were almost crying at that point.
"Me,” he said. He smiled and caressed your hair softly. “I don’t know what you think about yourself, but you’re beautiful, kind, smart… So irresistible, just like your sister. You two aren’t that different, y'know. But you, Y/N, there’s something else about you. Something that intrigues me. Something that makes me want to be closer and closer to you,” he continued.
At that point breathing was out of question, the air was stuck in your throat because as Ivar talked he leaned closer and closer to you. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, and even wonder how it would be to kiss him right now.
Probably he was thinking the same when he kissed you. Plump lips against yours softly but wanting more. When you felt his tongue caressing your bottom lip, asking for entrance you swore your soul left your body. Because there was no fucking way that this was happening.
But boy, it was. Hot tongue dancing alongside yours, a passionate kiss that he easily dominated. He had both hands on your waistline, gripping firmly, holding you in place. You, on the other way, had shaky hands on his neck, wanting that this moment didn’t end.
But it did. You two were breathless, forehead against one another, icy blue eyes blown with lust.
“Please say we can try,” he said softly.
“Yeah, we can,” you said smiling.
Ivar kissed your forehead and you hugged him. This would work, you knew. You two would be one of that couples that couldn’t be away from one another for such a long time, and honestly, you were so happy with the idea of having an angry puppy like him always close to you.
Ivar knew he would found her waiting for him there, alone, probably reading some book with the sunlight caressing her skin in the most beautiful way. Once he reached her, he smiled. She was really reading. He sat down with her and caressed her hair.
“Hey,” she said with that shy smile that never failed making his heart skip a beat.
“Ready?” he asked. He wished things to be different, that she took him seriously, maybe give them a chance.
Ivar knew he would found her waiting for him there, alone, probably reading some book with the sunlight caressing her skin in the most beautiful way. Once he reached her, he smiled. She was really reading. He sat down with her and caressed her hair.
“Hey,” she said with that shy smile that never failed making his heart skip a beat.
“Ready?” he asked. He wished things to be different, that she took him seriously, maybe give them a chance.
“Actually I wanted to talk to you,” she started.
“What happened?” he asked. Because obviously something was wrong. He could say just by looking at her eyes, the worry clear on them.
“I wanted to know that if it’s okay…” she suddenly stopped talking.
“C'mon, talk to me, my sweet Y/N,” he said touching her chin.
“I’m not in the mood, I’m sorry,” she said, her cheeks blushing a little.
“What happened? It was me?” Ivar asked suddenly worried.
“No, I just… I had another discussion with my mom this morning and she said a few things, y'know? I just wish I had another place to go, I don’t want to look at her, not right now at least. She hurt me,” she talked in such a low tone that Ivar had to pay total attention to her.
“You can come to my house, if you want of course,” he said like it was no big deal.
Immediately her curious eyes scanned his features looking for any signs of joking or anything like that.
“Sure?” she asked.
“I thought we were friends,” Ivar said dramatically.
“Friends don’t have sex,” she answered.
“We can always be friends with benefits,” he smiled.
“You’re such an idiot,” she laughed.
“Funny thing, I don’t remember you saying that kind of thing when my dick was inside of you,” he laughed when she blushed.
“Like I said, idiot,” she emphasized the word.
“C'mon we can watch movies and eat junkie food,” he said.
“Okay you convinced me,” she said with a smile.
***
When you got out of the bathroom you noticed you didn’t have anything to wear. Once you were back in the room Ivar was already laying on the bed, looking for something to watch on Netflix.
“Can I use one of your clothes?” you asked finally gaining his attention.
Okay it’s been awhile since that thing between you and Ivar was happening, but you always blushed under his gaze. It was strange because at the same time you felt the most beautiful woman in the world, you felt so little and helpless, like he was a lion and you were his prey.
“Sure,” he said.
You almost ran to his closet. You decided for one of his band t-shirts and grey sweatpants. You came back to the room and joined him on the bed.
You took some time to look at his room. He had a large variety of books, some of them classic and others were probably in foreign language. His dark room had three of the walls painted in black, and there was a red light that made everything look more attractive, more sensual.
“I never imagined being here,” you said turning your look to him.
“Hope you like, it’s my favourite place,” he said.
You knew Ivar didn’t have much friends, to be honest, he barely talked with other people beyond his brothers and well, you.
“Ivar,” you called him.
“What?” he said.
“Why me? You could have literally any other girl. I mean, you’re unfairly handsome,” you said.
You watched him inhale and exhale a few times, like if he was thinking about what to say.
“You’re different than any other girl I already met. When we had to do that ridiculous task together I saw that, and… I wanted more. I wanted to know you, to have you,” he said.
“So am I kinda of a prize to you? Something you wanted badly and-”
“I didn’t say that. I said that I wanted to know you, to be close to you. I never considered you like a prize. Because let’s be honest, I’m not that good, not to have you,” he said.
“What do you mean? Because we, well… We have sex quite often and…” you asked.
“Yes but think about it, we could have so much more than just sex. I mean the sex is great but… You understood,” he said.
You took some time to think about what he was saying, what he truly wanted. Did that mean that he wanted something else? Maybe a real relationship? Okay, Ivar wasn’t the type of guy that sent flowers and all the cute stuff, but he always watched over you, always was more worried in you, in your interests, in what you want, in your pleasure…
“Ivar, I…” at that point you didn’t know what to say anymore.
“Why don’t you sleep a little? I know you were crying in the bath, I heard,” he said softly.
“I… What about you?” you asked.
“I didn’t invite you here to have sex. I know how bad you get once you and your mother fight. I just want to comfort you. I won’t do anything, I promise,” he said.
“Thank you,” you said.
***
You woke up desperate looking for you phone when you saw it was just 8 PM you wanted to throw it against the wall. You shifted in the bed and finally saw that Ivar was sleeping as well, the book he was reading was open against his tattooed chest and he was still wearing glasses.
You slowly moved closer to him, picked the book and put it aside and when you were almost taking his glasses he woke up. Icy blue eyes staring at you.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry,” you said.
“It’s okay. What time is it?” he asked yawning.
“8,” you answered.
“Want to eat something?” he asked checking on his phone.
“No, I’m fine,” you said.
“Can we go back to sleep?” he said laying properly on the bed.
“Yeah, we should,” you said looking at him.
Ivar reached for your body, strong arms involving your waist and pulling you closer.
“Thank you for everything you’ve been doing to me,” you whispered.
He opened his eyes and looked at you, curious eyes scanning your face.
“No need to thank me,” he said as traced your features with his fingers.
He didn’t need to do anything at that moment to make your heart race its own beats. When this started, you knew it wouldn’t be nothing but some great sex, but now? Oh girl, at that moment you already knew Ivar was the one. Your heart was his and something in your insides told you, his heart was yours as well.
“I want to kiss you so badly right now,” you said chuckling.
Ivar in the other hand was serious. He leaned closer to you, plump lips meeting yours in what started as a calm kiss. Tongues touching one another smoothly, hands tangling together. It didn’t take long to you moan on his mouth. Body getting hotter and hotter, wanting his touch, wanting to be his.
“You came here to seduce me, right? Such a bad girl,” he said slapping your thighs, hands grabbing the soft skin so hard that you moaned loudly.
“Ivar, please,” you said while you still could think coherently.
“What? Tell me what you want,” he said.
I want you to ravish me, you thought looking mesmerized at him. Under his gaze you always felt the prettiest and most desired woman on earth.
“I want you to fuck me,” you said simply. Thinking about it was enough to make heat pool between your legs.
“I see that. Everything in you tells me this. You want me so bad… Exactly the same way I want you,” he said close to your ear. Hot breath tickling your skin.
Like if he needed to prove a point, he pressed his growing erection against your thigh. He smiled when he saw you breathing heavily and closing your eyes, a loud moan trying to pass through your closed lips.
Much to your dislike Ivar took his time with you. Slowly so slowly he took your clothes off, kissing every exposed centimeter he got it.
“So beautiful,” he said touching both of your breasts, palming them softly just the way you liked. Hot mouth involving your nipples, one at time, prolonging that blissful attack. Licking, sucking and biting, the recipe to drive you crazy.
He nestled between your legs and started kissing your inner thighs. Here and there biting them.
“Ivar, please,” you knew you were sounding desperate.
“Want me here?” he said touching your slick folds, playing with your wetness.
“Yes,” you moaned arching your body as answer.
Ivar smiled before finally putting his mouth on you. Skillful tongue working on your pleasure, strong hands forcing your legs open so he could have espace to do whatever he wanted to you. And boy, he did. He fucked you with his tongue, with his fingers but he didn’t make you cum, no he preferred to have you clenching around him, moaning his name on nonstop like a prayer.
He aligned himself in your entrance and in one smooth movement he was inside you. At that moment breathing calmly was out of the question.
“You’re mine,” he said standing still inside you.
“I’m yours,” you confirmed.
Ivar smiled and then finally started moving. Slowly at first, but soon his insane pace was settled. Hips burying themselves on yours, making your body burn in pure desire for him.
Your closed your legs on his waist, allowing him to get even deeper inside you. Touching that sweet spot repeatedly, making you roll shut your eyes.
“Look at me,” he groaned.
And when you looked at him, he caressed your face.
“I want to see when you fall apart.”
At that moment you knew you were lost. Ivar used his arms as leverage to keep that furious pace. You knew it wouldn’t take you to long to your orgasm hit you like a train.
“Ivar, oh fuck!” You moaned. The growing pressure in your lower belly only grew.
“Come to me,” he said.
And obviously your body attended his command. You came trembling from head to toes, moaning his name. Nails finding his back and scratching him in the process. Ivar came right after you, not resisting to the way your pussy clenched around him.
He took some time still inside you trying to catch up his breath. When he finally moved he pulled you closer to him.
“Y/N, I…” he started.
You looked at him, mind still blurring too lost in pleasure.
“I don’t know how to say that,” he laughed nervously.
You waited for him to organise his thoughts, you were tracing the tattoos on his chest.
“I want more than this, I… I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said looking at you. His eyes were almost screaming “say yes, please”.
“Nothing would make me more happy than this,” you said.
He didn’t need words to answer, he hugged you tightly.
“I’ll make you happy, I promise,” he said.
“I already am when I’m with you,” you smiled.
You closed your eyes drifting to sleep happily. You knew that you and Ivar would make it. Honestly you couldn’t be happier with the fact that you were his girl, truly.
Summary: As a part of his therapy, Ivar writes letters to unwind and keep track of his mental health progress. He writes to his mom, he misses her. He writes to Sigurd, sometimes he regrets his departure. One night, he writes about her.
Warnings: Angst
Words: 3864
A/N: (3/5/20) I had this idea in my head that I simply could not let go.
(10/4/21) P.S: Can’t promise I’m back, but I’m definitely turning to writing as a way of winding down. I hope you guys are alright.
Some nights, while the city sleeps, Ivar stays awake. Like an owl looking for a prey, the Ragnarsson remains seated upright at the edge of his bed, his now heavily tattooed chest exposed to the world through the panoramic window, heaving. Beating.
Some nights were amazing. He got his drivers license, and Freydis got him an adapted Bentley as a gift. He would spend the nights driving by himself down the empty streets of Kattegat, not worrying about speeding tickets or angry neighbours.
Not so long ago, he learned his wife was finally carrying a child, her round belly reminding him that he had a legacy to keep, now that the Lothbrok dynasty seemed to be more fragmented than ever. After spending thousands of krone on in vitro fertilisation, the universe seemed to work in his favour. Their favour. If the gods were unwilling to bless them two, science would. These were the nights that were made for celebrations, champaign showers and water for the mother to be.
Some nights were alright. Ivar would come back after a long day of meetings and getting his ass kissed, to find Freydis immersed in her little personal projects. He would tell Erik to pick up some takeaway while he washed away the power and wrapped himself in mundane clothes. He would eat in silence, elbows propped on the counter and eyes on the horizon, watching the sun kiss the skyscrapers goodbye as he mindlessly put food in his mouth. Then he would take his new baby for a ride, to the bar he now owned with his brother Hvitserk.
Ivar would go there, check the inventory and the register, ask the employees how everything was going and what could he do for them. Sometimes he would also find Hvitserk at the bar, practicing the cocktail skills he had been mastering since he took over your share of the bar. Ivar would simply walk past, not entirely avoiding making contact with his sibling but prefering to keep a healthy distance from the person that substituted you. He started visiting the local more often after you left, feeling the responsibility to continue what you started. He found peace in the simplicity of managing a bar: at the office, he was a tyrannic boss, voice always booming through the walls, keeping both employees and investors in check. At the bar, he was just the young lovestruck Ivar he once was. He understood then, why you wished to escape from it all. You are just a memory now, but sometimes he still feels you around, checking on the girls, checking on him.
Some nights were… Painful. Therapy had a big presence in his life. He no longer needed a cane thanks to nurse Hansen, his physical therapist. But on some days, the stress and the weather would simply take a toll on his legs, forcing him to carry around that metal stick that reminded him that he was, in fact, human.
Before you left, Freydis figured out a question that would calm Ivar down and make him focus: “What would Dr. Nielsen tell you to do?”. That was how she got him to control himself and open up the last time he was onstage, the night she met you. They were just engaged back then. Oh, how quick did time pass. Ivar no longer organised events like that. He was too consumed by his two jobs. There were nights where Freydis would be on business trips, or out hanging out with friends until the next morning, nights where absences were felt more than presences. But he was coping now. Dr. Nielsen helped the youngest Lothbrok greatly since his great breakdown.
Ivar had thought he physically felt his heart break the night he got down the stage to find you, only to figure out you were gone after most of the guests had left the hotel ballroom. He felt compelled to call you dozens of times to ask for an explanation. After his calls went unanswered, he decided to drive around town in search of you, not knowing where to start, not knowing where to ask, anger poisoning his brain and taking over his actions. That night he stayed at Loki’s after barging in to see if you were hiding there like “the coward you were”. He hated the fact that you could make him feel that weak. It felt like he was putty and Freydis was fire, hardening him the more he was exposed to her. You were water, turning him into a pliable being, at mercy of your actions.
For five days in a row, he found himself staying at his office until late at night, observing his office telephone with attention and indecision, silently praying for you to pick up the phone, practicing the rage filled words he was about to rain down on you the moment you uttered a response. He prayed with ill intentions, but he prayed nonetheless. It was his last resort.
The earth seemed to crack open and swallow him whole the moment he gathered all his courage and dialed your number, only to hear an automated voice telling him that the number no longer existed. He sat there, phone on his hand as a white noise took over the voice message, thinking about the different possibilities that could have happened for you to cancel your line. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I really asked for too much this time.
“Fuck no,” Ivar reflected out loud as he tossed his phone away, “In no fucking way this is my fault.”
“Ivar?” A distant voice reverberated through the glass corridors. It sounded familiar. The youngest Ragnarsson frowned, weirded out by the fact that one of his brothers was still in the office this late.
It wasn’t just one of his brothers, but the three of them.
“Freydis called us asking where you were. You’ve been out late at night for many days in a row, she literally just confronted each one of us asking whether you were having an affair.” Hvitserk said, arms crossed as he leaned on the door frame. “That woman nearly dragged each one of us out to look for you.” Ivar pursed his lips, outraged by such accusations from his then fiancée.
“Well, tell her I’d never do such thing.” He answered, swatting his hand in annoyance. “I am surprised she came to that conclusion, knowing how busy I always am as the bloody CEO!” He exclaimed, letting the following silence fill the room as he flashed a disdainful look towards his brothers.
“Why are you here, brother?” Ubbe finally dared to ask, observing his youngest sibling sway in his chair from side to side.
Ivar looked up for a brief moment, like a puppy who lost his favourite toy, and decided to tell them the whole story. That the had the hunch you were back from a strange event where someone knocked on his penthouse door. To that, Ubbe awkwardly shifted in his place, still listening intently. Ivar explained that he sent you an invite to his inaguration gala and how he asked you to stay for his speech so you could have a dance afterwards, unaware of the utterly personal turn his speech would take just because an old man decided to drink a bit more than usual that night. How he waited for you, called you and looked for you tirelessly, frustration filling his voice as he talked about how you had been avoiding him for a week now, changing your phone number in the process.
“If she thinks she can avoid me by changing numbers she’s dead wrong. We’re business partners, for fucks sake!” He complained, registering the situation as a burden. “I’ll find her new phone sooner or later.”
Unbeknownst Ivar, tension had been gradually building up as he spoke, his three brothers standing still in their places, not knowing how to break the news. Sure they knew this day would come, but none of the three expected to be trapped with the ticking bomb. It was way too soon. Too recent.
Hell, it was about you. It was most likely no amount of time would soften the blow.
Ubbe took a step forward, leaning on the hardwood desk. With a resigned tone, he mumbled:
“She’s gone, Ivar.” He swallowed. “(Y/n) left Kattegat.”
Already motionless before, Ivar remained still. He darted his eyes to look at his brother, confusion and fear brewing within him, fueling a fire he thought it was extinguished the day he made Sigurd leave. With trembling lips but a determined voice, he asked how did he know. How did Ubbe Ragnarsson, the brother who would stab his youngest sibling in the back at the slightest opportunity, know the whereabouts of his woman, while he sat there completely lost, disoriented.
With an attempt of a soothing voice, Ubbe confessed that months ago he offered you a job position to work on a humanitarian project he had running in Haiti. Aslaug had stated in her will that she wished to expand the non-profit organisation she created to other countries and Ubbe decided to make his deceased mother’s wish come true. He told Ivar that while you rejected the offer at first, you ended up accepting it the night of his gala. That you made him promise to make the process fast and discreet, and that, while you insisted on paying for the plane tickets, Lothbrok Inc. paid for your travel expenses and necessities. You left three days ago, unnanounced, with only Ubbe at the airport to bid you farewell.
Hvitserk, who remained silent all this time, let him know that you were no longer the owner of the bar you opened together. At that, Ivar panicked, his eyes wide open as he snapped his head towards his older brother. You simply signed a transfer contract, with Ubbe as the witness and five krone as the contingency, stating that you were returning the property to Lothbrok Inc., thus paying your debt to the family and releasing yourself from any ties to Ivar. He tried to soften the blow, letting him know that he didn’t know you gave him your share because you were leaving. He thought it was a rash decision that stemmed from seeing Ivar with a fiancée, that you’d come back and take back the business when you were ready. He promised he’d take care of the bar as well as you took care of it, that nothing would change under his management.
Ivar listened intently, motionless. His breathing was deep, yet steady. He never moved a muscle voluntarily, but his nostrils flared with every breath and his hand, hidden under the desk, shook incontrollably as he processed their words. His piercing gaze was focused on the oldest Aslaugsson, who was now relaxing and straightening his back as he regained his composure.
It felt like every action happened in slow motion, yet the blow came fast. In mere seconds, Ivar had propped himself forward from the chair, one of his hands grabbing the jacket Ubbe was wearing while the other, contracted in a fist, made contact with his right cheek. That is when Bjorn, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped in, grabbing the torso of his youngest brother as he struggled to keep himself standing, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.
Sometimes, Ivar still hears his own screams.
“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” Ivar accused, eyes absent of tears but voice cracking at the end of the sentence. “SHEWAS GOING TO STAY,” He roared, fists swinging towards his brother’s face. “AND YOU FUCKING TOOK HER FROM ME!”
He lost it that night. The screams he released came from the depths of his sorrow, his eyes only registering red while all his nerves could only feel the desperation taking over his soul. Ivar kept trying to reach Ubbe, unaware of how he repeatedly banged his legs against the desk as Bjorn tried to pin him down.
But what started as a justified outburst gradually led to nonsensical, rage-filled accusations.
“You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you? You wanted her and you couldn’t stand the fact that she chose ME!” Ivar recriminated, grabbing a sharp glass ornament and throwing it to his brother. Ubbe pursed his lips, dodging the improvised weapon. “You did this to get back at me, hmm? YOU WANT ALL I HAVE, DON’T YOU?” He seethed, eyes and mouth wide open, exposing his teeth like a menacing predator as he let out a guttural laugh.
Bjorn was having a difficult time restraining him. Years relying on his upper body strength gave Ivar the advantage of resilience amongst his biggest sibling, while Bjorn struggled to keep him in place. Ivar managed to grab the second glass ornament, throwing it as he shrieked.
“DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” his voice boomed in the room, palm pounding his chest as his free hand signaled the whole place. “YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME, I AM IVAR LOTHBROK! YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!” Ivar kept shouting, cursing as he spat towards Ubbe.
Hvitserk stepped forward, having seen enough, ready to take on his little brother. To his surprise, Ubbe halted him, his arm creating a barrier between Hvitserk and Ivar as he observed with intent and horror etched on his face.
That night, Ivar lost the little progress he made. He broke his femur, dignity left behind as an ambulance carried him to the emergency room.
As if that wasn’t enough, he lost another family member to Lagertha that night.
With a reedy voice as he laid down in the hospital bed, he asked Ubbe one thing:
“Bring her back.” He whispered, his eyes stuck in the ceiling, pretty certain that if he laid his eyes on his brother, he would kill him. “She is working for Lothbrok Inc. now. Bring her back.” His request was met with silence. “That’s an order.” He swallowed, nostrils flaring with each ticking second.
“I’m sorry, Ivar.” Ubbe mumbled. “The Sigurðdóttir Trust is out of your reach.” He reminded him, reopening a wound that Ivar closed not so long ago. “That’s what mother wished.” Ivar snapped his head at the mention of his beloved mother. The brim of his eyes were red like his sclera, a menacing gaze stabbing his brother as Ivar grabbed his wrist.
“You have three days to gather your stuff and leave Lothbrok Inc.” Ivar seethed as he moved his face closer to his brother. “If you’re not gone after that, I will make sure you’ll leave the premises crawling like I crawled as a child.” Ivar swore, releasing his wrist as he let his head drop back to the sterile pillow.
Up to this day, Ivar still saw Ubbe’s action as a huge betrayal. He knew his older brother would return to his life as the new addition of Lagertha’s legal team, Bjorn granted his little brother this little backup plan.
Tonight, his thoughts weighted a little heavier. His eyes scanned the city before focusing on his bedroom, where he finds the clothes he wore today discarded on the leather chair. Behind him, his wife slept peacefully, her baby bumb protuding more and more each passing day. His legs were alright, but with the absence of physical pain he could sense his yearning looming over his head.
Ivar sighs and stands up silently, his bare feet and metallic support dragging on the tiles as he moved to his home office.
Dr. Nielsen taught him the importance of adapted emotional releases. She actively discouraged Ivar from indulging in his impulses and told him to write them down instead. For business meetings, Ivar was told to count until 10, 20 or even 30 if he was encountered with bad news. When it came to personal affairs, Dr. Nielsen told him to write letters addressed to the pertinent subject. Ivar could write them and discard them, write them and take them to therapy or he could write them and send them to the addressee.
It wasn’t the most effective exercise, but it kept his flame at bay. He needed to learn to do that, now that he knew he had a little one coming soon.
Sometimes he wrote to his mother, asking her questions about ruling an empire he wished he had the answer to. Those he kept, as a tool to reflect later on when his ambition peaked. The more emotional ones he’d take to Dr. Nielsen, a proof of his progress on his journey to… normalcy. The ones he wrote to Sigurd, those he threw away. In those pages filled with guilt and rage, he found himself cornered in a bleak past that seemed to refuse to let him go.
Tonight, he thought about you.
It wasn’t like you weren’t a constant presence in his mind, like an annoying tenant in his brain that refused to leave or pay rent. Ivar just chose to remember the best parts of you, those who could be found at the bar you owned, or on his bed when Freydis left him for the night. If he kept you alive that way, he would also keep alive that part of him he thought he lost. You were inevitable, like the pain after a blow or the kiss after a reencounter.
He wishes he could blame you. For leaving, for stepping outside the gala without waiting for your dance. For silently giving away your shares to Hvitserk, who the only thing he knew about bars was how to empty the alcohol pantry. But there is a part of him that cannot physically repulse you.
Ivar sits down and turns on the desk lamp in front of him. He finds his precious pen and puts a piece of paper on the desk. Before starting, he hesitates.
Dear (Y/n),
He groans, crossing the two words with disdain.
Hello.
“Hello?” Ivar shakes his head, crossing the word again.
Hi, princess.
Ivar cringes. No.
Frustrated, he discards the paper. He had done it before. Why was it so hard to do it all over again now?
Just… Jump right in. Start from the beginning, start from the middle, start from the end if you prefer. He recalls the advice of his therapist. Sometimes, formalities are overrated.It may help when you have nothing to say, but it becomes a burden when you got too much to say. Ivar reflected.
And so he did.
Every night I drive through the streets of Kattegat I find myself looking for you wandering around, looking for me to give you a lift, for the memory of our first reencounters were the ones that helped us find redemption.
It is weird, but I still have the need to find you even though I know you are no longer here. The idea of you lives in my head, that I am sure of. The feel of you, that is what I miss.
I guess part of me feels like I still need to apologise for something that I’ve done.
At the sight of his words written on paper, Ivar blinks. He never consciously thought much more ahead of his negations, his feelings dictating the perspectives he kept imposing to his reality.
He sacrificed so much for you. He tried to change for you. He went to therapy, he learned to walk. Ivar tried to become the right man for you, he really tried.
He wished you were there to see it.
Ivar doesn’t really know what he did wrong. All he knows is…
And now that you’re gone for good,
He shakes his head, crossing the last two words.
all I wish for is to be in the wrong this time.
Ivar huffs in frustration.
I wish I had been selfish, I wish I was the old Ivar. I wish I had begged you to stay, to manage this empire I never chos- by my side.
I know you would have never wanted this.
But I know you would have never said no to us.
Mindlessly, Ivar puts his pen in his mouth, a subconscious tick he developped not-so recently. Passing his hands through his hair, he sighed.
I started to smoke. He confessed. I know you never liked the smell, how it clings to my clothes, my mouth, how it lingered around the house when my brothers decided to have one one in their rooms. Ivar snorts at the memory. Not that you’re here to tell me off.
Freydis has been buying candles, they’re all around the house now. The smell of the cigarettes blends with the essences and I technically get to have fire dispensers in every single room.
“Maybe I’m waiting for you to magically show up and tell me to fuck off.” He whispers.
Suddenly, Ivar shakes his head, as if the physical gesture cleared his mind.
I guess I’ll have to stop soon, I have a baby on the way. He releases an airy laugh as he re-reads what he just wrote. Who would have thought, (Y/n)? A baby. Me. Your Ivar.
The young Ragnarsson lets out a tired sigh, strenghening his grip on the metalling pen as he mindlessly tapped on the crystal desk. With resigned resolution, he decides to write his last lines, telling himself that he is finally starting to accept reality.
I know you’re not going to come back. Not to the place we grew up at, at least.
If you ever do, I just want to let you know, as sappy as it may sound, that my heart will always be open for you, even when my arms are not.
I miss you.
I miss us.
Take care,
Ivar.
Dropping the pen, Ivar stares at his letter. His hands blindly search for an envelope, a frown etched on his face until his fingertips brush against the soft surface of the letter. You don’t know, but he found your new address. He searched around Ubbe’s old files.
With a careful manner, Ivar writes down your address on the envelope.
He stands up, walks to his living room and grabs a jacket as he makes his way to the exit.
All of the sudden he stops right on his tracks, his free hand almost reaching to the door handle. Freydis seemed to have forgotten to put out a lone candle, a tiny fragrance dispenser resting on the entrance drawer.
Ivar may not be aware of a lot of things in life, but one thing he was certain of: smoke traveled faster than mail.
His hand was trembling slightly, but it managed to follow his instructions. With a swift move, Ivar positioned the ephemeral piece of paper on the fire, watching intently how the flames consumed his words and took them to you. Discreetly, he threw the burning letter in the empty bin, the lid cutting short the trail of smoke escaping from the container.
He makes sure ashes are all what it remains from his indecent confession and makes his way back to the bedroom. Slowly but steadily, Ivar returns to bed, nesting himself between the sheets before holding his beloved wife in his embrace.
Tonight, he was human. Tomorrow, he’ll have to be a God.
The end.
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