Growing up with Helga and Floki wasn’t always the easiest thing. Building ships was fun, having Floki as a father sometimes as well. Being Helgas daughter meant to be loved by a person that would do anything for you. She took care of her, fed her, spent time with her and even made her father spend more time with her. Thanks to Helga, she and her father grew a bond, even after her sister left too early.
But being their daughter also meant she had to be friends with the youngest prince growing up. He wasn’t easy to be around, but she managed. On the bad days it would end with her almost getting killed by him, but on the good days she enjoyed his company more than any other. They shared a special bond, both telling one another how much they hated each other, while still looking out for one another.
As they grew so did what they felt, the hatred turning into some passion that neither of them understood. Both of them misunderstanding it as hatred. Hatred was a silly thing, a childish thing, same as holding grudges. Aslaug would often invite Helga to feast with them. Helga would often bring her daughter with her. Ivar would stare at her and make her feel that feeling even more intense.
“I don’t like feeling this way…” The girl mumbled while sanding down the wood as she told her father about how the youngest Ragnarsson made her feel. “I just hate him so much, father.” Her father looked at her with raised eyebrows, turning away to continue carving into it, chuckling. “I’m afraid, what you’re feeling, my dear child, is not hatred.” A small knowing smirk on his face as he shook his head.
Shaking her head as well, she stopped in her track. “I don’t think I understand…” Floki laughed before sending her a playful look. “Go help your mother, she wanted to go to the market in Kattegat.” With a sigh she got up, placing a hand on her fathers shoulder, him giving it a soft squeeze before returning to his work. “I’ll bring you some paint to color the ship, once it’s done.” Floki nodded only giving her half of his attention, making her smile.
She wondered what her father meant. What else would the feeling be if not hate? Longing? Shaking her head at her own thoughts she scrunched up her nose. No, never. She wouldn’t long for him. “What troubles you, my dear?” Helga said, noticing how quiet she was on the whole way. The girl being the daughter of Floki and talking just about as much as her father, it worried her. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, mother.” She gave her a small smile looking at the many different flowers growing on the path.
A smile was on Helgas face as she watched her. “Go, child. You needn’t help me, I’ll meet you on the path as the night sets, so we can walk back home, before it gets too dark.” Smiling the girl nodded, promising her mother that she would help her carry everything later on. Following the flowery path into the woods, she barely managed a thought. Her mind spinning around what her father meant. Hearing twigs snap behind her she stopped walking, listening close. Feeling someone come closer she turned around.
The youngest prince following her, crawling on the floor. “Ivar, why are you following me, if you don’t mind me asking?” The boy looked up at her, squinting his eyes at the sun. “Prince Ivar to you and I wasn’t following you, I was simply walking this path myself.” She rolled her eyes before she continued walking, the feeling now leaving as he crawled besides her. “I don’t think I like you.” Ivar mumbled quietly, more to himself than to her. A quiet chuckle escaped her as she shook her head.
“What are you laughing about?” He looked up to her. “Nothing, my prince.” She grinned slightly before taking a turn left walking into a meadow deep in the woods, sitting down. The boy still following her, sitting down besides her. Picking some of the flowers, she didn’t bother looking at him. “What troubles your mind?” He asked, tilting his hand while watching her. “I don’t think I like you..” She said smirking slightly before looking up at him from the flower she held.
His eyebrows furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. She took her shoes off before she got up, chuckling quietly. “I talked to my father about how I don’t like you, I even said I hated you. He only laughed and said that hatred might not be the word for what I felt. I don’t think it’s the word you mean either. I figured it out, but I wouldn’t dare to tell you, you might think I’m insane.” She twirled gently, holding her dress up slightly as she started to dance alone through the growing grass.
He couldn’t tear his eyes off of her, as hard as he tried he felt his chest fill with the feeling again. His lips parted slightly as he watched her, a smile on his lips as he heard her chuckles and giggles. All of the sudden he understood everything. He understood his feelings and he understood what she meant. He didn’t hate her, not even close and he might not love her, but he longed for what it would be like to have her, what it would be like to belong to her.
As she stopped, her hair falling into her face and her eyes falling on him, there was the most beautiful scene he ever saw. Tearing his eyes off of her seemed impossible now. “I take it you finally understand…?” Her feet slowly carried her towards him, as if something pulled her into his presence, pulled her to be near him. A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I believe I do…” His voice low, but filled with the believe that the gods are guiding him in this moment.
She kneeled down, facing him. His hand finding her chest, feeling her beating heart. A small smirk now on his face as his eyes searched for hers. Finding them felt like an explosion, felt like everything fit. “You know I won’t stop teasing you about every little mistake you make or about how much you take after your father.” His voice was barely above a whisper, making her giggle quietly. “I’m proud to be like my father, Ivar, he taught me a lot. I hope you know that I won’t stop complaining over how spoiled you are or how many times you tried to kill me while we were kids…” A grin now spread on his face as he moved his hand up to her cheek, softly letting his thumb trace the black paint on her face.
“You’re beautiful, how do I just realize that just now?” She swatted his hand away. “Don’t wipe it, my mother spent such a long time on it this morning.” He chuckled lightly before smirking, seeing her bite her lip, trying to suppress her smile. “My apologies to Helga then, I didn’t mean to ruin her work.” A chuckle left her lips before she gasped and jumped up quickly. “I forgot about the paint I promised I would get my father!” Quickly she put her shoes back on before kissing his cheek. “You should visit us tomorrow, I want to show you something, my prince.” A grin graced her face as she walked backwards waving at him.
The boy was utterly confused but waved back, chuckling softly. He would need a lot of patience for her, after all she was the daughter of Floki and Helga. His eyes widen as he thought about what just happened and what he just realized. “Oh gods.” He mumbled wiping his hands over his face, closing his eyes falling back into the grass. “This is going to be interesting.”
His destiny. His fate was the exact resemblance of the most insane man in whole Norway.
Hahahahaha Oh Ivar. You big dumb idiot.
This is super cute! I’d love to read more about their interactions
—In which Hvitserk falls for a good church girl, much to the disapproval of her family who finds out and marries her to a no-good, very bad man. I pictured the boards, in order, as their romance’s journey. From their first few times together — alone, flirting —, to their secret meetings — where they talk, eat, and make love —, to her marriage to the other man, and up to the point where Hvitserk — sick of seeing her mistreated and unhappy — kills the man and has to run away.
—The last board kinda doesn’t fit in the story. It’s more of a “reverend who falls for a temptress and has to cold sweat his way through the afternoons drinking tea at her parent’s home” type of thing.
—This is my third entry to @punkrocknpearls’400 Follower Trope Challenge because she deserves only hugs and kisses and lots of nice things Thanks for letting me make you these, even though technically you’re hosting a writing challenge.
ivar acting all mopey and depressed after losing the battle in 5x8 is so funny. he spent the entire previous two episodes playing homoerotic chess games with heahmund, wasting everybody’s time, and then getting his ass handed to him after not doing anything in a battle that he specifically asked for. that’s my guy!
