A/N: Dark Reader, Murder, Threesome
The defeat of Lagertha changed Hvitserk.
It wasn't for the better. As his wife, you noticed the way he was acting. Your sunshine boy had gotten darker– more heated, more angry. He was still your sweet Hvitserk when you were in bed with him, but if you were being honest, you felt as if you were on a leash. One so tight that at times you felt like you were choking near his hand.
"Let me help you with that." A man with sunshiney fresh locks came beside you. His hair swept under the glittering light of Kattegat's sweet sunlight as you walked up from the beachside waters.
"Please, Tyr. I asked you to stay away from me. Didn't you learn last time?" You say with hurried breath as you run back for Kattegat's gates that were being constructed. Your hands kept a hold on the pole which held water on either side.
"You think him punching me out is gonna do shit?" Tyr bounded ahead of you on his heels, walking backwards as you walk up.
"You don't know what he can do." You say. Tyr snuffs that knowledge, dipping around you to swipe the pole off your shoulders in one hand. His other hand swipes up your waist.
"Yeah whatever. C'mon baby." Tyr slides you close.
"No, Tyr please give me that back." You reach upon your tippy toes to reach. Tyr bends his head to bump your noses together, the silvery grey hues of his eyes catching yours. You want to scream at him– explain how you don't want this when your suddenly relieved of looking into those eyes that are sharp as Hvitserk's blade.
"The fuck are you doing around my woman?"
The voice is a deep hiss. You don't need to look to know who it is. Hvitserk's fist has dug so deeply into Tyr's blonde locks, twisting him around to shove him into the arms of another Viking man that accompanied you. The thralls around quickly take note of when to make themselves scarce, heading back toward the gates of Kattegat.
"Hvitserk that wasn't what it looked like!" You call out to him, finding that he's purely ignoring your presence. He's been dying to do this since the last time your little ex, Tyr, tried to corral you in the marketplace.
"You've been looking at her, you little fuck. Don't think I haven't noticed." Hvitserk bites again when the other Viking man twisted the pole around in front of Tyr's throat, causing Tyr's breath to cough up his throat as he thrashed. Hvitserk looks to you, standing behind him as he sways in front of Tyr.
"You want his ass, princess?" A daring low whisper. You're breath swells out of your chest when Hvitserk lurches forward, yanking your wrist over to him.
"Do you?!" He snarls– and you know you're about to be in trouble.
"No!" You shriek. "Of course I don't want him, I never did!"
"See?" Hvitserk trills. "She's happy."
Hvitserk's firm grip leaves your wrist, tugging you in to gingerly kiss the top of your head. "Of course you didn't want him." Hvitserk says, and again he would ball his fist up, veins popping when he whirls around to punch Tyr square in the face. The first time garners a grunt– but the second, the third and so forth get sputtering coughs of his blood. His nose cracks at an odd ankle, telling you that its likely broken.
Like a coward, you say nothing. You watch Hvitserk's knuckles crack, bleeding to as he beats the man. Eventually the other Viking thrust him onto the ground when Hvitserk's knuckles were at their limits. On the ground his boot crushes the man's crotch, digging in with an irritable mash. With a few thrusts of his boot to the man's ribs he finally looks up. But he's not done, crunching the Tyr's throat under his dark boot and unsheathing his sword with a whirring his of its sheath.
