"My lips are still learning that you are a revolution."

chapter VII, act III ✧ 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚

had gone to the bathhouse early in the morning, wishing to rid herself of all sweat and bring herself completely pure for the upcoming raid. Once she returned to her cabin Ivar was shuffling his boots into his feet and she leaned on the door just after she opened it, enjoying the view.

His face was scrunched up in pure concentration as he tugged at the shoes impatiently, pulling them over his pants. She smiled before walking towards the bed and crawling behind him, hugging the boy's back and resting her chin on his shoulder, her legs on the outer side of his knees.

He scoffed in annoyance as he finally managed with the boots. She breathed out softly, and though it sent shivers up her neck, he spoke no words to her, still fully concentrated on his task. The wolf pulled away, running her fingers through his hair and braiding it.

Doing so brought her simple content. The type of happiness you earn when you go picking flowers, or when you admire the night sky. A type of happiness that is essential, carnal, primal.

The boy relaxed while she intertwined his strands with ease, a tiny smile on his face as he tried his best to not acknowledge how lovely her touch was, how lovely she was.

When he was done with his shoes, she was also done with his braid, and she had to contain herself from squealing proudly at her work.

Nero climbed off the bed and stood in front of him. Her heart jumped out of her chest at the sight.

The boy looked up at her, his face filled with anger, annoyance, menace. He hated how his legs made him completely useless, how he could barely dress properly. But as he looked at the girl's eyes his own softened, yet his thoughts became even more bitter, how could someone so perfect love a cripple such as himself?

His eyes skimmed through her figure. The tiny freckles across her cheeks, the dangerous, lustful but lovely gaze on her eyes, the dark mane that was always perfectly braided.

She was a goddess, had to be. She was the snap of jaws and flashes of silver, she was all war, she was all love, but only for him.

He looked dangerously handsome, the mad glint on his stare made her bite her bottom lip in contemplation. Should they really conquer York on that day? Couldn't they, instead, spend time in bed?

She shook her head, cursing herself and him a bit for being so... would there be any other description beside perfect? The poor girl was already too sore, every step she took made her almost groan at the dull ache in between her thighs.

"Nero..." he trailed off, reaching inside of his pocket. Her neck and collarbones were dark with his hickeys, and though that already showed the world to whom she belonged to, he still needed to know she was fully his and no one else's.

He wanted the world to know that the wolf finally had his leash around her neck.

He needed her to be his and his only. Oh, how he refused to share. Ivar always had to share with his brothers, but not this time, not this girl. She was Nero Lothbrok now, his wife, and Odin forbid whoever tried to take such title from her.

Most of their people weren't oblivious to their affair at all, they were always bound together since childhood, bound by the gods.

They were always by each other, and the bites on their bodies didn't go unnoticed either, "You are mine, and I am yours, and no one will ever take that away from us."

His words sounded like a threat towards the entirety of the world. And by all means... the idea of destroying the world was looking rather pretty to them at the moment, and maybe, just maybe, they would burn it down together, they would declare war on it all.

He cocked his head from one side to the other, his tone hard and challenging, she kept on chewing at her lip, trying to control the shit-eating grin that was trying to spread itself across her face.

Love had never been gentle nor kind to either of them, but now they knew why. He was almost raging at her hesitance, "I pray to the gods that I am not ever away from you."

Ivar grinned at her promise, he knew they wouldn't ever be away, they couldn't ever be away from each other. The boy pulled her into his lap, as he sat on the edge of the bed and she previously stood in front of him.

Her cheeks burned and she nuzzled her face into his neck while he grabbed her hands, slipping a cold material on her fourth finger.

She pulled away quickly, staring at her hand incredulously as he waved his own hand at her in dismissal.

Nero's eyes widened as she saw the ring promising their marriage, she looked down and analyzed the new material around her finger.

Two wolf paws forged in perfect bronze. The runes engraved signifying union and family and she ran her fingers over the material, for a moment she thought she would cry.

Ivar chuckled at her expression, her eyes were shining with her love for the piece, he glanced down at his own ring, the exact same replica of her's. The wolf paws reminded him that she would always be with him, no matter what. He finally had her wrapped around his finger, in all manners possible.

Nero squealed excitedly, she could no longer contain it. The girl threw her back on the bed, her legs laying on his lap as she brought her hand to her face, her toothy smile made Ivar's heart feel so warm.

How could anyone else ever compare to her? The simple sight of the girl made him crazy, she made him wish to conquer it all for her, she made him wish he to be a god so he could give it all to her.

She got on all fours on the bed and pushed him back down, so his feet were still glued to the floor. The wolf promptly climbed onto his lap, her grin never leaving her face which caused the boy to chuckle. She was bursting with happiness, he had promised her to stay, in a world where everyone she loved, left.

They looked pure, adorable. They didn't look twisted, neither hurt, neither dangerous. One could have doubted they were Vikings at all, they simply looked harmless and in love, so in love.

The girl leaned down, her smile appearing in between the kisses she planted over his entire head. She loved all of him, and she knew he would never fully believe it, he had been through too much, but at that moment, he did know how much love she had for him.

Ivar watched Nero pull away from him and peck every centimeter of his face until he was a laughing mess over the bed, taking the girl by surprise as that side of him was not necessarily... apparent.

The boy roared with laughter which caused her to laugh as well. Odin almost felt pity for them, they could have stayed happy as that forever.

Both of them set out to war. The two looked ethereal. On the way to York, Nero held on to his chariot, her hair beautifully braided into her classic mohawk accompanied by the dark kohl. Her gloved hands toyed with her axe, throwing it from one to the other.

They barely looked at each other, their eyes trained on their goal. Their old scars tingled with the power of their ancestors, it was almost as if with each war, their closer to their loved ones in Valhalla, closer to their Gods, it was true, half gods are worshipped in wine and bread. Real gods require blood.

The wolf gave Ivar a big toothy grin, and he nodded at her, giving the girl the 'ok' as she set off along with Ubbe, climbing the walls of the fort with ease.

To say he was annoyed at her disobedience was a misunderstanding, but it was true... she was her own before she was his, and she was made for war, so as she began her killing spree, his annoyance became pride and lust.

The Saxons, armed with bows, struggled to shoot her people down. Nero got up on the fortress through the side, avoiding most of the arrows, somehow managing to pull her body to stand up on the edge of the wall.

Her eyes gleamed with madness as, with her smile still across her face, she swung her axe at the Christian who was charging at Ubbe, since no one was charging at her. The axe struck his ribs and she held onto it to properly move down from wall to the floor.

The oldest Ragnarsson whistled at her and she groaned, knowing that would move down and he needed back up.

She ripped the weapon away from the dead man and crimson flew along with her movements, the warm drops falling over her face as she was suddenly brought into a war-driven daze.

Ubbe followed down the wall, opening the gate to the others and allowing them to completely decimate the entire town in minutes.

Nero swung her weapon around nonchalantly and almost playfully. There were too many people, not enough space, with each move of the blade, someone else was dead at her feet.

Her arms soon tired and she simply raised her head from the pool of blood that she stood on and stared at the madness. Hoping to find her day over and a cold cup of mead.

Instead, Hvitserk's eyes met hers and for the second time in the day, she groaned at a Ragnarsson. His desperate and somewhat embarrassed gaze almost made her chuckle.

"By the name of the All-Father, FOR HOW LONG WILL YOU COUNT ON ME?" she screamed before sprinting towards him, the girl had become his shield at some point.

She had become someone who he knew he could trust when he found himself in situations such as those. He could handle himself, but he could trust her to do part of the work.

The ache in her legs was a constant reminder of Ivar as she ran for the boy in order to help him with the Christians that were quickly overpowering him.

In all truth, the ache wasn't unpleasant, but rather a motivation that as soon as this was over with, she could have him again, because now... he was all hers.

Hvitserk held one of the enemies off with his shield as he battled with another using his sword. In one swift move, she got her axe in between the two fighting blades and allowed Vit to bother with the man in front of his shield.

The man seemed surprised and fear flashed across his features.

She grinned at him through her blood stained lips, "Ready?"

He backed away slightly and for the first time in her life, she decided to enjoy the chase.

She threw her axe to the floor and opened her arms, challenging him. The man shook his head in confusion, her eyes darkened as her sadist side took over.

Her head automatically cocked to the side, beginning him to make a move. His eyes widened in panic, in the church behind her, women and children were being massacred.

He knew not who to pray for, but he was sure this was the Devil's work.

With nowhere else to run, he screamed in his language and dropped his weapon before turning his back to her and sprinting towards the town's gate. She sighed, mumbling "ergi" underneath her breath.

She bent down, taking her time as she gathered her axe and giving Ivar, who was murdering Saxons from inside an already destroyed church, a full and pleasant view of her arse.

In one move, the man was on the floor and her blade was buried somewhere near his spinal cord. The wolf shook her head, what use is running when we train weapon throwing?

Noticing a hot stare burning holes on her back, she turned around, giving her husband the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

Hvitserk patted her shoulder, calling her attention and they walked side by side to the church Ivar and Ubbe had managed to open.

In the midst of all chaos, they glowed, they were Odin-born, had to be. Soon enough, they stepped through the torn apart door that used to protect the temple and took in the bigger picture.

Bodies were lying everywhere, and though the scene was grotesque, the Vikings found nothing but pleasure in it.

The girl was pushed to the side slightly for a chariot to pass through the great hall of the building. Her eyes trailed to what it was pulling along and a wicked, sick grin made its way to her mouth.

The body of the priest followed in perfect state.

Semi-perfect state. His mouth had been filled to the brim with molten gold. Her mind spun with dark thoughts, taste your cross now. As people in your kingdom go hungry, you give your god the gold, what kind of god allows an innocent to die from hunger while the dirty other basks in riches?

The priest was a warning.

The Saxons would never doubt their gods again. They would never doubt the Vikings again. They would never doubt Ragnar again, but most importantly, they would never doubt Nero and Ivar Lothbrok again.

They would never doubt the cripple and the wolf again.

Her people soon began celebrating and upon seeing a couple share a heated kiss she was brought out of war mode.

Slowly, Nero's head raised from the floor, and her eyes fixated on the figure sitting on the stairs. Chuckles came out of his mouth as he watched his empire flourish.

The wolf stalked towards her husband almost like a predator would to a prey. Her body trembled with anticipation, her eyes were dark for a whole different reason.

"Ivar," Nero bellowed, her feet glued to the entrance of the church, her voice raspy and needy.

The sound made Ivar's eyes immediately meet hers, becoming dark simply by the way she pronounced his name. By the way his name boomed through the church out of her lips.

The sound had been enough to awaken his most primal instincts about her.

Breathing in, the wolf walked towards her husband. Her body language was dangerous, silent, luring him into an agreement.

Her heart pounded against her chest as she saw him, sitting on the stairs in the altar, his weapon in hand and it against his own head. His face covered in blood, the plead that left her lips was loud enough to drag everyone's attention to her but she couldn't be less bothered.

Finally, she stood in front of him, heat pooling in between her legs at how incredibly fucking hot he looked at that exact moment. She leaned down, just so her face was inches away from his, "I need you."

Her soft demand was enough to make the boy get out of his trance. He bolted up, his hand holding onto her cheeks and pulling her down to face him, she licked her lips, he tugged further and she nodded.

Her legs settled on each side of his, obeying his silent demand as his grip on her face tightened and he slowly moved it to her neck, she groaned with his touch and smashed her lips against his. His tongue invaded her mouth as the people who were watching began minding their own business.

The hand that wasn't on her neck trailed down her ass, squeezing it tightly and she instantly moaned at the feeling. He smirked against her lips, knowing his girl too well. Their tongues played agonizingly slowly, one trying to win over the other through teasing.

Having enough, he let her neck go and she immediately stood up and grinned, happily skipping in victory towards the room where some of the Saxons had been hiding in.

Ivar crawled in right after her. In her face a boyish smile, in his, a sick smirk, this woman could not get any better.

She closed the door behind him and rested her back against it, sitting on the floor and crossing her legs.

Nero looked at him with a rather serious expression, her demeanor suddenly changing. Her breaths became ragged for a whole different reason. She clenched her eyes.

"I don't think we can be together."

The quiver that left her lips made his eyes widen and he quickly crawled to her, stopping right in front of her legs.

He made no sound. Noticing so, she opened one eye, almost as if afraid of the full picture. Once she took in his unamused expression, she burst out laughing and untangled her legs from one another, doing so he was settled in between them.

"Odin Ivar, it seems the youngest Lothbrok can't take a joke, huh?" she chuckled and he shook his head "Now, would you mind fucking me?"

⓲

The boy didn't move from his place, simply pulled the girl down by her legs, her back sliding smoothly from the wall to the floor, he propelled her knees on his shoulders, his face dangerously close to her covered sex.

Nero groaned from inside one of the chambers in the church. Ivar's blue eyes shone with menace and she bit her lips at the sight.

He soon began trailing soft kisses over the thick fabric of the girl's armor. He carefully unwrapped the armor around the girl's legs and pulled down her pants nonchalantly, he pecked her now bare inner thighs and his finger played with her wetness earning an annoyed and impatient groan from the girl, "You really need me, don't you, pup?"

Her hips buckled up with each of his movements, but he quickly and roughly removed his fingers and pressed down on her waist. "Ivar, just...please" she whined, dragging every syllable.

Ivar dragged his tongue across her sex and she breathed out, moaning. Her hands laced in his hair and she cursed herself for braiding it. He began lapping at her, following his instincts, which were truly right. Once she began squirming away from him, his hands pressed further down on her waist pulling her to the floor and keeping her on the floor.

She quickly came undone and he pulled away, his chin glistening with her wetness, and if the girl wasn't so drained from the spoils of war, she would probably have fucked him right there. He pulled up her pants after placing a soft kiss over her sex, making the girl shiver under his touch.

⓲