Ivar the Boneless Imagines

Beacon

Everything had been so tense as of late. From Ivar battling with Ubbe to the constant battle for your friend's dear home, you grew tired of the in and outs of day to day life. So what a surprise it was to receive a rare gift of a beautiful blade adorned in fat garnet from Hvitserk.

"What is this?!" You squeal unraveling it's fluffy covering of foreign wrapping and pull the handle free from its protective covering. The blade was pristine from any marks.

"It might as well be a beacon for Lagertha." Ivar sneers bitterly at the handle. Almost too bitterly, you thought.

"What is it Ivar, are you jealous?" You laugh, hopping out of your seat across from Ivar to brandish the blade up against the rays of the setting sun. The light ricochets off the neck of the blade.

"Tch." Ivar sneers, angling his jaw towards his brother. "Where did you get that, Hvitserk, huh?"

Hvitserk's tongue moistens dry lips. "It was a gift from uncle for her."

It was a gift from Rollo. His head rolls along his neck, noting the delight you took in the news. You hop around Hvitserk on the balls of your bare feet, twirling with your deep red dress lifting up with the wind.

"Ah! A gift from your uncle. You see he knows how fine a warrior I am!" You squeal.

Of course he did. Ivar's fingers rub along the creasing in his forehead out toward the side of his head. "I am too sober to deal with you (Y/N)." He grumbles to himself.

His fingers tighten along his mead when you set your arm on top of Hvitserk's shoulder, the angled tip of the blade pointing towards Ivar. You push off of the makeshift human stoop that was Hvitserk and ease towards him.

"I can't tell if you're jealous or angry, my friend. Or maybe even both?"

In a split second movement, Ivar turned at the waist to drag you into his lap. The sword meets the ground with a clank while his digits form a forceful hold on your hips.

"Have I ever told you... that you talk far too much?"