VIKINGS IMAGINES

How the react to you having a miscarriage/ having a stillborn

Warning(s): mentions of suicide.

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Bjorn: you were hoping on this child, you were infertile or that's what you had been told. Was it his pride? You couldn't tell, but you would've hoped he would have accepted some of the blame. That it wasn't just you. However, that would only be your perception. Inside, the oldest son of Ragnar was feeling a tempest of emotions. But, due to his reputation, he kept it inside. Not opening up to anyone, not even you or Lagertha.

Ubbe: He thought he was the one. Everything would be perfect. He was the legitimate heir of Kattegat. Nothing could go wrong. Maybe because of such thoughts the Gods done this to spite him. A stillborn, they allowed him to hope, dream and picture a future which was already dead in your womb. He shook with an anger. Ubbe, went to thralls. You needed him, said you could have another. Yet, there was still a distance that resided between you. It was thick in the silence. Therefore, you didn't stop speaking, didn't wallow in the deafening quiet. Instead, you went on raids and ultimately sided with Ivar while Ubbe left for Kattegat. You couldn't look at your husband without seeing a deformed child. It haunted you. Therefore, you left what was alone and kept it in the past. It was never to be spoken of... Never.

Hvitserk: He tried again, implored you that there was another time, you could succeed. He held you close to his chest, cooed in your ear. And you accepted each love-filled whisper with passion. Nights of countless kisses and thousands of declarations of love, echoed throughout the hut. All were in awe of your resilience. That strength was continued to be idolised by women all over Kattegat.

Sigurd: He took it out on Ivar. Said the child's mangled legs was due to being related to him. He was a curse upon the family. With the weight of grief, you slowly sunk into such thoughts. That it was Ivar's fault. You scorned him and was full of malice. Until you were just gone... Sigurd found you in the woods, you legs twitching as you hung in the tree with your last remains of life. He wouldn't see you in Valhalla, only a motherless child. He didn't follow you. He just refused any other lover, up to the point where an axe was thrown in his chest.

Ivar: No matter how many sweet-nothings you whispered, how you held him tight in the dead of night. You couldn't deny his lamenting took a toll on him. Your child was young, their father barely got to see you swell. He was a cripple, he denied he could try and succeed. He didn't touch you, he refrained from doing so. It was a pointless dance if the Love had only converted into sorrow. But, you stayed by his side, even if he put up a front once in the presence of others. You knew him. One night you finally made love. And with that, came a beautiful baby girl. A princess he would cherish for the rest of his days.