#I know I said there's no magic in the viking au

[wholoveseggs]

Crimson Frost {Part Three}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Three

Things heat up between you and Elijah as you prepare to rescue Gerda and Henrik. In the pursuit of your sister things get bloody and an unexpected warrior comes to your aid.

♡♡ I'm sorry that this one is taking so long, there will be a part four! {and possibly five}

6k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots violence in this part. SMUT!, virgin!reader, hot springs, norse runes... sword fights.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}

It was a four day journey to the coast, a market was there that sold all kinds of things, including people. Elijah believed that was where the Blackthornes were taking Henrik and Gerda.

The snow was still high, but it had thawed enough for you to travel on horseback, the wind whipping at your face. You leaned into Elijah, his body warm and solid against yours, the scent of him filling your senses.

You were glad he was there with you, his strength and determination a comfort, especially after losing your home and family. You had fallen for him, the attraction between you growing with every day. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't deny what you felt, the need for him, the desire.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice low and husky, his breath warm against your cheek.

"Aye," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart fluttering at his closeness.

"We will find them, sweet Gerda and Henrik," he promised, his arms were around your waist, holding the reins, guiding the horse, "we will not let the Blackthornes keep them,"

You nodded, swallowing hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The thought of them being sold into slavery, or worse, made your stomach twist.

You stopped to camp for the night, the sun dipping below the horizon, the stars twinkling in the sky. The wind howled around you, the cold biting at your exposed skin.

Elijah started a fire, the flames casting a warm glow around you, the warmth chasing away the chill. The two of you had grown very comfortable around each other, falling into a routine, each taking on the various tasks of setting up camp, cooking food, and caring for the horse.

You took a walk to go fetch some water from the nearby river, the moonlight illuminating your path. You came across a small hot spring, the steam rising into the air, the heat and humidity inviting.

You were tired and sore from the long day of riding and the idea of relaxing in the hot water was too tempting.

You took off your clothes and slowly stepped into the water, the heat enveloping you, the water soothing your muscles. You let out a long sigh of relief, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.

You heard the sound of twigs snapping behind you and turned, your eyes flying open.

"Elijah," you gasped, your face flushing, dipping lower into the water to hide your naked body.

"I was worried when you didn't return, I see why," he smiled, his eyes roaming over you, his gaze making your heart race.

"I haven't felt this good in weeks," you sighed, "the heat, it's relaxing,"

Elijah began to pull off his clothes, his gaze locked on yours, his body rippling with muscle.

You felt a wave of desire rush through you, your pulse quickening, a flush spreading across your cheeks. You turned away, giving him privacy, the thought of him naked making your stomach flip.

You heard him enter the water, the sounds of him splashing, his breathing shallow. You risked a glance back, his broad back was to you, the water coming up to his waist.

"Gods," he muttered, "this is wonderful,"

You let out a breathy laugh, "Aye, it is,"

The two of you faced away from each other, the silence heavy with tension, the heat of the water seeping into your skin.

"What will you do? After we rescue Gerda and Henrik," you asked, gently moving your hands through the water, creating small waves.

"I do not know," Elijah replied, his voice low and soft, "perhaps find my own land, start a family,"

"That sounds nice," you murmured, a hint of sadness in your voice. You wouldn't be going with him, your place was with Niklaus. Elijah would be a part of your past, a fond memory. You couldn't imagine not being near him, not being with him, the thought made your chest ache. "I wish you could stay with us," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

"As do I," Elijah said, his voice thick with emotion, "but we both have our duties,"

"Aye," you said, biting your lip, tears welling in your eyes.

You glanced over at him, his back was still to you, you noticed a particularly large scar stretched across his back, the pink skin raised and uneven.

You moved closer to him, the water making soft ripples as you did, your hand reaching out to trace the scar, "what happened here?" You whispered, your fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin.

He twitched under your touch, his muscles flexing, his breathing labored. "My father, he beat me, whipped me," he said, his voice a whisper, the pain evident. "For trying to protect Niklaus,"

"I heard such rumors about your father, that he was cruel," you whispered, your heart breaking for them, and the pain they endured.

"Aye, he was," Elijah sighed, "he was not a good man, but he was still my father, and I loved him,"

You pulled your hand away, his words echoing in your mind, your chest aching for him. He turned to face you, his gaze meeting yours, his expression soft, his eyes searching.

You swallowed hard, the air heavy between you, the tension crackling. He was so close to you, his naked body inches from yours. Your breasts rose and fell with each breath, your nipples hardening at the thought of him touching you, his hands exploring your body.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek. You wanted to pull him closer, to feel his lips against yours, to give in to the desire burning within you.

"Elijah," you whispered, your heart racing, a flush creeping across your skin.

"Aye," he breathed, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"I..." You swallowed hard, your body aching for him, "I should not have..."

"Do you love him? My brother?" Elijah whispered, his eyes burning into yours.

You hesitated, the truth of it all hitting you. You did not love Niklaus, not in the way you should, not the way a bride should love her groom. Your heart belonged to Elijah, even though it was wrong, even though the gods would not approve.

"I..." You started, your voice trembling, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you, "I do not,"

He kissed you, his lips soft and warm, the passion and heat between you consuming you. You lost yourself in the feeling of his body, the taste of his lips, the touch of his hands. The two of you gave in to the desire, the lust, the need for each other.

He guided you backwards towards the rocks, your back pressing against the smooth stone, the cold sending a shiver through you. 

"We should not be doing this," you moaned, the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at your skin sending waves of pleasure through you, "the gods, they will punish us,"

"Then let them punish," he murmured, his voice like a caress, "if it means I can spend one more moment with you, I will gladly accept their wrath,"

He lifted you, the water lapping around your thighs, his hands gripping your ass. The heat from his body contrasting with the cold air, the feeling of his manhood pressed against you made you feel glorious.

"I've never been with a man," you whispered, trying to conceal the nervousness in your voice, your body trembling with need, the excitement and desire almost overwhelming. "Have you been with a woman? Did you...?"

"Once," he whispered, his voice husky, "but it was not love, not what I feel for you,"

Your heart raced, the feel of his strong body, the strength of him, made you feel alive in a way you had never known.

He kissed you, his lips brushing against yours, soft and gentle. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. His touch was so tender, so loving, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

His eyes met yours, his fingers dipped below the waterline, and pushed slowly between your legs, causing you to gasp and jerk back, the sensation new, overwhelming.

He smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling, the look of desire that filled them making your stomach flutter.

"Do you feel that?" He whispered, his fingers teasing the place between your legs, his touch eliciting a reaction you'd never imagined possible. 

"That is a taste of Óðr, the god of divine madness," he smiled and when he began moving the small nub between your legs with a calloused thumb, you moaned aloud.

He lowered his head to yours, his lips capturing yours, his tongue teasing, tasting. You surrendered to him, to the feelings coursing through you, the passion and desire burning inside you. You'd never felt like this before, the sensation of his touch, his kiss, was almost too much, your breath coming in small gasps, you were on the verge of something, something you'd never felt before.

The combination of the heat of the water, the warmth of his breath on your cheek, and the insistence of his fingers were doing something to your body. Your muscles began contracting, pushing towards something new, something blissful.

Then you felt it, ᛞᛁᚡᛁᚾᛖ ᛗᚨᛞᚾᛖᛋᛋ (divine madness) a feeling of rapture, an explosion, a storm. Your body alight with pleasure and a yearning for more of whatever he would give you.

He pressed his lips to yours, like he could taste your pleasure, and you knew you had been given a precious gift. Your hands clutched at his chest, your eyes locked on his, your heart fluttering, no longer caring that the gods might see you and punish you both. You parted your lips and with a soft moan he slid his tongue into your mouth and kissed you like he was drowning and you were air, his grip tight on your body.

You wanted more, the madness taking hold of you, your hand slipping beneath the water to caress his manhood, a thrill washing through you as he twitched and groaned.

You knew enough about what men and women did to know he could place himself between your legs, thrust forward and be inside you. You had heard some of the wives claim it hurt, while others hinted at immense pleasure. But you didn't care. In that moment, your mind was a fog of desire, your body singing for him.

He pressed himself against you, searching your eyes for permission, his gaze heavy with want. You locked eyes with him, giving him a small nod and he eased himself into you. There was no pain, only a dull stretch of pleasure and fullness. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his hips moving slowly, thrusting into you. You dug your fingers into his hair, moaning as he filled you, your bodies coming together in a dance of passion and lust.

"ástin mín (my love)" he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his breath hot on your cheek. You clung to him, lost in the moment, his body moving in sync with yours, the feeling of him buried deep inside you was more than you could have imagined.

The water churned around you, your bodies moving together, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The pleasure was building, a coil of ecstasy twisting tighter inside you. His hands gripped your waist, his gaze locked on yours, the need and desire between you binding you together, the need for release overwhelming.

And then it hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, his body shuddering as he found his release, the two of you clinging to each other, the world around you fading away.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes shining with emotion, his hand cupping your cheek. "And I do not care what the gods have in store for us,"

"Elijah," you breathed, a warmth filling you, your heart fluttering, "I love you too,"

He pressed his forehead to yours, his hand cupping your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the scent of him, the sound of his voice.

"í þessu lífi og því næsta (in this life and the next)" he whispered, his gaze locking on yours, the look of adoration in his eyes making your heart race.

You smiled up at him, lost in the love you shared, "í þessu lífi og því næsta,"

Fear gripped your heart as you felt the weight of a raider on top of you. His face contorted into a terrifying grimace as he looked down at you. The stench of his foul breath washed over you, making you feel sick. He lifted his arm, intending to bring his axe down on you.

You screamed and woke up in your tent, Elijah watching you with concern. He reached out and took your hand, rubbing circles onto your palm in an attempt to soothe you.

"Come here, sweetheart," he whispered.

You moved closer into his waiting arms, settling in between his legs, resting your back against his chest, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

"You are trembling," he said, nuzzling your hair with his nose and continuing to rub small circles into your palms. "Another bad dream?"

"Aye," you muttered.

"Tell me what you saw."

"The raid, it haunts me," you said, swallowing hard, "the screams, the blood, the bodies,"

He hummed softly, kissing along your shoulder, "It haunts me as well,"

You closed your eyes, letting his gentle kisses wash over you, chasing away the darkness. His warmth and strength were a comfort, making you feel safe in his arms. You let out a sigh, sinking into him, the feel of his skin against yours a reminder that he was there, protecting you, loving you.

"You need to rest, tomorrow will be a long day," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, his hand gently stroking your arm, his words soft and soothing.

You nodded, the memory of your dream still fresh in your mind, the images leaving an ache in your chest.

His hands began to roam, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. You moaned softly as his fingers grazed your skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Since your first time together in the hot spring, the two of you had not been able to get enough of each other. Every night you would succumb to the desire between you. With each touch, each kiss, your feelings for each other grew deeper, the bond between you strengthening.

He would use his mouth, his hands and his body to give you pleasure, to bring you to the edge of bliss, to teach you every sinful thing you could do. He taught you how to please him, and in return you learned that you held power over him. To watch his eyes darken with lust, his face a mask of pleasure as you rode him, it made you feel like a Valkyrie.

"I cannot sleep," you whispered, the memory of your nightmare fading, the ache inside you building, your skin tingling.

He chuckled, laying back, pulling you down with him, holding you close. Bringing the furs over you, cocooning you both.

"After we rescue Henrik and Gerda, I will make love to you in a bed," he whispered, kissing along your neck, "not the ground or in a spring,"

"Or against a tree... or the side of a hill..." you smirked, a hint of playfulness in your voice, "I can keep going," you teased, turning to face him, your hand caressing his cheek, his stubble scratching at your skin.

"Aye, or that," he laughed, his hand cupping your rear, his touch sending a jolt of desire through you.

"What will happen to us?" You whispered, your expression clouding, "what will we do?"

"We will find a home, a land where we can build a life together," he murmured, his thumb tracing along your bottom lip, "where we can be together," he paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his features, "that is if you want to come with me," he whispered, the hesitation and vulnerability evident in his voice. He searched your eyes, his gaze intense, his heart open and exposed.

"I want nothing more," you replied, your voice a whisper, the words tumbling out, your chest aching, "I could not imagine my life without you," you added, leaning into his touch, his skin warm against yours. "But... What of Niklaus?" 

"He.... he will adjust," Elijah sighed, "it will not be easy, but he will understand," he said, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mixture of worry and affection. "I hope," he added, his brow furrowing.

He sat up and stretched, the sun just beginning to rise, beams of light filtering in through the opening of the tent. You watched him, the muscles in his back flexing, the curve of his rear, the broadness of his shoulders. You let your eyes wander over his body, committing every detail to memory.

"Since sleep is evading me, I shall go and hunt," he smiled, pulling his tunic over his head, his hair messy and wild, "there are still a few hours before we must leave, and I want to ensure we have plenty of food,"

You smiled up at him, nodding, "I will gather the supplies and get the horses ready," you said, sitting up and reaching for your clothes.

He leaned down and kissed you, the familiarity of his lips against yours sending a wave of heat through you. His hand cupped your cheek, his eyes filled with adoration and desire. He lingered, his thumb stroking your cheek, his eyes filled with longing and need. You pulled away, your heart racing, a flutter of excitement blooming in your stomach.

He turned and walked out of the tent, leaving you alone, your mind swimming with thoughts of him. You fastened your hair into a long braid, your thoughts consumed by the upcoming battle, the plan laid out, the odds stacked against you. A pang of fear gripped your heart, the weight of responsibility and duty on your shoulders, the fate of your sister in the balance. You shook your head, forcing the doubts away, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

Elijah returned with two rabbits, the scent of blood making your stomach twist, the thought of the coming battle, the risk of losing Elijah or Gerda making you nauseous. You usually didn't mind the sight of blood or the scent, but today it made you feel ill. You swallowed the feeling and quickly got to work, cooking the rabbits over a small fire, your mind whirling, your thoughts a storm.

"It will be a long day," Elijah said, handing you a flask of ale, "drink, it will give you strength,"

You thanked him, taking a sip, the taste of honey and berries filling your mouth. You handed the flask back to him, and he took a drink, his expression grim.

"The market will be busy, but we will be able to blend in with the crowd," he said, packing away the rest of the supplies, "there will be plenty of Blackthornes, so be wary,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath, he took your hand in his and squeezed.

"Do not lose hope," he said, his voice steady, "we will rescue Henrik and Gerda,"

You gave him a small smile, the confidence in his words easing some of your worry.

"If we get separated, meet me back here," he said, his expression serious, "and remember, keep a low profile, do not draw attention to yourself,"

You nodded and kissed him softly "I will,"

The smell of fish and salt hung in the air, the morning market in full swing. Merchants and traders lined the streets, their wares on display. Children ran and played, their laughter echoing through the bustling town.

The slave markets were separated from the main market, but the smell of death and blood still permeated the air. The screams and cries of those being sold haunted the town.

Elijah walked alongside you, his expression tense, his hand gripping his sword. You could feel the tension rolling off of him, his worry for Henrik and Gerda obvious.

As the two of you passed the slave pens, a woman caught your eye, she was sitting on the ground, her head in her hands. She reminded you of your mother, her hair the same color, her eyes the same shade.

You wanted to free her, to tell her she was going home, but Elijah grabbed your hand, pulling you along.

"You can't help them all," he said, his voice low, "we must find the young ones,"

You nodded, following him through the crowds, the noise and chaos making your head spin. Your heart pounded in your chest, your stomach churning, the anxiety and fear coursing through you.

The sight of the gallows was a stark reminder that this was a dangerous mission, that one wrong move could lead to death.

The crowd was thick, the heat and stench of the bodies pressed together unbearable. You could hear the auctioneer shouting, his words muffled, the air thick with anticipation.

Elijah pulled you to the side, the two of you standing at the edge of the crowd. You could see a few men wearing Blackthorne colours scattered about. It gave you hope that Henrik and Gerda might be nearby.

"This is our chance," Elijah said, his voice low, "keep your head down and follow my lead,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You followed him down to the water, to where they loaded the ships with cargo. The slaves were being kept there until the auction began.

That's when you saw her, your sister, chained and shackled. Her hair was matted and dirty, her clothes tattered and stained. She was thin, her face gaunt, her eyes haunted.

It took everything in you to not run to her and wrap her in your arms. You bit your lip, your fists clenched, the urge to free her nearly overwhelming.

You squeezed Elijah's arm, and he turned, his eyes widening when he saw her.

"Go, I'll distract them," he whispered, before stepping forward.

You watched as he approached the Blackthornes guarding the prisoners. His stance was relaxed, his voice smooth, his demeanor calm and confident.

You could tell the men were suspicious, their eyes narrowing, their hands gripping their weapons. But you couldn't worry about him right now, you had to focus on freeing your sister.

You approached the slave trader, a tall man with broad shoulders, his dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

"How much for the girl?" You asked, nodding towards Gerda.

The man's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze lecherous, making you shudder.

"She's a pretty one," he said, his voice a low rumble, "but she's a feisty one, needs a firm hand,"

You swallowed hard, the thought of her being touched, abused by a monster like him, made you want to scream.

"So will that lower the price?" You asked, forcing a smile.

The man considered, his eyes raking over you again, "Aye, a fair trade,"

He held out his hand, and you took it, his grip tight, his skin rough. With the other hand you grabbed the dagger at your waist, and plunged it into his neck.

He collapsed, unable to make a sound, you looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the men were still distracted by Elijah. You grabbed the keys off the trader's belt and quickly unlocked the shackles around her ankles and wrists.

She blinked up at you, her eyes wide, her expression confused. The pain in her eyes broke your heart, you could only imagine what she had been through.

"Systir?" She said weakly, her voice hoarse.

"Aye, Gerda, it's me," you said, pulling her into a hug.

She clung to you, her arms wrapping around you tightly, her tears dampening your tunic.

You pulled away, helping her to her feet. Her legs were weak, her body trembling.

"You've got to be strong," you whispered, "do you know where Henrik is?"

"He was sold," she choked out, her face crumpling.

"We'll find him," you said, gripping her arm.

Just then you heard the sound of fighting. You turned to see Elijah and the men locked in combat. Blood was pouring from a wound on his arm, but he didn't seem fazed. You felt torn, wanting to help him, but needing to get Gerda out of harm's way. You knew what you had to do and what he would want.

"We need to get out of here," you said, pulling her away.

The sound of battle rang out, the clang of swords, the grunts and shouts of the men. You scooped Gerda up into your arms, and she wrapped her arms around your neck.

"Hold on, Gerda," you whispered.

She buried her face in your neck, her breathing ragged, her body shaking. You ran back to the market, slowing your pace, trying to blend in with the crowds.

You could hear the men shouting, the sounds of their pursuit growing louder. You weaved in and out of the crowds, trying to lose them. Your heart was pounding, your mind racing. Suddenly a hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

It was Niklaus.

You felt immense relief wash over you, seeing him there, safe.

"You're alive," he gasped, his voice hoarse, his eyes wild. "Do you know what happened to Elijah? to young Henrik?" He asked, his gaze darting around, looking for danger.

"Henrik is gone," Gerda sobbed, her face red and blotchy, "sold, not long ago," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Niklaus' expression darkened, his jaw clenching, his eyes flashing with anger. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head, "I'm fine, I'm taking Gerda somewhere safe, Elijah was fighting the men who held them captive,"

Niklaus cursed under his breath, he looked like a true warrior, his head shaved into a mohawk, the Mikaelson colors painted on his face. You could see his muscles rippling underneath his tunic, his chest and arms were covered in tattoos. The scars on his arms and face told the story of a fierce fighter, one who had survived many battles. It had only been a few months since you had seen him, but he had changed so much and so had you.

"Take her and leave," he growled, "go to the forest, hide there,"

"I won't leave without Elijah," you said, your tone firm.

He gave you an odd look, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. But now was not the time to dwell on it, now was the time to act.

"Stay safe," he said, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

You pulled Gerda along, keeping to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight. The sound of battle echoed through the market, the cries of the wounded, the clash of steel. You came across the stables, her weight growing heavier with each step. You could feel her heart pounding against your chest, her breath coming in short gasps.

As you approached the stables, you could hear the sound of a man's voice, the familiarity of it making your hair stand on end. Einar.

"We need to hide," you whispered, setting her down.

She leaned against the wall, her chest heaving, her body trembling. You looked around the corner of the barn to see Henrik on the ground, Einar looming over him.

Your blood ran cold, rage burning inside you. You gripped your axe, the familiar weight of it calming you.

"Stay here, Gerda," you said, your voice low.

She shook her head and clinged to your arm, her nails digging into your skin.

"You can't take him," she whimpered, "he's too strong,"

"I have to try," you said, pulling her into a hug, you handed her a small dagger Elijah had given you, "take this, if anyone tries to hurt you, use it,"

She nodded, her eyes filled with fear.

You crept around the corner of the barn, the stench of urine and manure assaulting your nose.

"Not even worth the money I paid for you," Einar snarled, kicking Henrik in the stomach.

The boy groaned in pain, his eyes scrunched shut, his fists clenched.

"Get up, boy," Einar spat, grabbing Henrik by the shirt, dragging him to his feet.

You charged at him from behind, raising your axe and striking him in the back with all your strength.

Einar stumbled forward, dropping Henrik. The boy fell to the ground, clutching his stomach, his eyes wide with shock.

"You bitch," Einar growled, whirling around, his eyes filled with fury.

Cold fear shot through you, the sight of his scarred face, his cruel smile making you freeze. Your axe still in his back, you backed away, reaching for the dagger at your waist.

Suddenly, Henrik leaped onto Einar's back, his arms around his neck, trying to strangle him.

The sight spurred you into action, and you ran forward, stabbing the dagger into his shoulder, his scream of pain echoing through the stables.

Einar thrashed, trying to shake Henrik off, but the little warrior held on, his face grim with determination.

The three of you struggled, the fight raging, your breath coming in short gasps, the sound of steel clashing ringing in your ears.

Your body ached, the blows Einar landed, his punches, kicks and elbows leaving their mark. But you and Henrik managed to bring him to his knees.

He roared, flinging Henrik off his back, and the boy slammed into the wall, his body limp.

Einar's hand went to his waist, and you knew what was coming, he was going to grab his sword and cut you in half.

You scrambled backwards, the adrenaline coursing through you, the fear making you frantic.

You were cornered, no way out, no escape.

He raised his blade, his face twisted in a cruel smile. Gerda screamed and ran forward, putting herself between you and Einar. You cried out, trying to stop her, but she ignored you. Her face was a mask of fury and determination, her body trembling, but she didn't hesitate, didn't flinch. She stared up at him, her fists clenched, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Don't touch my systir!" she shouted, her voice strong and clear.

Einar laughed, "Two children and a woman? This will be fun,"

He raised his sword, the blade glinting in the sunlight. This was it, the moment of death. You closed your eyes, waiting for the pain, wondering if you would be worthy of Valhalla, if one day Elijah would find you there.

But the blow never came.

You opened your eyes, blinking against the harsh light. But then his expression turned to shock, a pitch fork jutting out from his chest. He fell to the ground, the weapon buried deep, a gurgling sound coming from his throat. You knelt beside him, his blood seeping into your clothes. You watched the light fade from his eyes, the life leaving him.

Behind him stood a dazed Henrik, his blade bloodied, his eyes wild with rage. He grabbed Einar's sword and threw it to you, and you caught it.

You stood up, feeling dizzy, your body aching. You could taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth, your wounds finally catching up to you.

"Henrik!" Gerda cried, throwing her arms around him, sobbing into his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her, his expression a mixture of relief and pain.

"I'm alright, Gerda," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It's over,"

They both looked at you, their eyes shining with gratitude, they both looked like they'd seen hel, their bodies covered in cuts and bruises, their faces gaunt and pale. They had seen and experienced too much, too young. You reached out, and they both embraced you, their arms wrapping around you, their tears wetting your clothes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I'm so sorry,"

"You came for us," Gerda said, her voice barely audible. "That's all that matters,"

You squeezed them both, feeling the warmth of their bodies, their hearts beating, their breathing, their life.

"Come," you said, forcing yourself to stand, "let's get you both home,"

Your horse was nearby, the stallion waiting patiently, seemingly unbothered by the commotion.

You got them both on the horse, handing Henrik the reins, he wrapped his arms around Gerda, and the two of them clung to each other, their eyes filled with hope.

"Go to the forest, wait for me there," you said, giving the horse a pat, "I need to find Elijah and Niklaus,"

"My brothers are here?" Henrik asked, his eyes widening.

You nodded, "they'll help us get home,"

The stallion took off, Henrik guiding him towards the forest, the two of them fading from sight.

You headed back to the market trying to gather your thoughts, the pain and exhaustion making it hard to think. You had to find Elijah, and Niklaus.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}

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#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[ghouljams]

And of course, Witch does notice him. She probably kind of hates him at first for always disrupting her prayers with his languid, confident footsteps as he enters her house under the guise of asking for a very specific remedy. She hates the way her stomach twists every time she sees his rugged face. She hates the way her mind goes blank for a second when his soft, yet commanding voice echoes in her ears.

And she despises how she can’t help but silently gush at every single one of his gifts. How she always puts them in places she just knows she will always see them, and how comforting their sight is. How she feels her gaze soften even just a little bit when he breathes a sigh of relief as she bandages his wounds an massages his sore muscles. How her shoulders suddenly feel heavy with worry every time he tells her he is about to leave for another expedition, barely managing to steel her voice when she tells him to come back in one piece (after all, it’s always a nightmare to rummage through the heavy northern snow to find the ingredients needed to take care of big injuries). How she immediately goes to ask the Gods to watch over him, her hands clutching the necklace he once gifted her.

And, most of all, she loathes the way she loves him, her mind distracting her with many thoughts of him when she has to tend to her duties. She is down bad, and he is too. It’s only a matter of time before they both crumble in each other’s arms under the delectable tension these feelings weave in between them.

Just a little headcanon. Mii is inspired. We love characters who can fit in multiple AUs.

Mii do you wanna just take over for me because holy shit. I literally sat up and rolled my shoulders let's fucking go, I gotta write some fic, I'm inspired but I don't think I can match that because GOD. The mutual pining.

There are small things you do to prepare for men to come home. There are big things too, of course, you bind winds with your staff, you ask the gods for protection, you bless the wives with their husband's safe return. But the small things... You change out the furs you wear, return the silky pelts to their usual hanging place so you don't seem too fond of the man that gifted them. The same with your buckles, your brooches, your necklace. You twist a thin silver band around your finger, like a branch from a willow tree it always strikes you as too delicate to come from a viking. There's no filigree to it, not stones, no patterns, it's simple and well loved.

You do these small things because you loathe the man they represent. He's a distraction from your duties, he clouds your judgement, pulls the spirits from you. He watches you with such bare affection in his eyes that you wonder how it would be to be his wife. How it would feel to wake up every morning to those hands cradling you. Only to have him leave you, the same way he always does.

The gods whisper to you as you sit in front of their alter. Dissonant, clouded by the spirits that guard their realm. Chills wrack your body, your mind far away, drifting through the different planes searching for some new prophecy or vision that might keep your man somewhere closer. (They come to you in dreams, and tell you of new lands, new people, force you on to the elders and tell them to send out a party. You'll never be free of this awful wanting.)

The spirits pull your head back, arch your back painfully to look at the intruder in your temple. "You're always in such a rush to get back here," They tell him, voices overlapping, "is she really so special to you?"

"Of course," Price breathes, his shoulders heaving to compensate for his run to the temple from the shore. His feet carrying his heavy body to stand behind you, what are a few steps when you're at the end of them? He watches as you jerk forward and spit henbane seeds from your mouth, coughing and sucking in breaths to shake the trance. He crouches, his hands reaching for your shaking form. Völva don't live long if there's no one to care for them. It's the spirits, the elders say, no living creature can hold the dead without joining them a little each time.

Your fingers scrape the floor, nails digging into the wood and furs that surround the alter. Hands touch your back, familiar enough to make you shiver and tip your head to look at the man you always send so far away from you.

"Welcome back," He tells you, his voice so soft it feels like a blow. You look away from him, fix your eyes on the carved wood of Freyja's statue.

"I should be telling you that."

Price hums, his hands leave you. It's freezing without their warmth. You're frozen without his warmth, doomed to this until it takes you the way it takes every völva. Stuck, until Hel calls you home. You hate this man, you shouldn't love him the way you do. He shouldn't entertain your affections the way he does. He shouldn't encourage them.

"I brought you something." His furs rustle behind you as you collect yourself. You hear the leather cord of a pouch open and you sit up with a sigh. When he doesn't follow up or press anything into your hands you turn to ask him what he's brought. He presses a berry against your lips and like a fool you take it. It's a slightly bitter burst on your tongue, crushed gently by your teeth into something almost sweet. You eye the pouch in his hands, the bright red and orange berries inside. You feel yourself soften a little, smiling when you meet his affectionate stare.

"Rowan berries," You half ask, your voice feels lighter, gentler, "Thank you." It sticks like a knife in his chest. Something so simple makes you look at him like that, like coming home. Gods what he wouldn't do for you.

He's never seen you use any of his other gifts, doesn't even know if you've kept them. Price had thought something edible would go over well, easier to make sure you were satisfied with it. You reach for another berry out of the bag, the thin strip of silver around your finger glinting in the firelight. His ring. The first thing he'd gifted you, when he'd been overcome by the need to have any foothold in your life. You look up at him through your lashes, pop another red berry in your mouth with a questioning hum.

"Are you alright?" You ask, deft fingers reaching to inspect him, "You're not injured are you?" The concern in your voice might kill a weaker man, surely no one can hold up under your care. Not when you look at them like that.

"No," Price chokes out, gritting his teeth as your fingers brush his skin, "No injuries to report, we've got a healer now so-"

"You don't need me?" You smile when you say it, like a joke, but there's sorrow in your eyes. Price can't stop himself from cupping your face, your soft skin under his rough hand is intoxicating. It makes his heart clench painfully. Can't you see he's trying to ease your burden? Are you truly so wrapped up in völva that you've lost sight of any other value you might have?

"What would I do without you sweetheart?" He whispers. There's a pain in your eyes he can't name. It hurts to see you turn away from his hand. To see you smooth your hands over your dress as you stand, offer him your hand to help him up. You smile, some mask closing off your eyes from him.

"Well, we might as well go and greet the men," You pull on your duties like a well worn cloak, more völva than person when you pluck your staff from the ground, "do our jobs for the elders."

It's a reminder to both of you. The spirits aren't the only ones that keep their eyes on you. Price nods, and follows you out of the temple, pressing the pouch into your hands as he goes.

#I know I said there's no magic in the viking au #but völva!reader/Witch can have a little spooky magic #as a treat #cod x reader #x reader #cod x oc #x oc #oc: witch #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x oc #john price x reader #john price mw2 #captain price cod #captain price mw2 #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x oc #f!reader #original female character #price x witch #they're so down bad for each other #absolutely heartbreaking these two dumbasses can't talk to each other about their feelings #viking!price #viking au #völva!witch

[viking-raider]

A Witcher's Legacy - PART TWO: OPEN SECRET

Summary: Being a Witcher is a daily struggle, so is being a parent. Things become even more difficult, when word reaches the wrong people that Geralt of Rivia has a son with you.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Parts: I

Warning: M - Witcher!AU, Soft & Protective!Geralt, Language, Assault, Attempted Breaking & Entering, Fighting, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Scrappy!Jaskier, Uncle!Jaskier, Magic Use, Nicknames, Mention of Child Endangerment(?), Witcher Hate, Memories, Mention of Past Pregnancy, Fluff, More Witcher Characters - SMUT -> Oral (F Receiving), Love Bites, Body Positivity, Partner Worship, Penetration (M-F), Orgasm

Inspiration: A subject from my story, A Witcher’s Destiny, Season Two of Netflix’s the Witcher and a Quest in The Witcher 3!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to be added A Witcher’s Legacy Tag List, please message me!

I also have the story on my AO3

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

“I have seen it with my own eyes! The Witcher and his whore have a babe together, and it's rumored to be of both their blood!”

“How is this possible!?” Stregobor barked, leaning forward in his seat. “Witchers are impotent, their mutation makes them so! We all know it.” He said, looking about the room of other gathered mages.

“Are we sure that this baby is the White Wolf's?” Another of the mages asked, drumming their fingers on the arm of their chair. “The woman could have simply been with child and the Witcher may have claimed it as his.”

“Yes, where did this rumor start?” Another questioned. “Where did you hear it, Jordi?”

“A visitor at the Temple of Melitele.” Jordi answered, as he stood in the middle of the ringed chairs the mages sat in. “He claims to have heard the Witcher speaking to the priestess, Nenneke, almost a year ago now, about how he was assuredly the father of the babe and that he had no reason to believe her infidelity to him. The priestess asked how such a thing was possible, also stating the fact that Witchers are sterile, and the woman was at this time clearly and undeniably pregnant. The Witcher Geralt, replied by telling her, he wasn't entirely sure, but had a suspicion.”

“And what was that suspicion?” Stregobor asked, lifting his bushy eyebrow.

“The visitor couldn't say, because he was found to be spying on the conversation at that point and was thrown out of the temple.”

“This is troublesome, Stregobor. If the Witcher is capable of reproducing, it means they can create more Witchers, without the need of alchemical solutions. If the Continent finds this out, it could spell mass panic.”

“I am well aware of that, Artorius.” Stregobor replied, scratching at his thick, white beard. “We must find out if this claim is true first, and if it is, if the child is truly the Witcher's true born son, then we must destroy it.”

You bounced your son as he cried in your arms, at a loss for why he was upset. You had changed his pamper and fed him, and he wasn't interested in sleeping. There was nothing you could tell that was causing him pain either.

“Please, little one.” You begged him, rubbing the back of his head with your palm and pacing the inn room you and Geralt had gotten in the town you were stopping at. “Fuck.” You snapped, as a loud banging sounded on the door, causing your son to scream even louder.

“Yes?” You asked, pulling the room door open.

“Everyone on this floor is complaining about the wailin'.” A tall and burly male on the other side growled down at you.

“I'm so sorry.” You frowned back at the innkeeper, swaying on your feet. “I'm really trying to calm him, I don't know what's wrong and I've tried everything. My husband is away with a job, so I have no help with him.” You explained to him, meekly.

The man let out a rumbling growl at you and walked away, you sighed and closed the door, returning to your pacing in the small room.

“Come now, Lycus.” You cooed at him. “If we don't quiet down, your father is going to come back from killing his monster to us standing out on the street with our things, because we've been kicked out on a noise complaint.” You tried convincing him. “And, there it is now!” You added, as another knock sounded on the door and opened it again, this time finding a woman standing out in the hallway.

“Yes, I know. The noise.” You nodded at her.

“No, no.” She shook her head at you. “My husband, the innkeeper, has sent me up to help you with the babe.” She explained to you. “I've had six barns myself.” She told you, smiling softly, seeing the exhausted and at-a-loss look on your face.

Your shoulders slumped with relief. “Oh gosh, thank you.” You sighed, stepping back and letting her step into the room with you.

“Do you have a baby blanket for the wee thing?” She asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Yes.” You nodded, going over to the bed and picking up a soft blanket that you made yourself.

“Here.” She held her hand out for it and you handed it over. “Spread it out like this.” She instructed you, laying it out on the bed. “Now,” She turned towards you and held out her arms. “May I?” She asked, her eyebrows lifting.

You looked at her for a moment, no one had held your son other than yourself, Geralt, Jaskier, Nenneke and Vesemir since the day he had entered the world, but the woman had said she reared six kids into the world and if it helped whatever ailed your sweet boy, then—you held him out to her. She took him from you with skilled hands, maneuvering him onto the blanket. You watched her closely as she folded and tucked the blanket in around his squirming body.

“The swaddle.” She said, finishing and gently picking him up, then held him out to you. “Does the trick.” She smiled, as your son slowly calmed down.

You sighed with relief, almost bursting into to tears, as you cradled him in the nook of your arm, smiling into his tears stained little face. “Thank you so very much.” You told her, looking back up at her.

“You're a lifesaver.”

She chuckled at you, shaking her head. “He's very handsome.” She commented, gently rubbing his cheek with the back of her index knuckle.

“Thank you.” You grinned, swaying and looking proud of your son. “He's just like his father.” You added, with just as much pride.

“I'll let you rest now.” She said, nodding her head to you and went to the door, squeaking as she ran into Geralt in the hall.

“Are you all right?” Geralt asked, hurrying into the room, his gold eyes examining you and the baby.

“We're more than fine, now.” You smiled at him.

“What happened?” He asked, closing the door and the gap between you.

“He got incredibly fussy after you left, and nothing I did calmed him down.” You explained to him, leaning forward to gently rest your now sleeping son on the bed. “People on the floor, understandably, started to complain.”

Geralt looked at the door over his shoulder and growled.

“The innkeeper came up to inform me of the complaints, and I informed him of the problem.” You continued, turning back to Geralt and started unstrapping his leather armor from his body. “And, I suppose, instead of kicking us out, he went to get his wife and she helped me calm him down, by showing me how to swaddle him.”

Geralt looked at the sleeping infant, burrito wrapped in the soft, mint-green blanket and smiled. “That was very kind of them. They could very well have kicked us out of the inn.” He said, looking down at you, as you set his armor down, not quite used to the hospitality.

“They could have.” You agreed, nodding. “How was your monster?” You asked, lifting a brow at him, before turning to fill a bowl with water from a pitcher and dipped a cloth in it.

“A pesky selkiemore.” He replied, as you started rubbing the wet cloth over his bloody hands, washing off the selkiemore's blood and guts off his knuckles.

“Fun.” You grinned up at him, dipping the cloth back into the water and wringing it out, before reaching up to clean off a smear on the side of his neck. “Seems you have it all in your cracks and crevices.” You commented, seeing bits stuck in the Witcher's white hair.

“You know me.” Geralt chuckled, grinning at you.

“Mmhm, I do.” You nodded, smiling back at him. “Sit yourself down, Witcher.” You said, motioning to a chair by the small fireplace in the room.

Humming, Geralt pulled off his boots and moved to sit down, while you removed a brush from Roach's saddle bag on the floor by the bed. You stood behind Geralt, gently removing the tie from his hair, then started to methodically brush it, being careful with any knots you found or bits of the monster's blood or guts that matted his hair, using your fingers to detangle a few of them. Geralt allowed himself to relax under your care, his shoulders and back slouching, and extending his feet towards the flames of the fire in the grate; his eyes falling shut.

You smiled at him, it was always nice to see Geralt relax and let his guard down, as rare as it was. Only the most trusted of people were gifted with Geralt closing his eyes and falling asleep. Especially while touching him, and you were at the very top of that list of rare people.

You kiss the top of his head. “Come to bed, me'bleidd.” You whispered into his white and silver strands, resting your hands on his strong shoulders and gently squeezing, not wishing to startle him awake, knowing the detriment it can cause if he was woken suddenly.

“Hm.” The sound rumbled deep inside his chest, before he stirred on the chair, flexing his ankles and toes, as he took a deep breath, dropping his head back to look up at you. “I ordered the use of the tub in the washroom.” He informed you, blinking slowly, much like a cat.

“Well, off with you.” You told him, kissing his forehead.

“It's not for me.” He sighed, putting his boots back on and standing up. “It's for you.”

“Why?” You frowned at him, tilting your head.

“You need to relax and have some time to yourself.” He said, undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Nothing better than a tub of warm and soapy water to do the trick.” He smiled over at you. “Especially since we've been bathing in cold streams and lakes.” He laughed, going to the door of the room.

“I'll have the innkeeper bring up the water and fill the tub for you, then I'll watch our little one.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, as he opened the door, a soft smile on your lips.

Geralt smiled at you, crossing back over to you and kissing you intimately on the lips for a long moment, before breaking it off and going out, going downstairs to the bustling taproom of the inn and found the innkeeper speaking to one of the patrons by the door. He politely waited for the two men to finish talking, but he made it known that he wished to speak with him next.

“What can I do for you, Witcher?” The innkeeper asked, approaching him, folding his beefy arms over his chest.

“Well, firstly...” Geralt replied, planting his feet. “Thank you for helping my wife with our son. We both appreciate it.” He told him, tipping his head in a respective manner.

The innkeeper returned the gesture.

“Secondly, the wash room I paid for the use of. I would like to use it now, if I could have the hot water brought up for it.” He added, explaining his reason for being there.

“Of course, Witcher. I'll have my boy, Simon, haul them up presently, then knock on your room door, when the task is complete.” The innkeeper reassured him.

“Thank you.” Geralt answered, inclining his head and went back upstairs. “The innkeeper's son will knock on our door, when your bath is ready, me'minne.” Geralt said, stepping back into the room.

“Wonderful.” You smiled at him, loosening at the laces of your shirt and turning to sit down, so you could pull your boots off.

Geralt came around the bed, grabbing the chair as he did and sat down before you, he leaned down and closed one of his big, calloused hands around your delicate ankle and lifted it, resting your heel on his knee and started to massage your foot. You moaned softly as he did, his skilled hands hitting all the right points.

“What have you done, me'bleidd?” You asked, your eyes falling closed and your head falling back.

“What makes you think I did something, me'minne?” Geralt whispered back, lifting a brow at you.

“You've spent a precious coin on a bath for me and now you're massaging my feet.” You pointed out, lifting your head and cracking an eye at him. “The last time you did that, I was bearing your son.” You said, a smirk pulling at one corner of your mouth. “And I am certifiably not with child again, unless you've been back to Toussaint without my knowledge.”

“Hm.” Geralt hummed at you, narrowing his golden eyes. “You've grown to know me too well.”

“We've been together for almost eight years.” You retorted, opening both of your eyes and laughing. “How are you to be a stranger to me, after that length of time, Geralt? Surely, you know just as much about me as I do you!” You quipped, amused.

Geralt shook his head at you, letting your foot go to favor the other one. “It's true. But, I've done nothing, and I've certainly not been back to Toussaint.” He answered, pressing his thumbs into your arch. “Since, our last visit, at least.” He added, glancing over at your son, still comfortably swaddled in his blanket and dozing peacefully on the bed behind you.

“I just wanted to...pamper—you.” He explained, gulping around the word.

You narrowed your eyes at it, suspicious. “You've seen Jaskier, haven't you?” You asked, knowing all too well that such a word as, pamper, wasn't generally in Geralt's repertoire.

But, it was in the Bard's.

“I have.” Geralt nodded, rolling his eyes. “He's in the village.”

“And he hasn't come to see me!” You huffed, outraged and hurt. “The jerk.”

Geralt laughed, grinning. “He was accosted by two women outside the inn and swept away not long after we ran into each other, when I was returning from dealing with the monster.” He explained to you, softly. “I'm sure, once they're done thrashing him, he'll come and say hello to you and Lycus.” He assured you, raising your foot to press a gentle kiss to the top of it, before putting it back down.

“But, before he was taken away, he was right. You are the one primarily taking care of our son. You need time to yourself, to relax and freshen up. I've neglected you in that way, and I'm sorry, me'minne.” He told you, his brow creasing and his molten eyes growing somber.

“Geralt.” You sighed, shaking your head, and leaning forward, cupping his face in your hands. “You have never neglected me, in any way.” You whispered to him. “It is my honor and privilege to care for our son, to care for you. It gives me the purpose in life I have looked for. I want, need and ask for nothing else.”

You gently kissed him and pressed your forehead to his, sharing a quiet and close moment with him, before a soft knock echoed from the door, announcing your bath was ready.

“I love you, me'bleidd.” You said, smiling and rubbing noses with Geralt, playfully.

“And I you, me'minne.” He replied back, nudging his forehead against yours. “Go and enjoy your bath, the both of us will be fine, until your return.”

You lingered for a second longer, before leaving the room, finding a boy standing out in the hall waiting for you. He didn't say a word, but turned and walked down the hall, guiding you to where the wash room was, then left you to relax in privacy. It felt quite strange, as you let your simple dress slip down your body, pooling around your feet, to have the luxury of a huge, full and steaming tub of water, all to yourself.

The steam rising from the water filled the room, leaving you in a thick mist, as you dipped your first foot inside; moaning as the unbelievable warmth enveloped your leg. It was as if you were in heaven. Once inside, you turned your attention to the tray attached to one wall of the tub, holding a thick, white and oval shaped bar of soap and a small, square, wooden handle and stiff bristle, body brush. You lifted the soap to your nose and took a deep breath, a smile touching your lips.

“Lavender.” You laughed, feeling the irony as a distant memory leapt out to the forefront of your mind.

“Geralt.” You mewled, feeling his hot hands grab and knead at your hips, as he pulled you against his body.

“Hmm.” He growled back, his mouth devouring your neck for a moment longer. “You smell...” He moaned against your skin, his nose gliding up your neck and burying in your hair. “Like Lavender and Cardamom.” He purred, turning his head to nibble on the rim of your earlobe.

“Is that a good thing?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Yes.” He nodded, tugging on your ear. “I love it, it's refreshing and sweet.” He whispered, kissing behind your ear and back down your neck, while pushing your dress off your shoulders and body, leaving you to stand naked before him. “It suits you.” He smiled, taking a step back, to admire your nude body.

“Because you are both of those things, and much more.”

You grinned shyly at Geralt, glancing away from him as his golden orbs appraised you with a growing look of love and lust. Geralt reached out, cupping your chin between his thumb and index finger, to turn your face back towards him and smiled at you, slowly leaning in to kiss you on the lips. His hand moved from your face and found yours, bringing it up to the buttons on his shirt, guiding and encouraging you, as you continued to kiss.

Geralt was the first man you had ever lain with, and while he had been wild, hungry and possessive, like a wolf at the end of winter, he was gentle, encouraging and patient with you as well. You rarely catch the scent of Lavender or Cardamom without thinking back at that moment, with fondness.

You lounged back in the tub, disappearing up to your chin the godly water and closed your eyes, moaning softly, feeling the heat seep into all of the sore and travel-worn places your body had from the long rides on Roach from town to village to city, and sleeping rough. It was amazing to feel normal again. But, you weren't aware of falling asleep in the bath, until you heard a strange scraping noise, almost like the sound of mice with metal nails scurrying across the floor, but much louder.

Sitting up, you reached for the towel on the seat of a chair beside the tub, and slowly stood up and wrapped it around your dripping body, then stepped out of the tub, shivering as a cold draft hit your wet skin. You stood silently, listening, but the sound had stopped, as if sensing your movement, however several long minutes later, the scratching metal sound started up again, coming from the door. Biting your lip, you tip-toed over to it, trying to make the worn and warped floorboards of the bath room squeak as little as possible, before gently touching your ear to the door.

The sound of the scraping became louder.

“What?” You whispered, your brow pinching.

You quickly picked up your dress and secured it, before yanking open the bathroom door, and found a man crouched in the hallway, a lock pick in his hands.

“Who the fuck are you?” You barked at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

The man jumped up and grabbed you roughly by the arms, shaking you. “Where is he!?” He demanded, as he shoved you into the room, his grasp bruising your skin.

“Who?” You cried, shaking your head and beating on his chest, confused and frightened. “Geralt!!” You screamed, lashing out and clawing at your attacker's face and anything else you could. “Help!” You yelled, hoping anyone would hear you.

A thunder of footfalls came down the hall and a voice called out your name in alarm, like the ringing of a clear and beautiful bell. “Get off of her!” They growled, picking up the nearest object, a chipped, porcelain vase and smashed it over your assailant's head. Your attacker groaned, letting go of you and stumbling away, holding the back of his bleeding head and crashing into a wall.

“Jaskier!” You gasped with relief, throwing your arms around his neck. “Thank gods.” You sniffled into his shoulder.

“Don't say that just yet!” Jaskier said, seeing the man starting to pull himself together and grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the room. “Geralt!” He yelled, storming down the hallway and looked over his shoulder, only to see the man make it to the doorway and start to summon something.

“Oh gosh! GEERRRALLLLT!” He roared louder, feeling his body prickle with anticipation of the apparent Mage's incoming magic strike.

The door to your and Geralt's room flew open, and Geralt came storming out, just as you and Jaskier came bolting by. He looked between you and Jaskier, then the direction you had come from and saw the Mage about to let loose his bolt of Chaos. Without hesitation, Geralt threw up his forearm to form the sign of the Quen, creating a shimmering shield as the Mage released his surge of Magic, protecting himself, and you and Jaskier behind him, from the blast of magic; depleting the shield with the hit.

“Get in the room!” He barked at you and Jaskier, then charged down the hallway towards the Mage.

“Who the fuck was that!?” Jaskier asked, slamming the room door behind the both of you, startling Lycus awake and causing him to cry.

“How am I supposed to know?” You replied, rushing over and picking him up. “I found him trying to pick the lock to the washroom, while I was enjoying my bath, and he started attacking me.” You explained, trying to soothe your son, hearing the commotion of Geralt fighting the Mage in the hallway.

Geralt rushed the Mage, not giving him the time to hopefully cast anything else at him, throwing a white-knuckled fist to the Caster's face, tossing the smaller man backwards into the tub of water, then advanced on him, grabbing him by his soaked tunic and yanked him up to face level.

“What do you want?” He growled at him, his upper lip twitching. “Why have you attacked my wife?” He demanded, jerking him roughly. “Speak!” He roared as the Mage remained tight lipped, before striking him again out of annoyed rage.

“Witcher!” The voice of the innkeeper barked in the doorway. “What is the meaning of this bedlam?!” He ordered Geralt, having received and heard all the noise from downstairs in the tavern.

“This Mage scum attacked my wife, while she was having her bath.” Geralt replied, yanking the Mage out of the tub and standing him up, for the innkeeper to see. “I want to know why!” He hissed, shoving the Mage into the wall and held him there with a hand to his throat.

“Tell me, if you want to live.”

“They know, Witcher.” The Mage finally answered, with a choking laugh, blood speckling his lips. “They know your secret.”

Geralt frowned at him, shaking his head, confused. “What secret?” He huffed, only growing angrier.

The Mage laughed, before striking Geralt with a rush of Magic, and quickly slipped through a portal before he or the innkeeper could get their hands on him again. Geralt roared with frustration and fury, punching the wall where the Mage's head had been, then shoved past the innkeeper and stomped back down to your shared room.

“Easy, Jaskier! It's just me.” He barked as Jaskier wildly swung a fire poker at his head.

“Thank the gods.” You cried, rushing Geralt and wrapping an arm around his waist, sandwiching Lycus between your bodies. “What happened?” You asked, looking up at him. “Did you find out what he wanted?”

“All he said was he knew our secret.” Geralt replied, wrapping his arms around the two of you. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He asked where he was, but I didn't know who he was talking about.” You told him, shaking your head, then saw Geralt's face change. “What?” You squeaked, blinking up at him.

Geralt gulped, his eyes shifting down to his son.

“No.” You shook your head at him, holding him closer to your body. “He's no secret, Geralt.”

“But, we also don't go around telling people that he's ours.” He answered, gently stroking your stiffening back.

“Particularly, that he's the biological son of a Witcher.” Jaskier blurted out.

“But,” You choked on the growth of your overwhelming emotions. “Why would--” You paused, it was fruitless, you knew why, you had been with Geralt long enough to know the hate and prejudice people had for Witchers, and your baby boy was the son of one, and looked so much like Geralt on top of it.

“How then would anyone find out about him?”

“They could have seen him, while we've been traveling.” Geralt said, kissing the top of Lycus's head, deeply bothered. “Perhaps, I should send you both to Kaer Morhen and finish out the last three months until winter comes, then I'll join the both of you.”

“No.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him. “Geralt, no.” You snapped, strengthening your voice.

“I won't be going about the Continent, worrying while I kill monsters, whether or not another fucking Mage, or something worse, as come after the both of you.” Geralt replied, firmly. “So, you'll be safer at Kaer Morhen, with Vesemir.” He argued, staunchly.

“Jaskier will accompany you.” He added, looking at his old friend over your head.

Jaskier looked terrified for a moment, before he yielded. “Of course.” He nodded, biting his lip. “I'll even stay, until you come and join them.” He added, trying to smile at you encouragingly.

“Thank you.” Geralt said softly, inclining his head to the Bard.

“Geralt!” You barked, eyes wide. “I'm not going without you!” You told him, stomping your foot in defiance.

“I told you, I would--”

“You know what I'm saying, Geralt.” You growled, cutting him off.

Geralt cupped your face in his hands and drew you closer to him. “I won't have you and our son in danger, and that is what the two of you are in, right now.” He told you, his facial expression set. “There's only two places on the Continent that are safe for the both of you, with me and at Kaer Morhen. I need to finish the next three months, so we have everything we need for winter, then I'll come and join the both of you at the Keep, just as always.” He told you, his voice softening and his thumbs gently caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“I promise, me'minne.” He said tenderly, before leaning in to kiss you.

“Don't think for a moment, I don't know you'll be spending that time looking for the people threatening our son.” You said against his lips, your eyes on his face, critically.

Geralt chuckled through his nose, smiling back at you. “I would never question your intelligence or how well you know me, dear one.” He said, before playfully tapping you on the nose.

“Jesus, you really bring out his mushy side, don't you?” Jaskier said, looking between the two of you, wide eyed.

You looked smugly over your shoulder at Jaskier. “Like it's hard.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “It's good to see you, by the way.” You said, turning to him, now that everything was a bit calmer. “And, thanks for helping me back there.” You added, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

“Hey.” He smirked, his cheeks coloring. “I gotta protect you and my nephew.” He said, smiling at the two of you, reaching out to gently touch the back of Lycus's head. “Hey, little man! Come to Uncle Julian!” He said, holding his hands out for him.

You chuckled and let Jaskier take him from you, knowing how much he loved the Bard, especially when he sang to him. The four of you finished calming down, before Geralt went downstairs to get you all something for supper, not wanting you and the baby downstairs, risking anymore unwanted attention and attacks on you both. But he begrudgingly allowed you both to go downstairs to watch Jaskier perform a few songs, before going up to bed.

But, on rarity, sleep wouldn't find you, as you laid in bed with Geralt, Lycus in his usual spot between you. You shifted onto your side, lightly touching your fingertips to Lycus's rising and falling chest, stilling the paranoia in your mind about his safety, before reaching out to lay your hand Geralt's side, making the Witcher hum in his sleep and stir, but not wake. You couldn't help your brain from jumping around to different memories, from paranoia, fear and trying to soothe yourself.

Like one memory in particular.

There were hundreds of lit candles in the hallways and the entry of the Temple of Melitele, giving it such a beautiful ambiance as you walked the otherwise dark and quiet building. Even though you were exhausted, sore and about to give birth at any moment, you were wide awake and restless, the baby was moving way too much for you to lay down or sit for any length of time, so you hoped taking a small walk around the Temple would help you both settle down.

“Tough night?” A gentle voice asked, startling you some.

“Yes.” You nodded, turning to face Nenneke, the head Priestess of the Temple. “The little one is very active tonight.” You told her, resting your hand on your pronounced stomach, feeling the active kicks against your palm.

“May I?” She asked, holding out her own hand to you.

You nodded your head at her, moving yours away and smiled as she gently laid her palm against your belly. A large smile crossed her beautiful face, feeling the baby beat against her hand, like a drum, memorized by the feeling.

“It never matters how many babies I help birth into this world, they still fascinate me.” Nenneke said, moving her hand with the baby. “They are so sweet and innocent.” She sighed, before drawing her hand back. “I'm surprised Geralt has let you out of his sight. He seems more attached to you than the baby's umbilical cord.” She laughed, her cocoa-colored skin glowing as she did.

“He is.” You laughed with her, nodding. “But, he's finally fallen asleep, so I managed to tip-toe away without bothering him.” You told her, turning to walk with her. “He's gotten even less sleep than I have, since we found out I was with child. He's always awake, watching me at night, then killing monsters during the day.” You confessed to her, showing your worry for him.

“I'm afraid he'll overdo himself.”

Nenneke chuckled softly, resting her hand on your back as you both rounded a pillar. “Geralt has slept like shit all his life.” She told you, honestly. “He can take a lot. But, I know he brought you here for more than just because Melitele is the Temple of Fertility and Birth. He brought you here, because this is a safe place, a haven, and it is a place Geralt has always come to when he needs a safe and healing sanctuary.”

“So, he can fall asleep, knowing we will take care of you, while he rests.”

“He has been a lot less tense.” You agreed, finally seeing it. “He smiled this afternoon, and he hasn't really done that in months.”

“And, you?” Nenneke asked, tilting her head closer, her eyes studying you.

“I'm terrified, Nenneke.” You gulped, thickly.

“You're a new mother, of course you are!” She said, shaking her head. “It would be mad to think you wouldn't be.”

“True.” You nodded, biting your lip, trying to get a handle on your hormone-crazed emotions. “I do feel safe here. Especially knowing, should anything happen, I have you to look over me.” You said, grasping her hand.

“That does take a lot of stress off of me.”

Nenneke smiled at you, giving you the most motherly vibe, her hand cupping your cheek. “You will be fine. You're a strong woman and your child will be strong too.”

You sighed, closing your eyes, and savoring the warmth of her palm against your skin, feeling your fears melt away, knowing that hand would take care of and protect you, and the life inside of you. Nenneke smiled at you, seeing you relax and let out all your stress, with a heavy breath.

“Are you all right?” Geralt's deep voice echoed in the quiet room, his pale face and molten eyes looking at you with concern and worry.

You opened your eyes and stared back at him. “I'm fine, why?”

“Your heart was thundering in your chest.” He whispered, not wanting to wake the baby, as he peacefully dozed. “It's calmer now, but you were bothered by something. Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder.

“No.” You murmured back, blinking slowly at him, then licked your lips. “But-” You gulped and looked away from him.

“Tell me.” He cooed, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

“I need you.” You sighed, meeting his eyes again.

The ghost of a smile pulled across his lips, but Geralt nodded at you, understanding.

He had needed you for sometime, but it had become hard to do with Lycus always in bed with the pair of you. He squeezed your arm again, before carefully rolling out of bed and going to one of the saddlebags, removing a neatly folded blanket from inside; spread it out on the floor at the foot of the bed, creating a makeshift one for the two of you. You followed his lead, getting up as carefully as you could, so you didn't wake your son, and moved around the bed to Geralt, meeting the Witcher on the staging grounds of the blankets.

“I've missed you, my little firefly.” Geralt purred, his expression softening to a look of kindled lust.

“And I have missed you, Wolf.” You tittered back at him, your own eyes smoldering with the concupiscence pent up inside of you.

Humming, Geralt lifted his hands to the ties of your chemise, slowly untying them as he leaned in and kissed you with a reserved passion, his hands finally got your ties free and pushed inside the soft fabric, his skin tingling as it came into contact with yours. He moaned into your mouth. You moaned back at him, your palms pressed to the burning skin of his sides, smoothing them over to the small of his back, so you could slip your fingers into the back of his pants.

“Beautiful.” Geralt rumbled, having freed your body from the garment and stood back to appraise you.

You glanced away from him shyly, raising your arms to cross them over your chest, you had felt self-conscious about your body ever since having Lycus all those months ago. Your breasts weren't their normal and perky selves, like they were when you and Geralt had first met and made love, many years before. Geralt gave you a disappearing hmm, reaching out and closing his fingers around your wrists to gently pull your arms away from your body, making you lay your hands on his bare shoulders. He cupped one of your breasts in his palm, swirling the pad of his thumb over your hardening nipple, making you whimper and shiver.

“Such silly nonsense.” He hummed, his voice a deeper timber. “Trying to hide such a gorgeous body from me.” He said, smirking wolfishly at you, while giving the teased area of skin a pinch, producing a gasp out of you.

Geralt removed his hand from your chest and made short work of his pants, pushing them down his legs and kicking them aside, before wrapping an arm around your waist and hugging you against his body. His lips found yours once more and devoured them, like they were the sweetest of Toussaint's treats. His hands were hot on your skin as he pawed at your ass, slipping down to your thighs to pick you up and wrap your legs around his lean, scarred waist.

Pressing a hand to your back to steady you, Geralt turned and lowered himself to his knees, while laying you down on the pallet.

“How I've missed your soft folds.” Geralt whispered against your throat, sucking gently on it, while a hand strayed between your legs to caress you, then brought his wet fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a hungry moan.

“I could live off your essence for the rest of my life.” He said, a low growl in his throat.

“Mmph!” You chuckled, brushing your fingers through his loose hair, feeling the ends of it graze your shoulders and breasts as Geralt kissed all over your throat, working his way downward, leaving kisses and love-bites. “Oh.” You gasped softly, your back arching as Geralt's mouth found your pussy, flicking and swirling his tongue at your pearl, with eye-crossing skill. “It's unfair, you barely say a word most days, but your tongue is as skilled as your swordsmanship.” You huffed, gulping thickly, and hooking your legs over his shoulders, using them to hug him closer to you.

He tickled your folds with the rumble of his chuckle, while he continued to lick and suckle between your legs, making your thighs quake, your hand going to the back of his hair as you rocked against his mouth. You bit into your hand as you moaned loudly, coming against Geralt's face, not wanting to wake Lycus. Geralt moved back up your body, wrapping your legs around his waist and slipped in you with ease. Both of you sighing as he settled completely. The feeling of refreshing the physical bond and connection between you and Geralt was everything you had been looking for after all these long months. He leaned in close to you, noses brushing for a second, before capturing your lips in a tender kiss and he started to gently rock his hips into you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, savoring his kiss, as you slipped away into the bliss of Geralt's manhood burrowing inside of you. It had been far too long since you had been elevated to this height, that you allowed yourself to feel anything other than the stress of taking care of your son and the worry for Geralt's safety, while he plied his trade. You hummed softly into Geralt's mouth, a smile tugging up one side of your mouth, breaking the kiss as you pushed your head back, his gently thumping against your chest.

“Wolf.” You sighed, tangling your fingers through his hair.

He grunted back, kissing the damp skin of your chest, before running the tip of his nose up the side of your neck and drawing in a deep breath, taking in your scent. “Firefly.” He moaned back, his warm breath leaving a rush of goose-bumps over your sweaty flesh.

The both of you were nearing your peak, when a soft sound reached you from the bed, making your heart clench with horrified anticipation. Lycus whined softly, wiggling slightly inside the warm and soft swaddle of his blanket, while making a soft sucking sound. Without missing a beat inside of you, Geralt shifted and lifted his head, cocking a brow over the plain of the mattress to his son, eyeing his restless movements, while still thrusting into you, waiting to see if Lycus woke.

But the little boy settled and went silent again.

Geralt looked down at you and chuckled, both relieved and amused.

“Close.” You whispered, gulping thickly.

“I know.” He replied, nodding, understanding. “I love you.” He whispered, as the two of you finally came together.

“I love you too.” You whispered back, floating in the warmth of your fading climax, the assault by the Mage furthest from your mind for the moment.

#A Witcher's Legacy #A Witcher's Legacy *fic* #Viking-Raider Fics #Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt #Witcher Geralt #Witcher Geralt of Rivia #Geralt!Henry #Henry Cavill!Geralt #the witcher netflix #the withcer #Witcher #witcher au #Geralt of Rivia RPF #Geralt RPF #Geralt of Rivia AU #Geralt AU #Jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #nenneke #stregobor #Temple of Meletile #Fluff #Magic #Hurt/Comfort #Netflix Witcher

[half-deadmagicperson]

And He Answered

Chapter 4

Words for this chapter: 1158

For @phicphight

Prompt by @erebecula Mermaid AU, where instead of being ectobiologists, Jack and Maddie Fenton study wildlife from under the sea— specifically mermaids. Amity Park is next to multiples large lakes and rivers, the Ghost Zone is underwater, all the ghosts are mers, and Danny is struggling to find a way to explain his sudden aversion to any things water.

No warnings for this chapter! (That I can think of)

First | Prev | Next | AO3

     "What exactly did you mean when you said I was a drowned."

   Princess Dorothea found the answer to be simple, but hard to deliver. No one wants to live with the fact they died. Calmly, she took a breath and began to explain,

   "Our people are made up of two main types of people. There are the spawned, those who are born a mer. They usually look less like a land dweller. Then there's the drowned, people who died at sea. Not everyone who drowns becomes a mer however. They have to have a strong will to live or the right conditions in order to manifest their new form."

    The young one looked down in thought. It reminded her of when she first became a mer. Her brother, Aragon, and her had been captured by Vikings and tossed into the sea. She remembers the cold water and her senses beginning to numb. Her change had scared her. That was a good millennium ago. A lot has changed since then.

    The boy looked up at her once more and asked,

  "So does the whole mer thing come with powers?"

   "Normally, yes, one can train in magic and develop powers that are specific to them. However, I cannot be sure with you, Young One, for your aura is different from that of a normal drowned. I have never sensed anything like it before. Was there anything unique about the circumstances of your transformation?"

   The boy (Danny?) thought for a second before answering her.

   "I, uh, don't remember what happened. I did have a dream though. I was in the sub. Water had already filled the cockpit. But there was a man, a blue man. He was wearing some kind of purple cloak and blew a ball of blue light at me, kinda like how you did with the language spell. He told me I was destined to 'unite the land and sea' or something like that."

   Dora gasped. There was a myth among the Mer of a guardian donned in purple. He was said to only appear in the darkest of times when the needs were great. Most mers had never encountered this man. Many thought it was just a legend. Only the Ancients know if this Master of Time truly exists. Thoughts of different prophecies filled her mind, but she pushed them out. What mattered right now was helping this kid.

    "Would you like to accompany me to the Atlantic? We could find you a tutor," she offered. The child's face brightened before scrunching up again.

  "I would love to, but I just remembered I have to get back home. My sister's probably worried about me."

  "Very well. If you come back tomorrow, maybe you may journey with me then."

   Dora escorted Danny back to his archway. He turned back to her and waved before diving into the swirling water.

  Safe travels, young one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Once he was over the disorientation, Danny swam towards the beach. Jazz was sitting on the sand reading a book.

   "Sorry, that took so long. I got caught up in something," he told her as he pulled his body onto shore.

   "What do you mean? You were only gone for like a minute," she replied while handing him a towel.

   "It felt a lot longer than that," he mumbled.

   "Well either way, Sam and Tucker will be expecting you at Nasty Burger in about 20 minutes."

   "You're right I should be getting ready."

   "That's right. We can't have them being suspicious. Although, I don't think it would be a bad thing to have them in the loop." 

   "I know. I'll tell them eventually. I just want to figure things out for myself first."

   "And that's perfectly fine! Just remember that they are your friends, and I believe that they will support you."

   "Thanks Jazz."

    The siblings packed up their stuff and began their walk home. Machinery sounded from the lab as they entered their house. The Fenton parents must be working on something. Jack walked up from the lab covered in grease.

   "Jazzy! Danno! You're back!" 

   Jack's gigantic arms wrapped around both his children and squeezed the life out of them.

  "Come see what we made! It'll blow those mer outta the water!"

   "Thanks, but no thanks, I got to study," was Jazz's reply.

   "Well that leaves you and me, Danno!"

    Danny tried his best to look excited. While they were walking down to the lab, Danny decided to risk it and ask his dad some questions.

    "Hey, Dad?"

    "Yes, so?"

     "Why do you hate the mer so much?" 

     Jack looked at his son's thoughtful expression and sighed.

     "It all started when your mom, my buddy Vlad, and I were working on our college project. I've always believed that mer existed, especially since we Fentons come from a long line of sailors and merhunters, but I never encountered one until that day.

    We were out on a boat in a river nearby campus, collecting specimens to catalog for our marine biology class. We found different fish to weigh and categorize as well as some plants. Vlad found some snail shells and wanted to see if there were any snails living in them. He found one that was unlike any we had seen before. Unlike a normal shell, it was lime green! Unfortunately, Vlad made a huge mistake by grabbing it.

    A sea witch rose from the water and demanded the shell. We were all too petrified in fear to give it to her. She cursed Vlad and told him that he will become the thing he hates the most. The snail transformed into a large fish and splashed into the water. We were so scared, Danno!

   The rest of the day passed like normal, but it wasn't too long before we noticed a change in Vlad. He started isolating himself and would have random outbursts. Your mom and I tried to be there for him, but he pushed us away. Eventually, he hated us so much he wouldn't go near us. Vlad's life fell apart and it was all because of a mer. I've hated them ever since."

    "What if not all the mers are bad? Ya know like how there's good people and bad people? What if you just met a bad one?"

   "There's no such thing as a good mer," Jack's tone was dark and final. His opinion was set in stone. Danny's heart broke. He could never tell them. Maybe he wasn't blessed. Maybe he was cursed. Maybe he was cursed to become what his parents hate. He was cursed to become a mer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    In a dark cavern, evil lay in wait. A shadow of a figure pulled out a key. He stuck the metal into the stone and turned. A red light flared up on a large triangle that was engraved in the wall. Soon there will be enough power. They just had to wait.

  Evil had opened the Bermuda Gate.

#danny phantom #dp #phic phight 2023 #phic phight #and he answered #dp fanfic #not beta read

[alicedopey]

One Last Wish

(credits to @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​ for the gif)

Fandom: Vikings

Genre: Modern AU (sort of ), tiny bit of angst, fluff fluffity fluff

Pairing: Halfdan / OC (Gaby)

Words: 1546

Summary: Halfdan has been living with Gaby for a year but it might be time to say goodbye. 

A/N: Well what can I say ? This is the birthday fic for @naaladareia​ more than four months late. You know life hasn’t been easy lately and I had lost the pleasure to write but it looks like you helped me get back to it. Enjoy, my other half...and I’m sorry again for the delay.

This is the fourth and last installment of a series. Part I - Part II - Part III

A year. 365 days. 52 weeks. It’s been that long since Halfdan had magically landed on Gaby’s apartment and she could not help feeling overjoyed about it. She would lie if she said that everything had been easy all the time but most of the year next to him had gone smoothly. Lockdown and COVID were highly responsible for it, giving Halfdan the time to adjust and offering Gaby the time to explain how much the world had changed. Halfdan did not understand all of it and his first time outside has been quite a disaster, if almost beating a man to a pulp because he had bumped into her, or nearly attacking a church could be qualified as such.

But Gaby remained patient and managed to make him accept and embrace a good part of the modern world. Of course, he still refused to celebrate Christmas even though he did not mind gobbling up the several dishes she had cooked for the occasion. Nonetheless, it would be accurate to say he loved being here with her.

Though, he had shown some moodiness lately and was even sometimes short with her. It was useless to ask why, she knew he was probably missing his home, his brother, his time and she could not blame him for that. Indeed, as much as she liked Vikings, she could not imagine for a second leaving her home and friends behind to live in their era. Life expectancy, hygiene and all…

As she reached her house, her heart squeezed at the thought but maybe it was time to let him go and wish for him to go back home.

Sighing deeply, Gaby turned the key on the lock of her front door and opened it. She was surprised to see that the apartment was plunged into darkness.

“Halfdan?” She cried uncertainly and closed her eyes in relief when he shouted back “In here!”

She took the few steps that led to her living room and gasped at what she saw, her purse falling on the floor in the process. Halfdan had lit candles all around the room, the table was set up beautifully; a white tablecloth on which he had placed her finest crockery and a vase of roses in the center.

“You like it?” He whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek tenderly. “Figured it could be nice to celebrate your birthday with a romantic dinner. Didn’t you say that’s what women from the twenty-first century needed?”

“I sure did”. Gaby shook her head to wake up from her daze. “I love it Halfdan, thank you.”

She leaned back to admire him. He had put on black pants and a white shirt that outlined his muscles the perfect way. He had probably paid a visit to the barber by himself since his goat was neatly trimmed. Gaby caressed it. A smile appeared on her face when she thought about the first time she took him there and the way he had glared at the barber. The poor man had tried his best to work while shaking in his boots.

Halfdan soflty kissed her lips. “Wanna freshen up before dinner?”

“Now that would be a great idea.” She replied in a murmur and kissed him back languidly. She took the time to savor his warmth before pulling back reluctantly. She was about to go to her room when a thought made her freeze and her eyes widened.

“You…you didn’t cook, did you?” She asked in a tight voice.

The last time Halfdan had taken the initiative to surprise her with a romantic dinner, it had turned into a disaster. Gaby could still remember the combined stench coming from the burnt food and pan, plus the mess on the floor, the drawers, the cupboards; every surface had been stained with food. That damned Viking was definitely gifted with his hands but not when cooking was concerned.

Halfdan chuckled. “No, don’t worry. Food is coming.”

Gaby let out a sigh of relief and went to get ready. When she came back all freshened up and pampered a few minutes later, she was welcomed by the pleasant aroma of Indian food.

“Hmmm…smells good.”

“Well I had to please my woman so I ordered food from her favorite Indian place.” Halfdan explained, setting all the dishes on the table. When he was done, he looked up at her and smirked. “You are very sexy, woman. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?”

“I believe it is.” He replied and gave her a charming smile. That charming smile of his that still made her heart skip a beat every time she saw it. He pulled out one of the chairs and invited her to sit down. “My Lady.”

Dinner was delicious. Halfdan had ordered a little bit of everything so that she could enjoy as much dishes as possible. For dessert, he brought an enormous chocolate cake he had purchased from this nice little bakery she loved so much. Then, he put some candles on it and lit them on. “Make a wish, love.”

The words made her heart clench painfully in her chest. During these last years, her wishes had proven to be powerful since they had all come true. This was it. Gaby realized she was holding Halfdan’s future in between her hands - or was it her brain? She could either give him what he wanted or keep him selfishly for herself. She watched him intently; his crooked smile, his numerous sexy tattoos, the playful glint in his eyes…and she knew what she had to do. Talking a deep breath, she made her wish and blew out the candles.

Halfdan clapped fervently. “So, what did you wish for?”

Gaby rolled her eyes. “You know I can’t tell anyone if I want it to come true.”

“You’re right, let’s devour the cake then.”

And devour it he did, since he ate half of the cake by himself. Viking appetite.

Afterwards, Halfdan cleaned everything up and they got ready for bed. They just laid between the sheets contently, Halfdan spooning her from behind, the two enjoying the fact to be in each other’s embraces.

“I’m sorry.” Hafdan softly said before kissing her neck.

Gaby frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“Those last few weeks, I’ve been a real moody Viking. It’s just that...”

“You miss home.” She cut him off gently.

“I miss my brother but home is with you.” He hugged her a little bit tighter. “It’s been a year and the Gods might decide to send me back.”

Gaby felt her heart flutter at his words. Halfdan had not been in a grumpy mood because he wanted to leave, only because he wanted to stay. He was as scared to lose her as she was to lose him.

“It’s alright.” Her throat tightened and she tried her best to keep the tears at bay. “Remember what you told me last year? You said we’d better enjoy it while we could and that’s exactly what we did. I absolutely have no regrets, no matter what happens.”

“Me neither.”

She turned around to face him and rested her forehead against his. “Then, I’m happy.”

And she kissed him, lovingly, desperately. He kissed back just the same and nearly tore her nightgown to have her naked against him. Their bare bodies collided, each touch became more urgent and needier but they took their time to make love, both afraid it could be the last time. They wanted to memorize each other perfectly. When they fell back on the pillows, sated, they did not let go of one another but intertwined their bodies instead. They fell asleep, like that, two as one.

The following morning, Gaby woke up hot and sweaty. With an annoyed groan, she tried to get away from the heat but someone grunted and pulled her closer. Her eyes opened up abruptly and she smiled. Halfdan was still there.

His eyes fluttered open and he smiled when he saw her. With a pleased sigh, he leaned over her body to kiss her collarbone.

“I’m still here.” He said against her skin. “It looks like the Gods wanted us to remain together…and maybe you wished for me to stay.”

“I did not wish for you to stay.”

Halfdan raised his head sharply to look at her. “You didn’t?” He sounded disappointed, almost hurt.

Gaby chased a lock of hair from his eyes. There was no danger in telling him now. “I wished for you to go and stay where your heart belongs.”

“Then I guess it came true because my heart definitely belongs with you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. It was so uncommon of him to pour his heart out, it made her feel special and more loved than anyone.

Gaby let her eyes close when he resumed his kisses on her skin, his lips went down to her breast that he sucked gently. She let out a soft whine.

“Whaboutyoumeart?”

She frowned and looked down at him. “What?”

He sucked on her breast one last time before letting it go reluctantly with a wet pop. He looked up to meet her gaze. “What about your heart?”

“Oh.” She smiled. “It belongs with you my sexy murderous Viking. It always has.”

Tagging (feel free to ask if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @gearhead66​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @medievalfangirl​ @therealcalicali​

#vikings #halfdan x oc #halfdan vikings #Halfdan the Black #fanfic #birthday fic #fluff #one last wish

[hecatemoon87]

WolfBlood - A Viking Fantasy Story

[A James Delaney & Eddie Brock AU]

Chapter Summary: Queen Ravina is given some new information on why she was chosen for the WolfBlood princes. She speaks to her cousin about the brothers and prepares to meet them for a second conversation. 

Warnings: sex talk.

Word Count: 2,585

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Magical Womanhood

It was early morning and the palace was coming alive with activity. Nashwa, the Queen’s mage, had gone to the Queen’s quarters to speak with her. Upon entering the chamber, it was empty. Although it was sunny outside, the day was still cold. But Nashwa knew that even the cold could not keep the Queen out of the forest. So, the mage prepared her horse for the short trek out into the woods behind the palace. 

Queen Ravina reached into her quiver and extracted an arrow. She carefully notched it and with precision, pulled back the bowstring. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the target that she had placed several yards ahead. Exhaling slowly, she released the arrow and watched as it hissed through the air. The arrow landed dead center of the bullseye. She began to notch another arrow, but turned when she saw Nashwa galloping upon on a horse. The older woman dismounted and tethered the steed to a nearby tree. 

“So you’re hiding, are you?” Nashwa said, walking over to the Queen.

“I’m not hiding. You found me didn’t you?” Ravina said, returning her focus on the arrow.

“Oh, but that doesn’t really count. I am your grandmother, I know all my granddaughter’s secrets,” Nashwa said, smiling. 

Ravina said nothing and once more extended the bowstring back and released the arrow. The arrow connected with its target, landing next to the other six she had shot previously. Nashwa could tell Ravina was not in the mood for talking, so she decided she would talk instead. 

“You know, ever since you were a child you would run off to the forest if you were sad or scared,” Nashwa said.

“I am neither sad nor scared,” Ravina said, flatly as she pulled out the last arrow from her quiver.

“Neither? I see, so being outside in the freezing cold is something you enjoy?” Nashwa asked, teasingly. 

“I’m not enjoying it. I’m doing it because I need practice,” Ravina said, dropping the arrow back into the quiver and turning to face Nashwa. “You came here for a purpose, speak your mind, grandmother.”

“My dear, it has been four days. Might I ask when do you plan to speak with the princes again?”

“When I’m ready,” Ravina said, folding her arms. 

“Of course. And when will you be ready? I’m sure King Draco will refrain from destroying WolfBlood until you are ready,” Nashwa said. 

Ravina scoffed and picked up the arrow again, notching it.

“Are you concerned about the ritual? Are you still a virgin, Ravi?” Nashwa said. 

Ravina had been in the middle of releasing the arrow, but at the mention of the word virgin, she botched the release and the arrow landed in the ground in front of the target.

“Grandmother!” Ravina said, looking over at Nashwa in disbelief. 

“Well?” Nashwa said, pressing the matter. 

“I’m thirty years old, of course I’m not,” Ravina said, frowning at the fallen arrow. 

“Then what is the issue?” Nashwa sasked. 

“The issue is that I’ve just met these men. I don’t know them and I’m being told to bed them immediately. And since I’m already speaking my mind, I think that damned Oracle is wrong,” Ravina said.

“The Oracle isn’t wrong. You are the key to all this,” Nashwa said. 

“How do you know that?” Ravina said. 

Nashwa walked over to her granddaughter and pushed a stray lock of Ravina’s hair over her ear. Most people did not know Nashwa was the Queen’s grandmother. Nashwa was a mage, a powerful practitioner of magic. The reason why the relationship was kept a secret was because magic, although greatly respected, was also feared. If the people had known Ravina had magic flowing through her veins, it was unlikely they would have made her Queen of Rakovec.

“I know because I was the one who chose you,” Nashwa said, smiling sadly. 

“What?” Ravina asked.

“I knew Queen Salish a long time ago, while she still resided in DragonBane. I knew her mother and often brought your own mother to play with Salish. I watched her grow into a lovely young woman and I was sad the day her father married her off to King Horace,” Nashwa said. 

“I didn’t know you knew her. I didn’t even know my mother knew her,” Ravina said. 

“As I said, it was a long time ago. I last saw Salish alive when she had given birth to her sons. She had personally requested that I come to WolfBlood. I thought she just wanted to see me, but she told me a secret,” Nashwa said. 

“She told you the boys were Marrok’s sons, didn’t she?” Ravina said. 

“Yes, she did. But she didn’t need to tell me, because I could feel god-magic emitting from the babies, it was undeniable they weren’t just mortal children.”

“But how do I fit into all this?” Ravina said, unhappily. 

“Salish was afraid that Horace would find out the truth and have the boys killed. So I decided to cast a spell upon them, preventing the godhood from reaching its full potential. That way, they could still pass as mortal as they grew,” Nashwa said.

“And your intention was for the spell to be broken at some point…by using me?” Ravina asked, sounding upset.

“I’m sorry, Ravi. I didn’t mean for the entire weight of the spell to rest solely on your shoulders. But I made a promise to Salish that I would ensure her sons’ godhood would be released at the right time. I would make sure they would marry women of magic, to my future granddaughters,” Nashwa said. 

“And fate decided that you would have only one granddaughter,” Ravina whispered. 

“Yes, and to make matters worse, after you were born, the gods told me of your mother’s future demise. You were so young when she died…and the night of your mother’s death, Marrok came to the Oracle, telling her that you would be his sons one and only consort,” Nashwa said. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why did you make me think that only the Oracle knew all this?”

“Because I felt I had failed you. I was ashamed for a very long time for writing your destiny unintentionally. I tell you this now, so that you understand that those men are bound to you and you should not be afraid of them,” Nashwa said. 

“I hate this,” Ravina said, softly. 

“I know, but if anyone can fulfill the will of the gods, it is you. Ravina, you’ve been blessed with the ability to unite nations. With you by their side, you can unite all the kingdoms and begin a new age of peace and prosperity.  

“Fine, I will go speak with them,” Ravina said, sighing heavily and began packing up her archery equipment. 

“Let me handle all this. Just go back and prepare to meet with them,” Nashwa said, shooing Ravina away. 

Walking over to her horse, Ravina mounted her steed and spurred forward to the palace. Entering the compound, she took her horse to the stable and made her way back to her bed chamber. She was very displeased by how her grandmother had made her the key to unlocking the princes’ godhood. But she knew it was not done out of malice, so she quickly forgave Nashwa and decided to focus on the task at hand.

Inside her bed chamber, she walked over to the great wooden wardrobe that had been left by her mother. It was of maghoney, dark and golden wooden with cravings of Viking maidens etched in the wood. She opened the doors and peered inside, not having a clue what she should wear. After several moments of deliberation, she gave up in frustration. She made her way back to the hallway and found a passing servant. 

“Fetch me Lady Astrid,” Ravina ordered. 

Lady Astrid was Ravina’s first cousin on her father’s side. Astrid was particularly talented with fashion and was very good at making Ravina look like a proper Queen. As Ravina waited on her cousin, she kicked off her boots and fell back onto her mattress. She momentarily stared up the ceiling, her eyes growing heavy with sleep. Deciding to close her eyes for only a few minutes, Ravina drifted off into a deep sleep. 

“Wake up, Queen’s should not be sleeping at nine in the morning,” Astrid said, shaking her cousin awake. 

Ravina groggily awoke.

“Go away,” Ravina said, trying to push Astrid away. 

Astrid was a full-blooded Viking. She had bright blonde hair and light blue eyes. Her skin was cream and her lips a cherry red. 

“Up, up, up!” Astrid said, grabbing Ravina by the arm and standing her to her feet. 

“I don’t want to be Queen today, can you do it for me?” Ravina said, pouting as Astrid guided her over to the wardrobe.

“What’s with you? Have you not been sleeping well?” Astrid asked, ignoring her cousin’s plea. 

“I haven’t had a good night's rest since the princes arrived,” Ravina said. 

Astrid had opened the wardrobe doors and peeked around the door at Ravina. 

“So, you’ve already taken them into your bed?” Astrid said, winking. 

“No, that’s not what I meant! I’m a little out of sorts because…well, I don’t know what to do with them,” Ravina said. 

“I can give you a list of several things you can do with them,” Astrid replied, cheekily. 

“Really? And how would you know if these princes are worth doing those things with?” Ravina asked. 

“I saw them the other day being escorted through the palace. Praise be to the gods, those two are delectable morsels of man meat,” Astrid said, laughing. 

“Yes, they are handsome, but they are also very difficult,” Ravina said, beginning to remove the braids from her hair. 

Astrid, still facing the wardrobe, smiled. She then found the dress she was looking for. It was an elegant dress, the color of buttermilk. It had gold trim and a revealing bodice. Pulling it from the wardrobe, she brought it over to her cousin, who was now seated at her vanity. Astrid laid the dress over a chair nearby and picked up a brush from the vanity. As she began to brush Ravina’s hair, Astrid thought about the princes. 

“They have the most tantalizing lips I’ve ever seen on a man,” Astrid said, as she brushed. 

Ravina glanced into the mirror, looking up at her cousin’s reflection. 

“Yes, I agree,” Ravina said. 

“Yes, I agree, my goodness, such a prude,” Astrid said, laughing softly. 

“Fine. I like their lips. And I like their eyes, intense but thoughtful, the color of the raging sea. They have impressive physiques, and I do like that they are bold and confident,” Ravina said, nibbling on her lower lip. 

“Mmmmm, lips that can cover the skin with hot, wet kisses. Hauntingly deep blue eyes that pierce the soul and the heart, muscular bodies to wrap yourself around as they ravish you in bed,” Astrid said.

The women grew silent for a moment, both lost in thoughts of fantasy, thinking of the magnificent WolfBlood princes. Astrid was the first to stir herself from the daydream. 

“So, which do you plan to marry?” Astrid said, finishing smoothing out Ravina’s raven black hair. 

Ravina turned around and looked up at her cousin.

“You’re going to laugh,” she said. 

“Why would I laugh, either one of them would make an excellent husband,” Astrid said, setting the brush aside. 

“I’ve been instructed by the gods themselves to marry both of them. Me, singular, they, plural,” Ravina said. 

“I see…Cousin, I know that this has been kept secret. And perhaps you cannot tell me, but will you? I mean, all I know is that you were told about the WolfBlood princes. I am under the assumption that you’d marry a prince and unite their kingdom with our own,” Astrid said.

Ravina stood up from the vanity and began changing out of her green archery uniform. She didn’t see a reason why she couldn’t tell her cousin the whole story. After all, Astrid and her had grown up like sisters. 

“You’ve heard the stories that they are the sons of Marrok, haven’t you?” Ravina said, now down to her undergarments. 

Astrid nodded, picking up the discarded clothing and tossing it into a hamper. 

“Well, the rumors are true. But their powers are dormant and I am the key to releasing their godhood,” Ravina said. 

“How will you do that?” Astrid said, picking up the dress and handing it to Ravina. 

“I…I have to sleep with them,” Ravina said, slightly embarrassed. 

“Oh? So you have a magic cunny then?” Astrid said, laughing. 

“Apparently so,” Ravina said, laughing as well. 

Ravina didn’t want to get into the whole spell and binding ritual aspect of the story. So she left that part out, because it made her feel controlled and trapped. 

“So, your future husbands are half gods. Oh, just think of what they must be like in bed,” Astrid said, then her face lit up even further.

“What?” Ravina asked, turning around so her cousin could secure the dress to her body. 

“Just think, dear cousin, of having them both at the same time?” Astrid said, fastening the dress.

A burst of warmth spread through Ravina’s body from thinking of such an event. 

“Oh, hush,” Ravian said, blushing. 

Astrid laughed, taking Ravina by the shoulder and turning her around. 

“There, you look radiant. I’m brilliant, aren’t I?” Astrid said, approving her own work. 

Ravina smiled, rolling her eyes at Astrid’s comment. But when she turned to assess herself in the full length mirror, she had to agree.

“Yes, you most certainly are,” Ravina said, happily looking at herself. 

The color of the dress, a soft buttermilk texture, provided an excellent contrast to her hair. The black raven locks of her long hair cascaded down her back. It even brought out her deep golden-grown eyes. The fit of the dress accented her curves wonderfully and the bodice held her breasts in a tasteful, but alluring manner.  

“And, don’t forget this,” Astrid said, opening a large chest and extracting something within.

She walked over to Ravina, holding a silver crown, encrusted with sapphires. It had been Ravina’s mother’s crown. Ravina lowered her head as Astrid nestled the crown into position. 

“Now, you look like a Queen,” Astrid said, smiling.

“Great, now all I have to do is convince two men to sleep with me like a common whore,” Ravina said.

At the same time, both women burst into laughter. Ravina held her stomach and Astrid wiped tears from her eyes. 

“They won’t need much convincing, cousin. Just skip your diplomatic song and dance for once, go straight to seduction,” Astrid said, once she settled down. 

“My diplomatic song and dance, hmmm?” Ravina said, walking toward the doors. 

“Yes, you aren’t organizing a war or changing a law. You are simply trying to make two men crumble to their knees and beg for that magic cunny of yours,” Astrid said, walking beside her cousin as they left the bed chamber. 

“Hush, now. Let’s not be heard talking of this,” Ravina said, in a low voice. 

Then facing her cousin, she said a bit louder. “Thank you, Lady Astrid, for your assistance.”

“But of course, my Queen,” Astrid said, curtseying. 

It was all for show, to project a sense of formality as servants, guards and diplomats walked by in the large hallway. But before leaving each other’s company, the women gave each other secret winks. 

#james delaney #eddie brock #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fan fic #Viking fantasy #au fantasy

[total-fandom-tr45h]

yo Viking AU!! I am absolute love with the tattoo choices, more Skoll and Hati imagery with Sun and Moon, yes please~ I gotta ask, how do two animatronics end up in a Viking settlement? - @clxckwork-sun-n-moon

Hehe, glad you asked >:3

I probably have posted this on here before, but I honestly can't remember- if I did, i didn't tag it well and can't find it amongst my four hundred something posts so here!

The Metal Vikingr

“In two days time, two metal men will appear. Welcome them into the clan, and train them to be warriors. These metal men will save your clan.”

It wasn’t uncommon for you to receive prophecies in your dreams. You had been blessed by the gods from a young age, and practiced seiðr to assist your clan. What confused you was the mention of ‘metal men’. How could that be possible? You would just have to find out.

-----------------------

“Vǫlva!”

You had been enjoying a moment of quiet when a man from the village came running up the hill to your humble little house on the outskirts of the village. His name was Asmund, a drengr and one of the few people who would just sit and talk with you, not expecting you to use your magic or give a prophecy. The two of you had grown up together, Asmund’s father even treating you like his own daughter. When you were gifted your magical abilities, Asmund was the only one who didn’t fear you, staying by your side as you struggled with the prophecies that constantly flooded your minds and haunted your dreams. 

“Asmund, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You smiled softly at him, a soft red hue encroaching on his face as he stared at you a moment before shaking his head, remembering why he was here. 

“Strange creatures have washed up on shore, father told me to get you.” 

Right on schedule.

You sighed softly and stood up, stretching before walking over to Asmund. “Let’s go. I believe I know what you’re talking about.” You started walking down the hill, humming a tune while Asmund jogged to catch up with you. “You know what they are? Are they part of a prophecy or something?” He asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You nodded, looking at the shoreline to see a crowd of people gathered around something next to the docks. 

You picked up your pace, speed-walking through the village, nodding in greetings to those who said hello. You made your way to the group and cleared your throat, causing them to look at you and hastily move to make a path for you through them. What you saw laying on the rocky shore of the river was something you never thought could exist.

Two tall, lanky metal men lay side by side on the ground, water lapping at them gently. One was coloured like the day, yellows and golds decorating his strange figure. He wore strange pants decorated with red and yellow stripes, frills around his neck and waist, and ribbons on his wrists. Adorning his head was a crown of spikes, reminding you of the rays of the sun. His face had a crescent shape on it, one side a different shade of yellow than the other, and his mouth was slightly agape, eyes closed as if asleep. 

The other one looked almost identical, but was decorated like the night, dark blues and greys covering his body. He dressed similar to his counterpart, but his pants were blue with stars on them, a matching cap of sorts affixed to his head. The crescent of his face was two drastically different colors, one half being blackened while the other was a light grey, reminiscent of a crescent moon. He too looked like he was asleep, almost peaceful. 

You looked over at the spectral crow that had alighted on the dock, and nodded your head towards the metal men as you spoke. “Are these the prophesied ones?” The crow slowly nodded its head before taking off with a caw, flying out of your sight. You clapped your hands together and turned to the crowd, looking between all of them. “I need some help bringing them to my home, please.” There were hushed whispers between the people, and Asmund stepped forward to help along with a few other reluctant men. 

It took 6 of the strongest warriors to carry the metal men to your little home, three for each as they seemed to weigh quite a bit despite being so thin. You instructed the men to bring them into your home, and they obliged, propping the two up against a wall next to a basket of herbs you had just dried. After waving the men away, you began to inspect the two, poking and prodding their supposed sleeping forms.

Their outer ‘shell’ was actually soft, feeling almost like skin, but cold to the touch. Their faces felt the same, and you wondered just how they worked when a strange sound came from the sun-themed one as you were inspecting the moon one. You jolted and stood up, taking a step back and holding your breath. Slowly, the metal man began to move, fingers twitching and sun rays rotating around his head slowly as he opened his eyes, their soft blue glowing like a candle in the dimness of your home. 

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, but once he did he jumped up, causing you to yelp in surprise as he began pacing around, hands tugging at the rays adorning his head while he rambled. He spoke in English, and you gave a silent prayer to Freyja for your gift of language, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to understand him.

“O-oh no, oh no! This is not good, no no no, not good! Oh gosh, what’s going on…” 

You stood there, watching him and not noticing the other one stirring, opening his eyes and looking at his counterpart before speaking. 

 “Sun, where the hell are we?”

He asked, standing and halting ‘Sun’, placing his hands on the others shoulders. ‘Sun’ shook, looking around the room nervously as he began to fiddle with his fingers. 

“I-I don’t know, Moon- oh! H-hello!”

His eyes landed on you and he gave you a nervous smile, ‘Moon’ looking at you as well, eyeing you skeptically. You smiled back, hiding your own nervousness as you took a step towards the two, holding your hands out in a peaceful gesture. “Hello. Please, do not be alarmed. You are in Norway, in my village. You are safe.” It felt weird to speak English, not used to it since you hardly ever needed to. Your assurances seemed to only slightly calm ‘Sun’, and ‘Moon’ let go of the others shoulders to cross his arms and stare at you.

“Why should we believe you? How did we get here in the first place? Did you kidnap us?”

He squinted his red eyes at you, almost causing you to shudder under their intensity. “I have no clue how you got here, you were found on the shore of the river. I had you brought here to my home. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but not believing me will make things very difficult for all of us.” You lowered your arms, putting one hand on your hip as you jutted it out to the side. (Ooh, sassy)

You stared at them for a moment before shrugging and turning away, beginning to sort through a small pile of herbs that sat on the table behind you. You heard them whisper between themselves before they went silent again. A few seconds later you felt a tapping on your shoulder, and you turned around to see ‘Sun’ tapping his pointer fingers together nervously. “U-um, we have decided that w-we believe you. Do you know by chance why we are here, though?” He asked, his voice wavering like a frightened child. 

You smiled softly, setting down the herbs you had in your hands and turned to face him. “As a matter of fact, I do. You were sent here to help protect my clan, or so the prophecy said.” You put your hands on your hips, looking between the two of them. ”Now, what are your names? I’m yðvarr náli, but you may call me vǫlva.” You watched as they looked at each other before looking back at you. 

“I-I’m Sun, and this is my brother Moon. What, um… language do you keep using? I don’t recognize it.”

You blinked at Sun, confused. “What do you mean? It’s Norse.” 

Sun frowned, and Moon sighed. “Old Norse, of course. We’ve been sent back in time. That’s just great!” 

The lunar ‘man’ threw his arms into the air in exasperation, and his brother turned to him, panicking. “T-time travel?! B-but that should be impossible!” 

Your eyes wandered from the blabbering of Sun to your doorway, where a spectral cat walked through the door. “Freyja, good to see you. I have a question.” The cat sat down and curled its tail over its paws, then nodded. “Is there such a thing as traveling through time?” The cat pondered for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“Who are you talking to?”

You looked up at Moon, who was watching you curiously. You looked back to the cat, only to see it had vanished. “Oh, nobody really.” 

He scowled at you, crossing his arms. “Uh huh, there was something in the room that you were talking to, but it’s gone now. What was it?” 

You groaned, sitting on a little stool that was nearby. “Sit, this may take a while.” The two obliged, sitting on the floor near you, looking at you almost like the children from the village did when they came to listen to your stories. 

It had been midday when you started your explanation, and it took until dusk to finish, the two telling you a bit about themselves in the process. “Wow…. you can use magic… that’s so cool!” Sun remarked, his eyes glowing brighter in the low light of your home. 

There was a knock at the door, and you stood up, stretching before walking over and opening the door to see Asmund standing there. “Asmund, come in! I’d like you to meet the two you’ll be helping to train into fine drengr like yourself.” You ushered the young man in, practically pulling him through the door into the warmth of your home. 

Asmund stood frozen, staring at the two animatronics, as they had told you they were called, sitting on the floor of your house, taking up quite a bit of room as they were so large. “Asmund, this is Sun and Moon.” 

You gestured to each respectively, and they both nodded their heads at him. Asmund blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Ahem, um, nice to meet you…? I’m Asmund.” The man seemed uncomfortable, to say the least. 

”This is Asmund, my childhood friend and one of the people who are going to train you.” You explained to Sun and Moon, seeing as they didn’t understand him.

You’ll have to fix the language barrier issue before they start training. 

Asmund grabbed your arm, dragging you outside, the sky painted with the coming night sky, stars just barely visible. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you don’t know what they’re capable of-” He began berating you, but you just lifted your hand, making him shut up. 

“Asmund, with all due respect, I know what I’m doing. And for you to not have faith in my decision is to not have faith in the gods, so I suggest you be quiet and help.” 

You snapped, already irritated with his behavior. Asmund looked at you like a wounded puppy before nodding and hanging his head in shame.

You sighed and gave Asmund a pat on his broad shoulder, then looked up at the darkening night sky. “You should go home, Asmund. It’s getting dark. I will see you tomorrow.” You removed your hand and turned, heading back into your house where Sun and Moon were waiting, standing over your table where you had been sorting herbs earlier. 

“Alright, sorry about that. Is there anything I can get to make you two more comfortable?” You asked, standing behind them. The two seemed to jolt slightly, turning around quickly to face you. Sun looked ashamed, while Moon was donning a deadpan expression. 

“Oh, n-no thanks! We’ll be perfectly fine for the night, yup! Although…” Sun spoke up, but trailed off at the end of his sentence. You were about to ask what the matter was when a loud chime echoed through your home, coming from Sun.

[BATTERY LOW. RECHARGE IMMEDIATELY.] 

Sun hid his face in his hands, seemingly embarrassed while Moon chuckled. You tilted your head, not quite understanding what was going on. Moon crouched down to your eye level, his soft chuckling trailing off as he spoke. “I know you don’t have electricity, but do you have anything to eat?” 

You blinked a few times, still not quite understanding but you nodded, shuffling over to where you kept your food. You grabbed a few things, then brought them over to where Sun was now sitting, still hiding his face. 

“Here, I brought you food. Eat while I get beds ready for you two.” You set down the food, which both of them begin to eat immediately. You turn and head to another part of your home, gathering some bedding while trying to think of a place to set it up for them, finally deciding on a spot near the door. 

You hummed as you set up their beds, lost in your thoughts when you felt something touch your shoulder. “Yes?” You asked, not even turning around to see who it was. After all, with your abilities and ties to the gods, it wasn't uncommon to get visits from strange beings.

“Uh, we’re done…. let us do that.” Sun’s voice spoke up from behind you, and you waved him off, continuing with your work. 

“No, you’re my guests, it’s the least I can do.” You finished making the beds and stepped back, turning to see that both Sun and Moon had been standing there, watching the entire time. “There! I’d suggest you get some rest or whatever, tomorrow is a big day for you.” 

The two looked at each other with slight concern on their features, but you just grinned up at them. Moon shuffled over to one of the beds, sitting down before sprawling out. The mass of pelts and blankets were too small for his large form, and the sight made you snicker. “So, what are we doing tomorrow then?” Sun asked, pulling your attention back to the sunny robot. 

“Tomorrow, I will teach you two my language.” You said, reaching up to give Sun a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Nothing to be worried about. Now, off to bed with you! I wake up at first light, so you will be too.” 

Sun sat down on the makeshift bed next to his brother, who seemed to already be asleep. You smiled at them one last time before extinguishing all the lights in your home, save for one candle you used to navigate to your own bed. Curling up under your blankets, you let out a small sigh before allowing your eyes to close and slumber take over.

#The Metal Vikingr #Viking au #daycare attendant au #daycare attendant x reader #my au #Ghosti's Viking AU #ask

[phoenixlionme]

Hiccup Haddock & Mirabel Madrigal Similarities

Usually, I am not a fan of cross-ships, but I have recently been reading an ongoing fanfic titled, “The Dragon and the Butterfly” by HotPatooty on archivesofourown. It’s an AU cross-ship between Hiccup Haddock of Dreamworks and Mirabel Madrigal of Encanto. After reading the story I actually like the idea of them together; I’ll always be a Hiccstrid shipper but this is a solid pair. In fact, the author mentioned they noticed a lot of similarities between the two. As such, I decided to make a post comparing the two.

1. Both are the lead protagonist of their own franchises - Hiccup for HTTYD franchise; Mirabel for Encanto franchise, I know they only have 1 movie but it’s highly likely they’re getting more because Chapek has described Encanto as Disney’s newest franchise.

2. Both are disabled - Hiccup lost his left leg at the end of the first movie (not seen in the above image); Mirabel has to wear glasses and has been wearing them since she was a small child.

3. Both are Brainy Brunettes (a trope of someone with brown/black hair is intelligent) - Hiccup has auburn hair (reddish brown); Mirabel has black hair.

4. Both are creative - Hiccup with his inventions; Mirabel with her embroidery.

5. Short for their age - Hiccup even gets his name from being the runt of his generation but he grows taller over the franchise; Mirabel’s official height has been stated to be 5′2″.

6. Looked down upon by their family and village for being different - Hiccup for being scrawny for a Viking and not having the typical Viking nature; Mirabel for being the only one of her family to not have a gift among her magical family.

7. Connection with the color green - Hiccup has green eyes, his outfits have some green in it, and his best friend (Toothless) has green eyes; Mirabel’s glasses are bright green, she’s in a green shard vision from her uncle, and she many similarities with said uncle who is connected to green.

8. Have a tense and complicated relationship with an adult figure they live with, who they desperately want to make proud, and said figure is seen as the leader of their village. Also, said figure is taller than them - Hiccup and his father, Stoick Haddock aka Stoick the Vast; Mirabel with her maternal grandmother, Alma Madrigal.

9. Both are dorky, helpful, mature, clumsy, sarcastic, intelligent, empathetic, funny, compassionate, forgiving, brave, deep sense of community, and encourage change within their respective communities.

10. Both bring about change in their village/family - Hiccup stops the Viking dragon war; Mirabel stops the harmful perfectionistic mindset in her family.

11. They go through a character arc that has them both growing a spine to stand up to their wrong-minded adult figures and become more self-confident.

12. They’re warnings are initially dismissed - Hiccup about the Dragon Hive being too dangerous; Mirabel about the cracks in Casita.

13. Both have a close bond with a non-human companion and said companion is very protective of them - Hiccup with Toothless, a dragon from a rare and powerful breed; Mirabel with Casita. a sapient house.

14. They have a changing relationship with the “perfect” person of their community - Hiccup with Astrid (the ideal Viking), as he crushes on her and she is as cold and dismissive to him as she is with the other teens but they both grow to have a close friendship and later romance; Mirabel with her oldest sister, Isabela Madrigal, seen as a “perfect” example of the Madrigals and is Alma’s obvious favorite grandchild, Isabela starts off rather aloof and haughty to Mirabel while Mirabel does look up to Isabela she is annoyed with how presumably perfect everything goes for Isabela and how her oldest sister is mean to her but they end the movie having a closer sisterly bond.

15. Both meet a long-lost relative who they haven’t since they were small but instantly connect with and share a physical resemblance with - Hiccup with his mother Valka Haddock, who he hasn’t seen since he was an infant but meet in the second movie, where he is 21; Mirabel with her maternal uncle Bruno Madrigal who she hasn’t seen since she was 5 but they meet during the movie.

16. Both go through their own slapstick humor in their respective franchises.

17. Both are leader like - Hiccup is more explicit because he’s the next Chief of Berk and becomes more of a better leader throughout the franchise; it’s implicit with Mirabel but she becomes the key to restoring Casita and the family bonds, with a popular theory being she’ll take on Alma’s role in the future, and she’s shown to be The Heart of the Madrigals.

18. Both start the movie having low self-worth and wanting to fit into their community somehow.

19. They have mythical/animal motif - Hiccup has a mythical motif with dragons; Mirabel has an animal motif with butterflied, specifically with yellow ones.

20. Both have shoulder-length hair.

21. Their respective franchises are connected to books - Hiccup’s is loosely adapted from a popular children’s series; Mirabel’s is inspired by the works involving magical realism and Colombian novelist Gabriel García Márquez.

#dreamworks #httyd #hiccup haddock #disney #encanto #mirabel madrigal #comparison #inspiration #my posts #fanfic #fanship #comparison analysis #would slay in stem

[waiting4inspiration]

A Secret World IV: Mother & Father

Summary: You take Hvitserk to meet your father, the King, because there are a few things is discuss after speaking with Gudrun. Hvitserk needs to learn your people's ways, and before the next full moon.

Warnings: small angst, fluff, strong language, magical elements, mentions of a war, mentions of death, dragon rider au, did you catch the reference to FOF??

Word Count: 2,286

A Secret World Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

Hvitserk has no idea what Gudrun had said to you, but he has a feeling that he’ll find out soon what it is because you’re pulling him through the hallways of the fortress in the side of the mountain. He doesn’t know where you’re leading him to in such a hurry, all he can focus on is how beautiful you look when you smile back at him and the way your hand feels in his as he holds on tightly because he doesn’t want to get lost in his maze-like castle.

When he tried to ask you what you were doing, you didn’t answer him. All you did was smile at him and carry on dragging him down the corridor.

You come to two giant doors, beautiful images of dragons carved in the wood almost distract Hvitserk from the guards that stand to attention the moment you arrive. Turning around to finally face him, you let out a sharp breath and quickly look over him, your hands moving to fix his appearance. “You’re going to meet my father. There’s nothing you need to worry about. He’s a kind man, but he is a king first and foremost so he should be treated with the utmost respect,” you start explaining, fixing his collar and pulling out a twig stuck between the material and his skin. He nods his head, repeating your words in his head as he continues to stare at your face. “And then there’s his dragon. Do not look it in the eye. People say that looking in its eye will turn you to stone, but I think that’s all just silly,” you laugh, lifting your eyes to his as you give him a small smile.

He tries to smile at your laugh, but your words have left him nervous and he looks up at the door, now dreading the dragon you say lies behind it. He swallows roughly.

“Don’t worry. The chances that he’ll even notice you are slim. He’ll probably be preoccupied with his mate; my mother’s dragon,” you whisper, resting your hands on his chest after you’ve straightened his vest.

“Will she be in there too? Your mother?” Hvitserk questions, making you hum and turn to face the wooden doors again. “And you?”

You turn your head over your shoulder, looking back at him with a smirk on your face. “Someone has to introduce you.”

And with that, you grab the round handles of the door and pull them open. Hvitserk wonders if they’re light or if you’re just stronger than he thought you are because you seem to open them with great ease.

As you step forward, Hvitserk follows. He can feel his heart racing in his ears, his tongue feels dry, and his palms sweaty. His eyes travel around the room and he can’t stop himself from staring at the waterfall that cuts through the far side of the room. It reminds him of that small one in the room he had woken up in. But that one can’t be compared to this one. It’s a wonder that this room hasn’t been washed away yet.

The waterfall has an opening that surely leads outside and it’s what provides the room with all the light. As Hvitserk turns his eyes up to the ceiling, he notices something else. It looks like streams of gold he and his brothers would find in England. It weaves through the rocks of the ceiling, reflecting the light from the opening of the waterfall beautifully, highlighting the sprays from the waterfall every now and then.

He almost bumps into you, his eyes landing on the centerpiece of the room; two thrones carved into the stone. One seats who he concludes as your father and the other for your mother. Hvitserk can see you get your beauty from your mother, the queen that sits in the most regal clothing he has ever seen, and a crown made of probably the very gold embedded in the walls of this room.

But when he looks at your father - the man who stands in front of his own throne - Hvitserk can see something of the man in you. Perhaps it’s the look in his eyes, the look that even though you’ve seen it all, every day is like a new one.

You kneel, making Hvitserk fall to his knee as well, and he drops his head in respect when he remembers your words about showing your father respect. Then, he hears a rumble on the other side of the room, across from the waterfall. He turns his head ever so slightly. There, two dragons lay seemingly asleep.

One is a dark black, darker than your dragon and mightier than yours. It lays curled up beside a smaller, white dragon. Hvitserk wonders which one is your father’s.

When the black dragon opens an eye, Hvitserk immediately turns his gaze away.

“My dear daughter, to what do I owe this pleasure?” your father speaks, making you stand and walk forward. Hvitserk doesn’t know if he should stand as well or not, but he risks it and stands with you. He’s about to step forward but freezes when he sees your mother holding up a hand to stop him, a soft smile on her face. She’s trying to help him.

You look back at Hvitserk for a moment before looking at your father again. “Well, I’m sure you know about the man I brought in from Outside,” you mention, stepping to the side to introduce Hvitserk. “I took him to see Gundrun-”

“Ah, yes. The witch on the mountain,” your father says with some disdain in his voice. It makes Hvitserk a bit more nervous.

“Father.”

“Tell me, boy,” your father says, ignoring your quiet beg for him to be nice as he sets his eyes on Hvitserk like he’s an intruder. “What did you think of the old witch?”

His eyes quickly dart to you as he swallows. Your reassuring nod doesn’t do anything to quell the rapidly beating heart in his chest. “She reminded me of the seer from where I come from. Wise and all-knowing,” Hvitserk says, wondering whether or not his words were the right ones, especially when he hears the dragons rumble across the room.

Your father gives an amused, short laugh, making your mother stand from her seat and walk forward. “Now, Birger. Just because someone new doesn’t agree with your views does not mean they are in the wrong.” The way your mother speaks reminds Hvitserk of his own mother. Calm and serene. It’s just like there’s this ethereal glow around her. It’s hard to imagine her riding a beast such as one of the dragons in the corner of the room. When she reaches him, walking past you and your father, she holds out her hands for him and Hvitserk doesn’t think twice about placing his hands in hers. “Tell me, child, what is your name?”

“Hvitserk. My name is Hvitserk, son of Ragnar Lothbrok.” He doesn’t know what power his father’s name has in this strange place. From the unbothered look on your father’s face and the still calm look on your mother’s, he can tell that they don’t know who Ragnar is.

“Hvitserk.” The way your mother says his name calms him down and makes a smile grow on his face. She turns his hands over, her eyes falling to his palms. His gaze follows, wondering what she’s looking at. “You have the hands of a fighter, Hvitserk. If I remember correctly, (Y/n) found you injured on the edge of the Great River?” she asks, looking to you for you to answer her. You nod. “You have fought in many battles?” she asks, this time, looking at Hvitserk.

He nods his head and runs his tongue over his lips. “My brothers and I would travel to England, across the sea, and raid the lands there,” Hvitserk explains, keeping his eyes on your mother.

Your father, Birger scoffs, drawing your attention as well as Hvitserk’s as he turns to walk back to his throne. “You see? He is a barbarian who takes from those who cannot defend themselves,” he sneers. And for the first time, Hvitserk feels a pang of guilt for that. Your father’s way of speaking has such power, Hvitserk can definitely see him riding a dragon. Perhaps the black one in the room.

“You always told me that we cannot change where we come from, but we can change where we go,” you state, turning to face your father that has now come to a halt in front of his throne. “He may come from a way of life that you consider barbaric, but he’s not on that path anymore. We can teach him our ways. The way that has been passed down to us by those that found this place, the way that allows us to live and ride with creatures that breathe fire.” Hvitserk’s eyes snap to you at the mention of that and then he looks to the dragons across the room. As if they couldn’t get any more terrifying.

Birger turns around, slowly, and you raise your eyebrows to try and convince him to listen to you. “How can we trust him? How do we know he won’t take what we teach him back to his army so they can attack us?” your father questions, his gaze falling on Hvitserk again and this time it feels heavy.

Both you and your mother turn to look at Hvitserk, waiting for him to answer the question. He looks between the three of you, takes a deep breath, and finally looks back to your father. “The last I saw of my home and of my brothers, we were at war. I am not sure there is anything left for me back there,” he sadly says, turning his gaze down to the floor.

You look at him in sorrow for a moment before looking at your father again, giving him a silent gaze to tell him that it’s alright to trust Hvitserk. “I saw smoke beyond the Great River, more or less in the direction I think his home is,” you state, Hvitserk’s head snapping up to you.

His heart aches to think that Kattegat is burning.

Looking back at Hvitserk, your father’s eyes burn into him and you know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that gaze. You were there when you had brought Hvitserk in without your father’s permission. It’s because of your mother that he’s still here. You only hope that it will be her voice of reasoning that will allow him to stay.

With a defeated sigh, your father looks back to you. You have to fight to hide the victorious smile you feel pushing through. “You will take the responsibility of teaching him our ways and making him part of our society,” he firmly says.

Hvitserk looks back at you when you take a step forward and nod your head. “I will, father.”

“Then it will be on your head if our solitude falls because of him,” he responds, looking back at Hvitserk with a colder stare in his eyes. “No harm is to come to my daughter in any way, do you understand?” he questions Hvitserk.

He knows exactly what he means by that. If he does what he guarantees he won’t do - leading a siege to destroy this haven of Dragons and Riders - you will take the blame for everything and he’s not sure what will happen to you but he has a feeling it will not be any good. Your father is asking Hvitserk to spare you that harm. As well as anything else that may come around.

Hvitserk slowly turns his gaze to you, a smile growing on his face at the thought that he’ll be spending time with you as you teach him the ways of your people. It will be something new, something neither of his brothers have done. Not even his father has done this. He is the first of his family to do this and it excites him even more.

Not to mention that you saved his life. It’s only fair that he should protect yours in return.

“I’ll protect her with my life,” Hvitserk says, his words making your head turn to him and you give him a grateful nod/

“Then it is settled. We will welcome you into the society on the next full moon,” your mother says, stepping away from Hvitserk and turning around with such poise, it’s almost as if she’s floating.

You walk to Hvitserk’s side, place a hand gently on his arm to escort him out the room, and you let out a soft sigh. “That gives me a month to teach you everything,” you whisper, walking with him towards the doors again.

“Is it a lot to learn?” he questions, keeping his voice as soft as yours. Especially when you both walk past the still sleeping Dragons.

“Well,” you start, shrugging your shoulders, “you’ll have to learn everything that took me my whole life to learn. So, I’d say it’s quite a bit.”

Hvitserk’s not sure if you’re nervous about it or if you’re already starting to regret agreeing to this. But he can tell that you’re not going to give up from the smile that grows on your face. “I’d say I have the best teacher,” he whispers, having no control over his words and unable to stop them from leaving his tongue.

You chuckle, closing the doors behind you now that you’ve exited the throne room, and folding your arms over your chest as you look up at him again. “We’ll see about that.”

#hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk whiteshirt #hvitserk imagine #vikings #vikings hvitserk #vikings fic #a secret world #dragon rider au #hvitserk x dragon rider reader

[ghouljams]

Gnnh. Mii brainrot intensifies.

I am in love with your Viking!AU, because I’ve always been fascinated by this civilisation. This is probably why I’ve been having thoughts about a völva!reader (völur for men), a prophetess in Germanic paganism, the kind of woman who was told to be feared and revered by both mortals and gods alike because of their inextricable link to Fate. Even Odin was said to consult them. They had a powerful role in politics, as well as in everything spiritual and magical in their society. From what I’ve read, women already had a high status in the societies of the North (I like this name, for some reason - it gives them a mystical and powerful aspect in my eyes), and those northern witches were thought to be descendants of the Jötun. Their stories are really interesting ; if you haven’t read about them already, I think you would really like them.

So, to come back to the Viking!AU, I could really see one of the guys with a völva as a darling. For some reason, I immediately picture Price or Ghost ; maybe because I am biased and love them so much, but probably also because of the fact that I could see them to be almost « worshipping » their darlings. It would probably be challenging for them to try and get the attention of such a powerful and mystical being, but I could see the end result to be worth all the efforts and frustration (and the whole « I’m so needy for her » part too).

Perhaps they would stumble upon her as she is praying the gods (Freyja, Odin and Sif were apparently the deities dedicated to the völva/völur, mainly the first one as she is deeply associated with all kinds of magic). It could be a beautiful, mesmerising scene filled with things bringing all 5 senses (and maybe more ?) to attention. Since those priestesses were threatened by the rise of Christianity, the warriors would probably feel the need to protect such a sacred being. I could see this character getting close to the Healer!reader, discussing herbs and magical recipes.

I hope I’m not being too overwhelming. I just love paganism and magic so much, everything about it is so interesting.

As always, lots of love on you Friend. You may not be too well, but know that I’m not really either, and that your writing always makes things better for my little head. Please, take care and stay safe <3

As usual y'all find ways to engage me special interests and also

Mii, you're putting Witch in the Viking au. You're giving me another opportunity to use my favorite special little girl who I am insanely brain rotten for. Obviously I'm going to put her with Price, obviously. Although I do love Ghost as a worshiper.

I will disclaimer, the viking au is not magical. There's no "real" magic that the völva!reader could perform, like Witch does. But from a religious standpoint I do fucking love it.

Price obviously is heading, captaining, the expedition Soap is on. Big scary viking man who sits around pissed because he's gotta be away from home and out from under the blessed eyes of his lovely völva. He's good at his job, he loves his job, loves his boys, but he misses the pretty priestess back home. Of course you never give him the time of day, too busy communing with the gods and doing your religious duties, managing politics and all that. You probably don't even notice him lingering around the temple, trying to find the right words to ask if you'd like to share a meal with him. Have you noticed that he always brings you something from his trips? Do you pet the soft furs he brings you and think of him? Do you run your fingers along the ridges of the shells he gives you? Do you know him? Do you want to?

Oof lots of pining in this au. The viking au is for pining.

#ghoul speaks #cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #oc: witch #hey friends I'm sorry that I have made price and witch my otp #but really you can't offer me a witch and mention that price could be her lover #and expect me to be normal about it #viking au #völva!witch

[ezra-iolite]

Law of the Valiant Ramblings: Part 1

Story/Campaign Location

So... I have some OCs I really need to put out there, just to prove that I'm not entirely obsessed with Transformers... well, only a little. 😅 I've been benching this project of mine for some time now due to how complex and vast it is, but now I feel like I can finally work on it again.

In short, it's a novel I've been working on for a long time now, called "Law of the Valiant: The Bronzemoon Legacy" and it's going to be a series of books, if it ever does become more than just a personal project and turn into an actual original story to be published somewhere.

Luckily, this is a shared project I've been hammering away at with my boyfriend for the last 3-5 years, out of the 6 we've been together... it really says something about how impactful DND is, doesn't it? ¬w¬ But it all thanks to him, in the end! He helped me create my own character, how to understand the rules of DnD, and because I have no one to really play a session with, we created our own campaign, mainly based on our very own homebrewed world and races. It's gotten so big, we literally created an entire pantheon that has different deities based on the races and cultures of the entire world, alongside how each island/country is run.

So... screw it. I'm gonna infodump about it here and see where it takes me. Enjoy the long read!! Also, @tigracespace , @exileandtrust , or anyone else with a DnD AU or OC, you're more than welcome to take snippets of this lore if it'll help you in any way! 🥰 Just give credit where it's due!

(Also yes, I signed the picture to prevent any eejits from taking it for themselves, since this is actually my BFs casual work. We worked too hard on this together for it to be used without my consent! 🤬)

~*~

For this post, I'll start with the world that "Law of the Valiant" takes place in.....

The campaign/story occurs within a world that mainly consists of islands clustered at the tail of the Valian Empire, with the biggest island being the land of Kernai. For convenient purposes, when referring to everything you see on this map as a collective, the entire world can also be called Kernai, only because most of the action occurs on that island.

Moving in a clockwise manner, we'll start on the bottom left corner of the map to describe each island within the vast world shown here...

Leviathan's Veil: Said to be the birthplace of the world's magic, as well as the original home to the dragons and magical fauna that now inhabit the rest of the world, the floating islands are eternally shrouded in mists that force any who foolishly approach by boat or airship to turn back towards the mainland, no matter the mechanical tools or magical help they use to ensure their path keeps towards the floating archipelago. But even if they do find the means of passing through the protective magical fog, they will soon learn why these floating islands are only accessible by air, and why the entire area, mainly the shielding mists, are called Leviathan's Veil...

Soultorn Isle: At the heart of this craggy island, where it is said that one's lifeforce is drained from you upon setting foot on its cold, granular surface, dwells a tower that serves as a dark omen to any who are foolish enough to approach this island. For deep within its dark, skyward walls are its prisoners... the Mind Flayers, once an advanced civilization that had originally conquered all of Kernai and its inhabitants to become their willing slaves. No one remembers what led to their disappearance into the depths of the prison tower, but what they do know is that any who dare make it across the island and into the tower are never seen again.

Namdia: A land purely made of rock and ice, only those who's bodies and spirits are equal in strength have any chance at surviving on this island... And yet the fur-cladded (Viking-like) humans and Tabaxi who call this place their home have since thrived in their underground kingdom, one that is run by traditions consisting of the use of steam pipes built by their Dwarven founders, trade with their neighbors only ever performed on the icy tundra above their kingdom to ensure its secrecy, and their practiced use of control over the embodying elements of the island, of earth, fire and water.

Thesbia: Thousands of years ago the island was once home to the mountain-sized Giants, that is until the arrival of the first humans, the earliest known instance after "The Great Divide" that would split the world between humans and humanoids. Now, only their human-hybrid descendants, the clan-armored Titans (who now only reach under 10 feet in height), remain as the sole protectors of their ancestral home. Roaming the island with their swords and axes in hand, they live alongside the savannah dwelling Leonin, the forest based Centaurs, the mountain clambering Minotaurs, and many other humans and humanoids in the Greek-Romanesque kingdom. The inhabitants of Thesbia, mainly the once colonial and explorative Leonin, are mostly known for their hand in the creation of the magic barrier that keeps out the northern chill from half the island, caused by a war that destroyed the upper half of the island and turned it into the three sectors split by climate... the warm south, the icy mountain split, and the magically-created desert north.

Torbroch: An island entirely inhabited by Orc and Goblin tribes, it is under the rule of the xenophobic and prideful Order of the Four Fangs, who guide the chieftains and leaders of the tribes and punish any who trespass on the island or form a half-breed offspring with one of the tribe folk with the death penalty.

Valia/The Valian Empire: The "Cradle of Humanity" and the deathbed of Kernai's magic, Valia is a country ruled by the iron fist of Emperor Solias Valis and the (Victorian) caste based culture of science and steam-powered machinery, all at the cost of free will for the lesser populace and the prejudice against magic and the people outside the empire's rule. Under the city of Valiento dwells a city of criminals, undesirables (aka humanoids and disabled folk alike) and forgotten Warforged, struggling to get by day by day in the eternal twilight of the city, a city only known as the Hive. It is run by the Upper Guards, those sent by the Emperor himself to control the "beastly folk", with the elite amongst them being the Lightning Riders and the Plague Bearers, as well as a few notable gangs who run the underbelly of the Hive, such as the Azumites and the Warforged Time Lords. There's even word of a Warforged who wanders within the Hive, built to embody the Emperor in his younger days and act as his second hand, with a mind containing all his memories but without any of the human need for fear or fatigue. This project is known only as The Emperor's Shadow.

Azuma: Once a prosperous and bountiful oriental kingdom, Azuma was governed by an Emperor named Daijo Ori'ai alongside his Council of Lords, who in turn governed each major city across the island kingdom. Some years ago, Azuma was conquered by the Valian Empire as Emperor Solias enslaved the kingdom to fund his research into understanding Kernai's magic for his use. As insurance against a rebellion, Solias stole the Daijo's youngest heir, Prince Ai'Maketa, and made him a guinea pig for his assistant, the amortal alchemist Doctor Blanca Nyx. The young prince is still trapped in Valia, bound by Blanca's binding runes branded onto him that ensnares his own elemental power and ability to escape, while unbeknownst to him the kingdom of Azuma now lies in ruin, nothing more than a barren wasteland of ash and death after the successful test of Solias's newest weapon.

Hell's Gate: A haven for pirates and fleeing rogues alike, the archipelago consists entirely of sharp rocks between barely habitable islands, making travel by boat near impossible to those who do not frequent its protective harbor. One island, however, lies deep within its craggy clutches, and is home to the Pirate Matron.

Kilvaani's Rest: Home to the Scholar's Academy, the Great Library, and one of the biggest temples to the God of Knowledge, Kindness and the Four Winds, Aeori; this small kingdom is ruled by the last Tiefling of noble blood, Princess Lyria, who survived one of the Empire's many early crusades across Kernai in its attempt to control the land of Kernai. Since then, Kilvaani's Rest has become walled off against any who are not proven scholars in pursuit of humble and peaceful knowledge, earning the kingdom's nickname of the Fortress College.

The Khanaran Desert: Home to the struggling Tieflings of the small, and the only place that's habitable, village of Aesyir (the rest being scattered across the island of Kernai), the slaver Nagas of Cathargo and the pyramid temple to Akri, the prosperous and proud Aarakocra of the northwestern city of Aerkin, and the Dragon Rider clans on their side of the Silverthroat Mountains. It was here that the once white sands were turned red from the multitude of wars fought, between the earliest civilization of Dwarves and Tieflings (who would later establish their first kingdoms at the end of this war, later to be known as the Khanaran War) against their former masters of the Demon Court, Prince Oxarus the Eternal Flame and Thogodius the Fool; between the once prosperous Tiefling and Naga kingdoms, a war that drove both kingdoms to ruin and forced both races into a dwindling memory of their former selves; the more recent war between the Dragon Riders and the forces of the Valian Empire, one that has brought ruin to the desert through the glass forests and graveyards of airship and dragon skeletons.

The Emerald Valley/The Kingdom of Whitecliff: Consisting entirely of lush farmland, homely villages, outposts for stationed guards to help protect the region, some villas and vineyards for the nobility, and the ancestral Mathaerin Forest, the last part of the once towering forest that covered the entirety of the valley before The Great Divide. This region is ruled by two governing bodies rather than just one kingdom; the imperial capital city of Whitecliff, and the Agrarian Council, consisting entirely of farmers and important members of the community per village all across the Valley. While the council does report to the king of Whitecliff, it is a symbiotic relationship of equal trade of labor and fair pay in exchange for peace and safety. This safety comes in the form of Whitecliff's elite knights, known as The Emerald Guard, who follow a strict code and seven years worth of training before being stationed in one of the many outposts across the Emerald Valley. To ensure that the Emerald Guards never bring fear or harm to the people, the royal court mages created a curse on the armour of every guard who graduates from training that would only ever activate the moment the curse's words came true...

"Only the blood of tainted hearts may touch the green you wear. For if your plating should turn black, their weight in blood you shall forever bear."

It is also here where the story begins, in the small farming village of Alentou, built to support travelling farmers and merchants journeying to and from the capital or Hammerdeep and the forest city of . Quiet and dull, the lakeside village has everything one could need to live a humble country life, including the tavern known as the Daisy Djinn Inn, owned and run by a retired Rune Knight-Fighter Mountain Dwarf named Maddie Bronzemoon-Diazerae, and her entire family... consisting of her adoptive Elven mage sister and co-owner, Daisy Bronzemoon, Maddie's Rogue-Ranger Tiefling husband, Calder Bronzemoon-Diazerae, alongside their seven children; Bula Bronzemoon-Diazerae (Calder's half-orc daughter from a past relationship with a Torbroch chieftain's daughter), Garth Silverfang, Layla Bluemoon, Daisy's twins Raevyrn and Allora, Wren and baby Lorelai. More will be explained about those in orange in the next post...

The Silverthroat Mountains: At the foot of the mountains, on the western side, resides the great Mathaerin Forest, home to the High and Wood Elves, Centaurs, canine Leshen, forest spirits, and a plethora of both dangerous and docile magical fauna hidden within the protective tress of old. Deeper still within the forest, you will find trees that nearly reach half the height of the mountains, wider than any standard house, and their trunks containing the ruins of the very first homes of the ancient Erikeans who lived in early Kernai. But at the heart of this forest lies the High Elven capital, Silvervale. None are permitted to enter its stronghold walls unless they are merchants with an invite from the Mathaerkin/Matron Queen, a badly injured person on the brink of death seeking refuge (which by their code they must offer help but with tight security to ensure none are harmed while they are within their walls), or a fellow Elf.

If you travel along a path hidden within the forest, only known by those with experience journeying to this location, you will come across your first obstacle through the mountains... the Dragon Riders. Clans consisting of many mixed races but all bearing the exact same defining features that unite them as their own separate kingdom and community, of scales along their arms, back and cheeks, reptilian eyes, and never without their loyal dragon steeds to help protect their mountain home. The clans are divided into two based on where they live... the western Glacial tribe that help protect the Emerald Valley from large or country-wide threats such as delivering goods to help alleviate a famine or defend the mountain path against any Valian spies, and the eastern Sun tribe who continue to fend off the Valian Emperor's men from the shores of the Eastern Gap and their side of the mountain path through the Khanaran Desert.

However, if you manage to get by the Dragon Rider guards and follow the path to the largest mountain within the Silverthroat range, you will finally come to the grand stone gates of the underground Dwarven kingdom, arriving first to its capital city of Hammerdeep. Rocky structures made with golden details and steam pipes will be the first thing you see, alongside a bustling market as far as the eye can see, for Hammerdeep is the true heart of all crafter based trade within Kernai, mainly jewelers, stonecarvers, and the biggest trade being sword and blacksmithing. The city is run by a family-clan based hierarchy, while the rest of the kingdom is ruled by a council made up of the most powerful and providing clans, much like Whitecliff and its agricultural council. The largest and most influential clan are the Bronzemoons, the surviving descendants of Hammerdeep's heroic founder, Boic "Bravesoul" Bronzemoon, and one of the best family of blacksmiths and swordsmiths due to their use of runework and artistic craftsmanship, with their emblem being a bronze Celtic knot style crescent moon branded on anything they create.

~*~

And that's the world of Kernai for you! Sorry for this being so long, but as you can tell a LOT of work has gone into this over the years. So feel free to tell me your thoughts on how I could improve this, and enjoy the fruits of the labor my boyfriend and I have created together. And eventually I'll get around to posting about the OCs for this world, including my boyfriend's character, Calder~

Thank you so much for reading. ^w^

#Law of the Valiant DnD Story #long post #ezra iolite og work #dnd5e

[the-original-hybrid-niklaus]

♚

willow

[Note: this is an AU where Caroline is born on the same era as Klaus Mikaelson. Also, he’s still human here.]

It was a beautiful night in the village located in Mystic Falls. It was the beginning of the new millennia and Klaus is spending the night by the docks, looking at the beautiful crescent-shaped orb that is glistening in the night sky, alone, only with his graphite and papyrus. It was after his usual day of being beat up by his drunken and very angry father. The bruises on his face and body are still sore but he paid it no mind as he continued to sketch as a way to relieve the pain that he doesn’t just feel physically but also emotionally. As Klaus was drawing his pain away, a ship rolled in that night. Getting lost in his thoughts and the viking song he was humming, he didn’t notice the ship until it was right beside him, blaring their horns. That startled the young boy and he almost dropped his graphite in the water. The passengers started to unboard the ship, and Niklaus took that as a sign to hurry home to their hut before his father realises that he is not in his bed sleeping. In his hurried movements, he bumped into a blonde girl, who is the most beautiful girl that Klaus has ever seen.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” He said, bowing down to the girl as a sign of respect. She looked like she’s part of the royalties that Klaus heard stories about when he was younger.

“It’s alright. I am not hurt.” The girl responded, smiling at him and reaching out to touch his shoulder, noticing the bruises on his body. Niklaus relaxed when she felt her touch and he smiled shyly at her. All of his worries and pain were washed over by that smile of hers. There was an undeniable connection between the two individuals. Niklaus felt it and kept thinking about it on his way home. The worry and anxiety that was brought by the fear his father might hurt him once again was not present at the time.

Days went by, and the pair started hanging out by the docks where they met. Niklaus was teaching the girl how to draw and mix paint. They’ve learned so much about each other as well, how she was from another land called France, and how his father hated him but he still seeks validation and love from him. They were quite the pair.

Niklaus has never felt something like this before. He felt as if he was swayed by the current that is Caroline. She was like a magical water that washed away all of his pain and worries, his anxiety and fears. For the first time in his life, he felt peace and happiness. He felt as if he deserved the things she’s making him feel, the friendship that she has offered him, the company and the love and connection that exists between Klaus and Caroline. She was his solace, his real home in the world where he feels safe and fittingly, he was hers. She feels like a mythical thing, something surreal that he had to pray to the gods to make sure she’s real and she’s in his life.

It was like the song “willow” where she tells him to wait for her signal and meet her after dark, so that he can show her the places where his father gave her scars. She wanted to know more than just his name. He wanted to know and understand his pain on a level that nobody else did. And she did. He told her everything, the things that bring him joy, and also the things that bring him sorrow. Caroline knew him in a way nobody ever did, not even his brother Elijah knew it. It sure felt good on Caroline’s part to be trusted like that by this beautiful boy he met on the docks.

And that’s how their love story began.

#klaus mikaelson #the originals #freya mikaelson #hayley marshall #kol mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson icons #joseph morgan #caroline forbes #klaroline #klaroline au #willow

[viking-raider]

A Cavill Christmas - III

Summary: It's the town's annual Christmas tree lighting ceremony and all is revealed. But the truer question is, do you believe or not?

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 5,801

Previous Parts: I II

Warning: PG-13 - Christmas!AU, Scientist!Reader, Non-Actor!Henry, the Arctic, Language, Angst, Fluff, Secrets, Jealousy, Gift Giving, Test of Faith, Arguing, Mixed Signals, Magic - (if you believe), Relationship Issues

Inspiration: This is obviously for Cavillmas and has influence for a bunch of different places.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

You rose and dressed, going downstairs to have breakfast, like you had every morning since you were strong enough. But found only one place set for breakfast at the table in the kitchen, and no one else around.

“Penelope?” You called out, peeking in the sitting room, where she usually was, either reading or knitting something, but didn't see her or get a reply. “Henry?” You called out next in the quiet house, and still no answer. “Where are they?” You frowned, going back to the table to eat your breakfast.

Finishing your breakfast and going back upstairs, you got dressed and went out, looking around the street, without a clue where to look for Henry and Penelope first. You thought about going over to Dr. and Ms. Lehto's, maybe visiting Dr. Elliot for a short while, then returning to see if one of them came back to the house, when something hit your foot; you looked down and saw a ball resting against it.

“Sorry!” A little boy yelled, charging up to you.

“That's all right.” You smiled, leaning down and picking the ball up. “No harm done.” You assured him, holding the dripping ball out to him. “Say, do you know where I can find Mr. Cavill at?” You asked, pointing up to Henry's house, in empathizes.

“Yeah! He's probably at the factory!” The boy replied, taking the ball from you and tucking it underneath his arm.

“He's Santa, you know!” Another boy said, behind the first.

You chuckled at the boy, shaking your head. “Is he now?” You smirked at them.

“Yeah, he makes toys.” A little girl amidst the boys, grinned.

“Well, I can see where that would make him like Santa.” You laughed, amused by the childish comparison.

“But, he really is.” The boy with the ball under his arm insisted.

“Of course, he is.” You nodded, patting him on the head. “So, where is this factory?” You asked them, brows lifting under the edge of your beanie.

“It's the big building across from the town Christmas tree.” The boy told you, pointing down the street.

“Thank you.” You smiled at them, giving them a small wave, before heading that way.

You weren't sure how you had missed the building, when Henry was showing you around town the day before, but, there it was, several meters beyond the town square. There was only one door that you saw at the front of it, and entered. Sure enough, to your surprise, the building was a factory for making toys, and not of just one kind either, like most toy making companies, everywhere you looked, there was another station of someone making a different type of toy.

“Can I help you?”

You started and cleared your voice. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” You gulped, licking your lips. “I'm looking for Henry.” You told him, sheepishly.

“Mr. Cavill is busy right now. So, why don't--”

“What are you doing here?” Henry called out, appearing through a doorway.

“She's looking for you.” Aram sighed, knowing Henry was going to get distracted.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked, quickly striding over to you, his eyes looking you over as he approached.

“I'm fine. I just woke up this morning and neither you nor Penelope were in the house. There was just breakfast on the table for me.” You explained to him. “I was worried something had happened and came looking for you.”

“No, everything's fine. Though, Penelope not being there is a bit strange.” Henry frowned down at you. “I went over to Ölnir Ottoson's home, he has the radio system in the village, to see if I could contact the Survey center for you. We tried calling the Arctic Airport for the channel that the Survey is on, but we lost contact with them before we could get it. Ölnir promised to try all the channels he could, in an attempt to get a hold of them, and would tell me what he got.”

“Okay, I really appreciate that.” You replied, biting your lip. “Is this your factory?” You asked, looking around.

Henry sighed and looked around too. “In a way, yes, it is.” He replied, meeting Aram's eye over your head. “Let me show you around.”

“Henry, we're--”

“Aram, I have all the faith of the world in you.” Henry stopped him, lifting a brow at him. “Come on.” He smiled at you, resting his hand on the small of your back and gesturing down the walkway, between the workstations. “This...this is Malm Toys. Sikká's family owns the company, and I help them run it. It's started out very small, with the shop next door, her father still runs it, making his personal handcrafted toys for the people in the village, while we mass produce toys for wider market, mostly the Scandinavian countries and the United Kingdom, but other countries also have our toys on their shelves, here.” He explained as the two of you stopped at a station, where a woman was painting an expertly made wooden truck.

“You know, the kids call you Santa?” You chuckled, looking up at him.

Henry smiled at you. “I am Santa.” He smirked at you.

The woman painting the truck paused and looked up at him, but you just laughed and shook your head at him.

“More of that, we're all Santa philosophy?” You asked, grinning at him.

“You know it.” He nodded, winking.

“So, where do you think Penelope is?” You asked Henry, as he showed you the rest of the factory and the other toys they made.

“She might have gone to see her mum.” He replied, picking up a finished doll and inspected it. “This time of the year is always hard, since Sikká's passing.” He said, quietly, setting the doll down.

You paused. “Penelope and your wife are sisters?” You asked, surprised.

Henry froze, realizing the words that had come out of his mouth. “Uh, yeah. They were.” He gulped, biting his lip and paling.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you, while you're at work.” You said, eyes panning around, pressing your lips together, feeling awkward. “I'll just head back and mind my own business, like I should be.” You turned away from Henry, and rushed down the aisle, ignoring him calling after you.

“What was that?” Aram asked, standing beside Henry, and watching you shove out the door of the factory.

“Nothing, I just should have kept my mouth shut.” Henry replied, shaking his head. “I'll be in my office, crunching the numbers again, if you need me.” He said, walking away.

“That man needs to get laid.” Aram commented, shaking his head, and getting a dirty look from a worker that overheard his comment.

Ölnir tried one last channel, before resting back in his chair and pulling off his headphones, tossing them onto the table with the radio microphone.

“What's wrong, Ollie?” Mette asked, coming into the room with a steaming cup of coffee.

“The radio isn't working.” He replied, shaking his head at the system set up in front of him.

“What's wrong with it?” She asked, resting her hands on her husband's tense shoulders and began massaging them.

“I haven't a clue.” He sighed, pressing his lips together. “The tower is fine and nothing is unplugged or wired incorrectly.”

“Perhaps, it's not our radio, my love.” Mette replied, kissing the top of his head. “Maybe, it's the radio of whomever you're calling?”

“I tried seventeen different radio channels, mama, and received not a single answer from any of them.” Ölnir answered, leaning his head back and looking up at her. “I highly doubt there is such an issue that not one radio couldn't communicate back to me from at least one of those seventeen, unless it wasn't our radio that was having the issue.”

Mette nodded her head, even though she understood very little about the device her husband ran for their village. “Well, if anyone can fix it, it's you, Ollie.” She reassured him, kissing his forehead.

“Thank you for your faith, mama.” Ölnir smiled, reaching up to rest his hand on hers. “Will you have Mads run out and tell Henry that I couldn't get any contact with anyone, and that I have to find out what's wrong with the radio, then I'll try again?” He asked her.

“Yes, of course.” She nodded, patting his shoulders and kissing him again, before going out to find their son, playing out in the snowy street.

When Henry returned home that night, he found you in your room, with a book he had let you borrow.

“I'm sorry about bothering you, at the factory.” You told him, setting the book down.

“It's all right.” He shook his head, sighing. “I just came up to tell you, Ölnir couldn't get a hold of anyone. It seems his radio is having problems and he hasn't been able to get anything in or out. He doesn't know why, everything seems to be in working order, but he says he'll keep working on it, until he gets into contact with the Survey.” He explained to you, his eyes on the rug.

“So, it seems, until then, you and Dr. Elliot will be here a while longer.”

“Okay.” You nodded, rubbing the cover of the book between your thumb and index finger.

“I was wondering something.” Henry said, softly, shifting.

“Oh?” You answered, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“The town Elders light the Christmas tree tomorrow night. It's a big to-do for the whole village, it has been for generations.” He explained to you, tugging on the bottom of his jumper. “So, I was wondering, if you would like to accompany me to see it?” He asked, looking up at you and biting into his bottom lip, hopeful.

A smile tugged at your lip, seeing that almost shy, boyish hope on his face. “That sounds really beautiful and fun. So, I'd love to.”

Henry's face brightened. “Excellent.”

The following evening, You and Henry prepared to join everyone at the town square for the lighting of the massive Christmas tree. Penelope had left two hours before, to set up a stand where she would be making and passing out her famous hot cocoa to people attending the event.

“Are you ready for this?” Henry asked, opening the front door for you.

“I am!” You nodded, excitedly.

“Off we go, then!” He grinned, sweeping an arm out the door.

Chuckling, you stepped out into the cold night air and Henry followed after you, closing the door, and started down the sidewalk towards the town center with you. Almost everyone was in the town square, when you and Henry arrived, minus Dr. Elliot, of course, and Ms. Lehto, who was staying to watch over him. You waved at Penelope, smiling, and she waved back at you, but you could see her eyes weren't very happy, as she turned to serve someone a cup of cocoa as they came up to the stand.

“There's the Elders.” Henry whispered into your ear, pointing to a small stage to the left of the Christmas tree.

You looked away from Penelope and saw the five people filing onto the stage, three women and two men, all dressed in bright and traditional Sámi clothing. “I love their clothes.” You said, admiring them.

“The second woman on the right is Penelope's mum.” He added, quietly.

Your eyes shifted over to the woman, studying her face and nodded your head, you could see the resemblance between the two women. The crowd around you shifted and moved closer to the stage, you and Henry moving with them, before being swallowed in the middle of it. A hand came up from the front of the crowd, holding up a microphone, which the closest Elder stepped forward and retrieved, before stepping back again.

“We welcome you all to the annual Trømsvik's Christmas tree lighting!” The Elder spoke into the microphone, their voice coming out of two speakers set up on either side of the stage. “We ask, as we do every year, for a new year of prosperity and happiness. So, as we light the tree, ask for what you wish for in the new year.” She said, motioning to the tree.

“Oscar, please light the tree!”

A boy standing beside the tree nodded and bent down, picking up to cords and slotting them together. For a moment, the mostly darkened town square brightened with red, blue, green and white lights. You gasped seeing the tree in all its shining glory, a smile spreading across your face in your dazzled wonder.

“It's beautiful.” You cooed.

“Mmhm.” Henry hummed, but his eyes were on you, his breath taken away, seeing the lights in the tree sparkling in your eyes. “Very beautiful.” He whispered, realizing something quite suddenly, then cleared his throat and looked up at the tree.

“Now, for the gift giving!” The Elder proclaimed, grinning at the crowd.

“Wait, presents?” You squeaked, looking up at Henry.

“Yep!” Henry nodded, grinning down at you. “Come on, let's go get yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah! It would have been rude to exclude you!” He said, leading you through the crowd and towards the tree, which had the presents carefully placed underneath it.

“But, I wasn't prepared for any of this. I didn't get anyone here a present.” You told Henry's back, feeling bad that they had gotten you a present, but you hadn't given any of them one.

“Your presence here is a gift.” Henry told you, smiling over his shoulder.

“Doesn't seem very adequate.”

“Trust me, it is to me.” He replied, chuckling, getting into the line that was forming in front of the tree.

“Well, then I guess it's all right.” You whispered, caught off guard by his remark.

You both moved along with the line, one person after another getting their gift from under the tree, until you and Henry reached the front. The woman passing out the gifts smiled at Henry and glanced at you, before going beneath the fragrant needles of the tree, sorting through the packages, until she found the ones with your and Henry's names, turning back, and held them out to Henry, who took them from her.

“Come on, we'll get some hot cocoa and open them.” Henry said, leading the way to Penelope's stand, setting the presents on the counter and grabbing two cups, then pumping the piping hot cocoa into them from an insulated dispenser Penelope had set up, so she could get in line for her own present.

“Here you go, ma'am.” He smiled, holding one of them out to you.

“Thank you, good sir.” You smiled back, taking it from him.

“Let's take a seat over here and see what we've gotten.” He said, taking up his own cup and the two gifts, showing you over to an empty bench.

You sat down on the bench with Henry, sipping at your hot cocoa. “Why don't you open your present first?” You suggested, tilting your head at him.

Henry bit his lip but nodded his head. “All right.” He set your gift between you and his cocoa between his legs. “Let's see what I got this year.” He said, tearing off the wrapping paper.

“Who gives these presents? The Elders?” You asked, watching him.

“No. Usually family and friends.” He replied, crumpling up the wrapping paper and setting it to the other side of him. “They usually make or purchase the gift, and have it wrapped, then send it to the event coordinator, who then has them put it under the tree a few hours before the Christmas tree lighting event.” He explained, opening the box.

“Oh,” He grinned. “Mittens.” He pulled them out and admired them. “From Vera, I'm sure.” He said, taking off his gloves and trying on the mittens. “Go on, open yours.”

You carefully set your cocoa aside and picked up the package between you and Henry, gently peeling off the wrapping paper, which made Henry laugh. “What? It's really nice wrapping paper.” You defended yourself, looking over at him.

Folding up the wrapping paper and tucking it under your leg, you opened the box and found a brightly colored piece of fabric with a blue and yellow plaid design. You set the lid of the box aside and removed the fabric from the box. It was thick, but incredibly soft underneath your fingers, it had dark blue fringe along the edge of it, as you unfolded it.

“It's a duodji woven shawl.” Henry explained to you, biting his lip. “It's a traditional Sámi handcrafted piece. I saw it the other day and it made me think of you, so I got it for you.” He cleared his throat, taking a hasty gulp of his cocoa. “I was going to give it to you when you left, but seeing as you were here tonight, I wrapped it up and had them put it under the tree.”

“You got this for me?” You said, looking over at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, blushing, even though his cheeks were already red from the cold.

“I've always wanted something like this.” You grinned at him, hugging it against your chest.

“You want to take a walk with me?” Henry asked, looking around.

“Sure.” You nodded, tucking the wrapping paper from your gift in the side pocket of your snow pants and standing up with Henry, who took his wrapping paper and the empty boxes, and tossed them in a nearby trash bin.

“Miss?” Henry smiled, offering you, his arm.

You chuckled at him, unfolding your shawl and tossing it over your shoulders, before taking his arm. “Thank you for my shawl.”

“You're welcome.” He answered, walking away from the town square with you. “I'm super glad you like it.”

“I love it.” You corrected him, playfully. “This is such a nice and quaint place. I really like it here.” You said, looking around at the quiet and sparkling village. “It's very peaceful.”

“It gets even better, when you look up.” Henry said, tilting his head back.

“Huh?” You frowned, then tipped your head upward. “Oh wow.”

“Aurora Borealis.” Henry smiled at the lights in the starry sky. “One of Mother Nature's most incredible phenomenons.”

“You can say that again.” You mumbled, blinking up at it.

Henry looked down at you, watching you study the lights, feeling his heart skip a beat, the feeling from the lighting ceremony hitting him harder. It was a feeling he hadn't felt since he lost Sikká, and it was strong and pure as he looked at you. Biting his lip, he half turned towards you, you looked up at him and tilted your head at him. Taking a deep breath, Henry leaned in and kissed you, his hand reaching up and cupping the back of your head as he deepened it. You were completely surprised and caught off guard by Henry kissing you, stunning you into standing stock still for a long moment, your lips pressed to his and your eyes wide open, staring into his face. Letting out a breath, through your nose, you pressed your lips back against his, your hands resting on Henry's sides.

The kiss lasted for several long moments, before Henry broke away from you.

“Um...” You cleared your throat, grinning up at Henry.

Henry's hand slipped from behind your head to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I'm sorry, I just couldn't...help it.” He smiled, tilting his head at you, having the urge to kiss you again. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.” You nodded, biting your lip.

“I—uh...” Henry bit his lip, looking away from you. “I am actually him.”

“Who?” You replied, frowning at him, confused.

He took a deep breath. “Santa is real and I'm him.” He told you, looking down at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Come again.”

“I'm Santa.”

“You're playing with me.” You laughed, grinning and stepping back from him. “That's not real.” You said, shaking your head.

Henry pressed a fist to his chest and cleared his throat. “I'm not playing with you, I'm being serious, and not in an ideology or philosophy way either.” He told you, moving towards you. “I know that since you were a child you've wanted a Tartan Shawl.”

You stiffened, blinking up at him, then looked down at the shawl around your shoulders. “No.” You looked back up at Henry. “The story of Santa is thousands of years old, and you can't be.”

“I inherited it from a scared Sieidis, that's not very far from Trømsvik, not long after I arrived here with Sikká.” He tried explaining to you but saw you still didn't believe him. “Look at me.” He begged you, reaching out to cup your face, but you pushed his hands away.

“This isn't fucking funny, Henry.” You barked at him, angrily, pointing a finger at him.

“Please.” He whimpered, biting his lip. “I swear.”

“You really reeled me in.” You told him, before storming back into the village.

“Damn it!” Henry sighed, spinning away, his throat tight.

Penelope looked up as she heard the door open. “Dr. Hughes, are you all right?” She asked, seeing your face and the tears that streaked it.

“Do you know about his delusion?” You asked her, as you stood trembling in the living room doorway.

“What delusion? Who's?” Penelope asked, shaking her head, confused.

“Henry's.” You replied, sniffling and swallowing. “He thinks he's Santa. As if!” You huffed, laughing, and going upstairs, not waiting for her answer.

“Oh no.” Penelope sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, as the door opened again, and Henry came in.

“Is she here?” He asked, yanking off his beanie.

“She just went up to her room.” She replied, motioning to the stairs. “Did you really tell her you were Santa?” She asked, lifting a brow at him.

“I did.” Henry answered, dropping into a chair in the living room and started tugging on the knots in his boot laces.

“Why?” She barked at him, pressing her lips together.

“I'm in love with her.” He whispered, pausing in his task and glancing at her. “And I wanted her to know the truth.”

“You're an idiot.” Penelope told him, before stalking out of the living room and up the stairs to her own room.

“I'm starting to realize that.” Henry replied, before tossing his boot across the room with force.

You woke the next morning, reaching out for your robe, only to grab the shawl Henry had given you. Sighing, you tossed it over your shoulders and put your feet in your slippers, before going downstairs for breakfast, finding Penelope already there.

“Morning.” You bid her, helping yourself to the food and sitting down across from her.

“Morning.” Penelope replied, sipping her morning cup of tea.

The pair of you ate your breakfast in silence, last night still fresh in your minds and neither of you wishing to speak about it. The mud room door opened, admitting a stiff blast of cold air, making you and Penelope shiver, and Henry into the warm kitchen. He stamped his feet, knocking off the snow and ice encrusted on his boots, then looked at the two of you, his face was haggard, like he never went to bed last night, and judging by the critical look on Penelope's face, he hadn't.

“Ölnir finally got the radio working and got a hold of the Survey center.” Henry said, going to the stove and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “They'll have someone to come pick you and Dr. Elliot up this afternoon.” He informed you, never looking at you as he stood at the stove, sipping at his coffee.

“Oh.” You whispered, meeting Penelope's eyes. “Is Dr. Elliot safe enough to move?” You asked, looking at Henry's back, troubled that the Survey was coming to the Village, after what he had told you.

“Dr. Lehto believes so.” Henry answered, still not turning around to look at you. “Even still, the British Survey will have an emergency helicopter waiting for him, when you arrive at the center, to take him to Longyearbyen, then transport him to Oslo, for all the medical care he'll need.”

You sighed softly, looking down at your empty plate. “Thank you.” You mumbled, finishing off the last of your tea. “Then, I'll go up and make sure I have all of my things.” You said, standing up and heading out of the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway, clearing your throat and squaring your shoulders for a moment. “Just in case I don't get to say it.” You spoke up, keeping your voice strong and clear, half turning back to Henry and Penelope. “Thank you for your kindness and hospitality to Dr. Elliot and me. It's been much appreciated, and it won't be forgotten. I'll make sure, when he comes around, to inform him of your generosity.” You told them, before finally excusing yourself, and going back upstairs, tears spilling from your eyes as you reached the top of the stairs.

“Is this how you leave her?” Penelope asked, around the rim of her teacup.

Henry narrowed his eyes at the stove's back-splash. “You've been nagging at me to get a hold of the Survey to get them out of Trømsvik, and when I finally do, you're upset with me.” He huffed; his jaw tight.

She tapped her slipper-ed foot against the worn tile floor under the table. “I didn't want you to hurt her, either.”

“Hurt her?” Henry retorted, turning towards Penelope. “Not only does she not believe me, but she also doesn't believe in me. Why make someone stay, who doesn't believe?”

Penelope set her cup down and stood, shaking her head. “You never gave her a chance to believe. Like you did the rest of us.” She answered, going out.

“I just can't win.” Henry groaned, rubbing his face and pouring himself another cup of coffee. “I'm just upsetting everyone.” He sighed, defeated. “This is against my purpose.”

Just past noon, a ruckus filled the village, as two large snow machines, bearing the Arctic Survey logo, rolled into the town square, kicking up snow onto the shoveled sidewalks.

“Can we help you?” One of the villagers asked, as the people from inside the machines piled out.

“We're looking for Mr. Cavill, he contacted us about two of our scientists that he found. Dr. Tate Elliot and Dr. Hughes.” One of the men replied, looking around the village.

“Aga, go run to Mr. Cavill's home and tell him he has visitors.” The villager bid the child standing beside them.

Aga took off like a bullet from a gun, weaving through the crowd, as she raced towards Henry's home, slipping and sliding as she went. “Mr. Cavill!” She shouted, knocking vehemently on his front door with both hands.

The door swung open. “What is it, Aga?” Henry frowned down at her.

“Some people in huge things like yours are here!” She shouted, pointing towards the square and jumping up and down on her feet.

Henry leaned out the door, catching a glimpse of one of them and felt his mouth go dry. “Ah, thank you, Aga. Tell them, we'll be right down.” He said, patting her on the head and going back inside, then stood in the entryway for a moment, to collect himself, before going upstairs and knocked on your room door and went in.

“The Survey is here for you.” He said, looking at you, as you sat on the bed.

You looked up from your book, feeling your heart skip a beat. “All right, I'll be right down.” You told him.

Nodding, Henry closed the door without another word to you and went back downstairs, getting dressed and going out to Dr. Lehto's home, informing him and his sister that the British Survey had arrived to retrieve you and Dr. Elliot, before meeting the Survey in the town square and leading them to Dr. Lehto's, so they could move Dr. Elliot.

You closed your book and stared at the cover for a moment, then sighed, setting it on the nightstand and got up to grab your stuff, what little you did have, you were already wearing. Penelope brought you your duffel bag, which Henry had also grabbed when he saved you and Dr. Elliot that day, so you stuffed the robe, slippers and shawl into it, then slung it across your body and headed downstairs.

“That's it, no goodbye?” Penelope asked, as you opened the door.

“I said it this morning.” You replied, turning back around.

“As informal as it was.” Countered the other woman.

Your shoulders slumped and you took a deep breath. “Good bye, Penelope. It was nice meeting you. Thank you for keeping me company and I'll deeply miss your hot cocoa.”

Penelope bit her lip, her eyes sad. “I'll miss you too.” She said, softly.

Nodding your head and standing there a moment longer, you stepped out into the street and closed the door behind you, heading for the town square, where they had already loaded Dr. Elliot into one of the two snow machines and were just waiting for you. It felt like the longest walk of your life, you had only been in the village for a week and a half, you had grown to love it and the people so much. But, as you approached the Survey snow machines and saw Henry standing there with them, your heart clenched and your face hardened, it was time for you to go and get back on track, back to why you were in the Arctic to begin with, and it wasn't to be part of Trømsvik.

“Dr. Hughes, it's good to see you in good health.” One of the men said, stepping forward, extending his hand. “I'm Dr. Jude Baker, the head Scientist over at the British Arctic Survey Center.”

“Oh.” You replied, shaking his hand, surprised he had made the journey. “Thank you, it's a pleasure to meet you. Do you have Dr. Elliot?”

“Yes, he's already secured inside the other machine, all that is left is you.” Dr. Baker assured you, tilting his upper body towards the machine that stood idling behind the one beside the two of you. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes, I am.” You nodded at him, adamantly.

“Then, let me take your bag for you.” He offered, holding his hand out for it.

“Thank you.” You slipped your bag off your shoulder and handed it to him, repressing a groan as you noticed Henry edge closer to you from the corner of your eye.

“Could we have a moment?” Henry asked you, eyes darting to the others around. “Please?” He added, seeing the flash of incoming sarcasm in your eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your back to him and marched a few meters away. “More of your delusion, Mr. Cavill?” You asked, your brow wrinkling with your agitation.

Henry sighed; his already sorrowful cerulean blue eyes grew sadder still. “It's not a delusion, I swear to you. I am telling you the truth. There really is a Sieidis, a sacred rock, that holds the power the world knows as Santa. I found it the year after Sikká, and I came here. I don't know why, or really how, but it chose me, and I've taken on the mantle of Santa.”

You pressed your lips together and pushed out your jaw, looking around the town square. “So, you're Santa Claus, and what? Is this your North Pole and everyone in Trømsvik are your Elves?” You asked, looking back up at Henry, with a mocking tone. “They're rather on the tall side, don't you think?”

“You're not being fair.” Henry growled, his hands tightening into fists.

“Then, put me on the Naughty List.” You retorted, pushing past him and heading towards the snow machine, where Dr. Baker was holding the door open for you. “I can buy my own presents.” You tossed over your shoulder, before climbing into the machine.

Henry watched everyone climb into the machines and maneuver them around the square, just missing the Christmas tree, and roll out of the village the way they came, heading towards Survey Center, eighty kilometers away. He dropped his chin to his chest and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and turning on his heels to head back home.

“Mr. Cavill, sir!” A teeny voice called out behind him, making him pause.

“Yes?” He sighed, turning back to see a little girl standing behind him. “Ah, hello, Fia.” He said, forcing a smile and kneeling down in the snow, to her level. “What can I do for you, little one?” He asked, patting her on the arm.

“I was wondering,” Fia answered, twisting the toe of her boot in the snow. “If I could have a new dolly this Christmas? I've been really good this year, I've even been helping my mama when she asks and doing all my chores.”

A genuine smile crossed Henry's face, listening to her. “Well, if that's true, I don't see why not. But, you have to keep helping your mum and doing your chores till Christmas, deal?” He told her, tipping his head forward and gently touching the tip of his finger to her nose.

Fia nodded her head, vigorously, and launched herself at Henry, locking her arm around his neck. Henry chuckled and hugged her back, gently patting her back, before setting her back down on her feet, she giggled at Henry, then ran off. Chuckling to himself, Henry stood up and brushed the snow off the knees of his pants, looking around the village he had called home for the last thirteen years and felt a calm come over him.

You didn't believe in him, but everyone in Trømsvik did, and that's what Henry needed, even though he felt the small hollow part in his heart that told him otherwise.

#Henry Cavill #Viking-Raider Fics #A Cavill Christmas #A Cavill Christmas *Fic* #HenryCavill #Henry Cavill Fics #Henry Cavill RPF #henry cavill rpf #Henry Cavill / Reader #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill / You #Henry Cavill x You #Cavillmas #Merry Cavillmas #Fluff #Angst #Magic #Language #jealousy #Walter Marshall #Marshall

[themuselesswriter]

Kattegat Dessert and Sweets

Characters: Ragnar Lothbrok, Rollo Lothbrok, Floki, Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar, Aslaug, Lagarths, Torvi

Summary: in a world, where Vikings is a reference to the workers of a sweets cafe, Ragnar Lothbrok, runs a cafe with the aid of his five sons, a documentary about their work and life is being filmed by a show named Behind the glass doors, that shows the struggles of being a worker of a successful place, the stress, the tears, the laughs, the breakdowns, all exclusive. Basically an AU where our beloved Vikings are in a modern setting and instead of invading lands they make cupcakes and cookies.

Word count: 13323

Warnings: alcoholism, ptsd, implied death, drugs

A/N: this is unfinished work which will probably remain unfinished because the writer is museless but you can still enjoy it

Credits: Filter -viking by me, image- pintrest

———————————Teaser————————————

Kattegat, the famous dessert and sweets cafe which everyone is obsessed with nowadays, the hipsters like the authenticity of the place and now, you need to book a table to eat here on the weekends! Kattegat has been in the Lothbrok family for a few years now, Ragnar Lothbrok bought it from Mr. Haraldson, it is now run by Ragnar Lothbrok and his five sons, but life’s never been as magical as it seems.

11:30 a.m.

A fiftyish years old man entered an office in the back of the restaurant with the cameramen following him, filming everything, not leaving any details out, he seemed both, uncomfortable and eager “remind me, how does this work?” He asked as a nametag showed on the left Ragnar Lothbrok, manager, it read “we’ll film every second of your lives for the next week, and use the clips in an exclusive show that’s called behind the glass doors, you’ll have to do interviews and such, it’s like keeping up with the Kardashians, only better and it’s for people who actually earned their fame through hard work” the man behind the camera replied “oh, I’m familiar with that show” Ragnar replied with a smile.

“alrighty then! Let’s start! When did you buy this place?” The voice said again “I bought it when my son, Bjorn was only a child... I believe around ten? I’m bad with dates, I was broke, not the infamous Ragnar, I lived in a studio apartment with Lagartha and my two children, I was just a dish boy at first, cleaning up after people, Haraldson fired me for wanting a promotion” he laughed “I disappeared for a while, worked hard in different jobs, then I heard Haraldson was selling the place, me, Lagartha, Rollo, and Floki… We put our money together and bought it, and now we own branches in Iceland and France!”

“How did you come up with the dessert idea?” The voice asked again “well, funny, it started as a cupcake shop, we had cupcakes to die for, we still make them, Lagartha always liked cupcakes, one day I thought what if we make cookies too? Lagartha didn’t like it, she said we should focus on cupcakes they are our masterpiece, and leave others, for now, I refused… our first try to sell cookies, wasn’t successful and it caused problems, plenty, eventually, Lagartha left the job, then me, Bjorn and Gida with her, then Aslug came and I started a new life, had children… four, and developed the shop, you know, life goes on, but most of those desserts are Bjorn’s ideas, he’s an explorer! He comes up with something new all the time!”

“How’s life as a manager?” , “as the manager, I have to deal with papers more than anything, I’m retiring soon though, all of my children have a role here, Bjorn will take my place as manager, Ubbe will be hall manager, Hvitserk will run the kitchen, Sigurd will handle the social media and Ivar will do the economic stuff, all I did by myself when I was younger but now I can rely on my boys.” Ragnar replied then looked at a family portrait on the wall

“what about Gida?” The man asked “Gida’s more into a simple life, restaurant stress isn’t for her, she’s helping refugees in Saudan instead as a teacher” The next minute was Ragnar going through papers and checking up on their other branches, the France branch was on fire but Iceland needed more work according to their latest statics

02:05 p.m.

Two tall men were whispering to each other in a corner, as the camera went closer the name tags appeared reading Bjorn, the hall manager, and Ubbe, the host. it was midday and more than half of the tables were taken “boys please, keep your mics on you all the time! It’s in the contract!” The producer, Holly Smith begged behind the camera “apologies, we were talking about a private matter” Bjorn said bowing his head “you agreed, no secrets or privacy for the next week, if you gonna discuss dirty matters, the whole world gotta hear it” she replied and the boys laughed

“dirty matters? No! We were discussing what to put for tomorrow’s special!” Bjorn laughed “yeah, our lives is that boring, that when we have a chance we discuss even more food matters” Ubbe added.

“I don’t believe that! But since we’re talking food special... Can we know what it will be?” the voice behind the camera asked “no spoilers! That’s the first rule in show business” Bjorn winked at the camera then looked at the door as it opened, he nudged Ubbe’s arm and sighed “we have a case of thirty-nine” the camera turned and showed four middle-aged women walking in, Ubbe walked to them and greeted them then helped them find a seat.

Continue reading

#Vikings #ragnar lothbrok #rollo lothbrok #floki #bjorn ironside #ubbe lothbrok #hvitserk #sigurd #ivar lothbrok #modern #lagertha #aslug #torvi #gunnhild #thora #freydis #harald finehair #fanfics #fanfiction #gordon ramsay #Museless AO3

[justasparkwritings]

NoFacetober {11}

Previous: Day 10 

Pairing: Wizard Kim Seokjin x Witch Reader

Genre: Witch/Wizard AU, Fluff

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Talk of Sex!

Word Count: 803

NOFACETOBER hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​

  Day 11 : Siren

Master List 

           “Where are you taking me?” You huff, coat pulled tightly around your frame, frown permanently on your lips. It’s been four days since the Haunted House catastrophe, and in those four days you’ve spoken a maximum of five sentences to Seokjin. He’s royally fucked up, and every day you don’t speak to him is another day he doesn’t get to apologize or show you the beauty of Halloween. Is he panicked he’s going to lose the best? Absolutely.

           “We’re going somewhere special for dinner, and then when we come home, we’re going to do something special too.”

           “Seokjin,” You start.

           “Y/N, please, let me make it up to you,” He pleads. “I’ve missed you irrevocably this week, it’s killing me not speaking to you. I know you’re having night terrors; the sleep demons are visiting you again. I fucked up, and I’ve been trying to apologize, but you have to let me.”

           “The notes have been very sweet,” You concede. Seokjin’s been slipping notes into your work bag, your desk, the sleeve of your to-go coffee orders, inside your make up drawer… everywhere he can, he’s been leaving proof of his love. “Maybe tonight you can help me with the sleep demons.”

           His smile is kind, lips parting gently as his cheeks lovingly push the corners of his gaze upwards. “Of course, honey, anything for you.”

           “But really, where are we going?”

           “You know how you’ve always wanted to hear the Sirens?”

           “Yeah?” It was a dream you had years ago, one that came back hauntingly every so often, you and Seokjin, eating dinner on a deserted island restaurant, consuming an herb that turns the petulant and grating voices of the Sirens into a melodic symphony of sound, ensuring you don’t fall madly in love with them and drift into the ocean only to drown.

           “Well, I did some digging. And it exists, on a different plane, but it exists.”

           “Are you saying we’re going?” You can feel your eyes growing wide in wonder, you heart beginning to race as you stand outside your shared home.

           “Yes.”

           “Holy, fuck!”

           Seokjin takes your hand in his. “Do you trust me?”

           “Yes.” You don’t have to think about it.

           “Good, come on,” He pulls you along, walking quickly towards the train station.

From your home, it’s one train stop away from the portals, wherein you can fly through various planes, go to Earth, visit alternate realities and realms, and in your case, hop on over to a realm in which Olympus is real, Poseidon rules the sea, and a trio of gods ensure love and fertility to all the people. You have to make reservations in advance to go to different planes, particularly ones that involve other forms of magic. In school you’re taught and tested on the various laws you must abide by when traveling, and when you show up for a booking, present documentation that you’re current on said exams. Jin’s taken care of it all, his preparedness completely turning you on.

           Time stops when you realm-jump, but if you’re honest, whenever Seokjin looks at you with his wide chocolate eyes and plump cherry lips, it does already.  

           “I love you,” He whispers, lips ghosting over your ear before finding purchase on your cheek.

           “I know,” You answer. “I love you too.”

           The restaurant, Shipwreck’s Folly, is decadent and gorgeous. Pieces of ships, long forgotten, decorate the walls. The bow of an old Viking ship serves as the hostesses stand, masts and torn sails separate the bar from the restaurant, what appears to be captain’s quarters have been reconfigured into restrooms. The kitchen, an old galley, can be seen from various vantage points within the dining hall. They’ve fashioned a ginormous glass window to curve into the ceiling, presenting guests with a sweeping view of the sea before them. The dark navy and weathered leather absorb the low light of the seashell chandeliers, making for a stormy atmosphere unbewitched and unbothered.

           “This place is gorgeous,” You whisper to Seokjin.

           “I know, I didn’t know it would look like this, I mean I saw pictures,” He mutters. The hostess guides you to your table, a corner spot with an undisturbed view of the sea.

           “Your herbs, take them now with water and they will begin to work,” She leaves two capsules stuffed with organic matter, and your water glasses fill of their own volition.

           Seokjin hands you yours to examine it further. It smells like grass, or fertilizer, and the little strands of whatever they’ve pulled from the earth are easy to see. They must not grind them or combine the strains in any manner, simply cut and place in clear capsules.

           Taking your water glass in your free hand, you look up at Seokjin. He’s already staring at you, waiting patiently.

           “You ready?”

Next: Day 12

#bangtanbathhouse #nofacetober #thebtswritersclub #clubzerooclock #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #Kim Seokjin #Kim Seokjin x reader #Kim Seokjin x you #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #OT7fic #OT7 series #justasparkwritings #halloween #I hate halloween

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Maybe We Meet Again

My Masterlist

In Another Life (prequel to this)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: The first part (of two) of the sequel of In Another Life, set in a Modern!AU.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mentions of death, descriptions of violence and death, major character death (past), nothing else I can think of.

A/N: Hi, idk what you guys were expecting when it came to the follow up for In Another Life, but I hope you like this. Thank you so much for your support in that work and all the others, none of this would be possible without you guys keeping me sane motivated. Love ya.

Taglist: @1950schick @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​

Ivar’s gaze is focused on his phone, awaiting his brother’s answer to finally know how much longer will it be before he gets to the café, but something makes him lift his gaze, looking out the window.

He sees you looking positively overwhelmed on a street corner, eyes squinting at a sign, trying to read the name of the street.

Ivar doesn’t know what it is that makes him adjust the crutch in his left arm and stand up to approach you. He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t deny the pull, the whisper that if he doesn’t at least learn your name he will regret it.

“Do you need help?” He asks as pleasantly as he is able to, and based by the grateful smile you offer, even if twinged with embarrassment, he isn’t quite the mannerless grump his brothers make him out to be.

“Is it that obvious?” You huff a laugh at yourself, and continue, “I’m trying to find…”

Your eyes lower to your phone, and with an adorable frown in your nose, you give up on whatever it is you must say, and just show him the screen. The name of the university is familiar, but you are very much lost, it seems, for it is almost on the other side of town.

He tells you that, and tries not smiling at the expression on your face. Gods, you are cute.

“You are not from here.” He states, and you shake your head.

“Here on a scholarship, I’m going to be an assistant investigator in…” Your words die again, as you seemingly try to remember the name of the place you are supposed to be at. But you shake yourself out of that soon enough, and offer a smile, “I’m Y/N.”

The name makes something in him react, awaken. For a moment he tries to remember why, to understand, but it feels like trying to run in a dream, in feels strange and hopeless and out of his reach.

Before you can think him too strange, he tells you his name, and desperately tries thinking of something to say in the awkward silence that follows.

He finds himself asking if you have time for a coffee, motioning absently to the shop behind him, and by some turn of his luck, you say yes.

Ivar finds out soon enough that it is incredibly easy to get you to talk. It works for him, he doesn’t always know what to say, and he knows to most people he seems cold.

But you, you are warm and alive and expressive, and soon enough you are moving your hands excitedly, speaking of finally being granted the opportunity to assist in a dig on a ship burial site. Ivar frowns, and interrupts you with a mumble of your name, still not over the strange thrill that goes over him when sounds out the syllables.

“There’s no sea nearby, how w-…”

“A ship burial doesn’t mean one at sea,” You interrupt softly, eyes shining. After a breath, where it seems your smile trembles on your lips, you add, “Things are not as literal as you think they are, Ivar.”

He tries returning the smile, but his lips part and his breath stutters out.

Why does it feel like he’s forgetting something?

He shakes himself out of it, and leans forward on the table, resting his elbows on it and looking into your eyes.

“So, why all this? Why chase a love story all the way to Bække?”

You shrug your shoulders, a smile that Ivar tries not finding devastatingly adorable playing on your lips, “I don’t like secrets.”

“I don’t think they are keeping it particularly from you.”

“Still. I…it’s a story no one else knows, something that can change how we see the world.” Your eyes are shining in a sort of wonder, of excitement, he has never seen before.

Still, because he cannot help it, he reminds you, “How we see one man.”

“A man that changed the world,” You argue without hesitation, gesturing with your hands as you continue, “Strip away the atrocity, the cruelty, the…otherworldliness of those who are remembered as monsters, and the tale we tell changes, the world changes.

You place your hand over the worn book he saw you carrying, that when he asked you told it was your favorite copy of historical and archaeological records detailing the last years of the Golden Age for Vikings, your eyes fiery as they meet his,

“All we have to remember him by is the legend, the war stories, the chaos he sowed and the death that followed. Even his grave is one of magic, of superstition.”

“But not this one you are working on.”

“Not this one. If I can prove that she was his wife…” A breathed laugh leaves your lips, and Ivar clings to the sound. You bite your lip before insisting, “I just need her name to be the right one.”

“The right one?”

You shrug your shoulders, moving both hands so they are wrapped around your cup of coffee, though your fingers are anxiously tapping at the plastic covering. “His last breath was a whisper of a name. It may not mean anything, but it’s the one lead I have. He may have been a monster, but…he died with a name on his lips.”

“The name of his wife.”

You correct with a shake of your head, “Presumed wife, Rus records only speak of a shieldmaiden that was found dead in his room, before he tore the Rus apart from the inside. Sentimentality makes you think he was avenging her. Logic, on the other hand…”

When your words die with a gesture of your hand, Ivar finishes for you,

“Makes you realize he killed her.”

You nod, a twitch of sadness, a shine of grief in your eyes, before you shake your head at yourself with a sigh.

“The night the world ended.” You quote with a smile that trembles on your lips.

____

If someone were to ask him how life turned out this way, how he got to be here with you and have you love him and let him love you back, Ivar wouldn’t know how to answer.

He’s told you before that maybe it is Fate, that maybe, just maybe, you two were meant to be. Each time he speaks of it, you smile softly, usually shaking your head or kissing him to shut him up, but he sees the tremble in your smile, the curiosity in your gaze, the wondering.

Regardless of how he got here, he for once refuses to overthink this, refuses to let himself be twisted into knots by his own thoughts.

So, because he finds himself missing you -because he wants to, because he can, because he asked you to move in and you said yes- Ivar goes in search of you.

He finds you on the couch, your eyes closed and breathing deep even if your laptop is still open on the coffee table, expecting you to continue work you probably fell asleep doing.

More than a year you’ve dedicated to this dig of yours, this investigation. More than a year, you’ve A part of him torments him with thoughts that you may look elsewhere -both when it comes to a home and when it comes to him- when it is done, but he tries not dwelling much on it.

He whispers an endearment as he presses a kiss right under your ear, a gesture and softness a year ago he never would have believed himself capable of.

“C’mon, wake up, Princess. I can’t exactly carry you to bed.”

“There’s a…bed right here,” You make a vague gesture to the tiny space you leave for him to apparently sleep in, “And there’s a me, and a you.”

Ivar tries replying with a whisper of your name, but Gods, you have him wrapped around your pinky, and your smile stops whatever he was going to insist with.

With a sigh, he sits on the small space you leave, and discards the crutch on the floor at his side. Trying to move you so he can lay down and have you rest on his chest, he once again meets resistance.

“No, no, no,” You mutter sleepily, and stiffen so he can’t maneuver you. “I’m comfy. You leave me be, Lothbrok.”

Our arms lift weakly, inviting him to lay partially over you with his head on your chest. It is inviting, especially with the promise of your fingers running through his hair.

So, he desists and settles in place, pressing a kiss to the center over your heart and laying his head on your chest, his arms going underneath you and wrapped tightly around you.

Ivar closes his eyes, and he can hear it beating under his ear, can hear its rhythm as if he could know it by memory.

He turns his head, and presses another kiss to the skin over your heart.

What he wouldn’t do for that heartbeat.

____

You wake him in the early morning whispering excitedly about the chance to finally go to the site, and insisting that he has to come with you.

“It’s her.” You whisper, and your smile is fucking blinding. When he apparently dwells too long on the warmth of that smile, you insist with an excited pitter-patter of your feet that he gets up.

He does, and gets in the car with you, around curses about the cold that you giggle at, an annoyed furrow in his brow you kiss away, and grumbles about how far away it is that you soothe away with soft kisses.

You get ahead of him when you walk towards the stones embedded on the ground you said are in the shape of a ship, and Ivar limps behind you as you approach the biggest of the stones.

Your hair flows everywhere in the wind, and your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself to ward off the cold.

“The one thing that made him human is here,” You say, and he watches as your left hand raises as if to press your palm against the old stone, before you stop yourself. “The one proof that he wasn’t a…a monster. Just a man.

You chuckle, but it is bitter, sorrowful, pained; and your gaze lowers to the ground.

“Or…he was, until he killed her.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, to that look in your eyes, to that pressure he feels deep in his chest. So, Ivar grabs on tighter to his crutch and moves closer to the pillar.

“‘She will return victorious’.” Ivar reads slowly, feeling a pit of dread at the base of his stomach, like he’s at the edge of a cliff and about to fall, like he knows what it feels to have the world end, like…like he-…

Those that followed him, those that chose their Viking roots over Oleg’s Christian ways, stay quite a distance away, they know better than to approach.

Ivar doesn’t know how much time he has spent sitting on this cold grass engraving with shaking hands the words he tries remembering how to spell.

He knows he’s lost a lot of blood, can feel it, sticky and colder by the minute, pooling underneath him. The one blow that managed to land on him, he wishes he could remember who it was, how it happened.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened between your lips breathing a last kiss over his and the light dying in Oleg’s eyes as his body surrendered to the torture.

Even his hand is bleeding, Ivar notices. He remembers faintly of holding on to a small statue when he was told his father died, he remembers the feel of it breaking the skin.

He could die here, he knows.

If he doesn’t let them approach him, if he doesn’t let them stop the bleeding, he will die here, tired and worn and alone, under a pool of his own blood before a monument of his worst mistakes.

He can close his eyes and he can still feel the fathom touch of your hand on his cheek, can still taste the warmth of your smile pressed against his own lips, can still see your gaze filled with love and the promise of forever.

He can still hear your voice, soft and gentle, the whispered hope that maybe Valhalla is another chance to meet again, that maybe in another life there’s hope for…hope.

He finishes the last of the letters, and he sways forward, brow resting against cold stone.

It would be easy, he gathers, to close his eyes and give in to the lull of the memory of your voice, your touch.

But he refuses to.

Because he can also feel your hand giving one last caress before you sentence you both to die, can still taste the tears in your lips as you promise only death will stop you against his own, can still see your dead eyes staring back up at him, his knife deep in your heart.

And so Ivar drops the blooded iron tool before the words he will pray to his very last breath are true: She will return victorious.

He vowed once he would make the world remember him, but the world ended the night he put a knife through your heart. The world -his world- ended, and he finds with cruel clarity that he wants them all to know what it feels.

He will still be the most famous Viking who has ever lived. He will make them all suffer and pay and die. And they will remember the pain and death and chaos. And he will be a legend, if only one they will whisper in fear for the rest of time, if only the legend of a monster in a man’s skin.

Ivar crawls away from the boat made of stone, certain many will try to stop him, even more will try to kill him. Certain they will fail.

They can’t kill him, don’t they know who he is?

“Are you okay?” Your hand on his back, touch making him realize how quickly his breaths are coming out of him. Bu the can’t-…he can’t get his breathing back under control, he can’t…

He moves back, away from the stone -the monument, the grave- and his hand doesn’t grip correctly at the crutch on his side. Almost all his life with these things, he’s never failed to use them, they work as an extension of him by now.

And he realizes with dawning horror he wasn’t reaching for the forearm crutch he’s used to, he was expecting to find a rougher one, wooden and metal and…Gods, he can feel the pain of those iron braces, he can feel the pressure of the bones that try to break under unfitting contraptions.

He cannot keep the scream from leaving his lips when they set the bone back into place, the pressure building from the inside of his leg and the pain threatening to pull him under.

He feels faintly of your hand on his face, trying to help him feel anything other than pain; hears choppily of your voice by his ear, trying to drown out the beat of his own heart.

He can’t tell how much time passes, all he knows is that your touch and your voice prove to be the only thing keeping him conscious.

“I hate those things.” You mutter sometime in the night, and he opens bleary eyes to watch you gritting your teeth at the iron braces that lie somewhere on his left.

“Necessary.” The word leaves him in a gasp, and is all he can say. Still, the Gods would sooner sew his mouth shut for him to refuse arguing.

You have the look of wanting to argue, he knows it, he knows that fire like he knows himself; but you say nothing.

The fire is a different one, but still scalds, when you press your hand over his chest.

He hears you say his name, or…or he thinks he does, and when he looks at you, your eyes are the same. And…how didn’t he know?

His lips form the shape of your name, but he only rasps out grief, horror, regret, his regret.

Your expression falls, your eyes fill with tears. He knows that look, that shine of devastation in your eyes.

You look at him and he sees it written in your eyes, the plea that he doesn’t ask you to make this choice.

But he cannot go on while the threat of them taking you away from him looms over him. Either he loses you for good now, or they do.

A part of him dreads your answer, and another is already certain what your choice will be.

“I’ll stay,” You sentence, and it feels like breathing for the first time in a century, when he fills grateful lungs with air. “Out of love for you, not for the world you want to build.”

But he cannot keep the coldness of his voice, he cannot keep the venom from his lips. Because even if your choice was to stay, he wants to punish you for even thinking about leaving him behind.

“A world where you happen to be one of the most powerful women. Convenient, isn’t it?”

But even as ice cuts and bruises and breaks the skin, your smile is warm.

“I choose this world not for power, but because I cannot fathom a world without you in it.”

“You remember.” Is all you whisper. And he recognizes that expression in your face too, all he knew was the feeling behind it once. You have the look of someone whose world just ended.

____

Sooooo, what do you think? I’m sorry there isn’t much fluff, I’m not good at it. And I’m sorry it ends in a cliffhanger, that isn’t nice, but the last part (which takes place from the Reader’s perspective) will hopefully come soon.

Thank you so much for reading, I would love to know your thoughts on this one!! Love you!!

Maybe Death Gives Up On Us (sequel to this)

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar