Four warriors brave the castle of Dr. Jamison Junkenstein in order to end his experiments once and for all.
Four warriors sat around a slowly dying fire, one man more alert than the others. No one slept, but watched each other’s backs. Closing your eyes meant reliving the horrors in the dream world, waking up to those same horrors staring you in the face. The forest was still, silent, but the darkness was the scariest part, and could hold anything. No one wanted to risk leaving the dim light the fire provided.
Their next destination beyond the forest would be their last. Winning came at a cost; too many lives had been lost at this point. Losing meant that they’d also succumb to being changed…
The Gunslinger sighed, checking his pockets once again and grimacing. He had to be careful with his bullets. He had five rounds left, not counting the one already loaded, but he couldn’t risk using all of them before they got to the castle. All his shots had to hit their mark, else he’d die.
Next to him, the Archer sorted through his bows, wiping down the blood and muck from the tips. He barely had time to gather all of them, most left in the bodies he had slain. There was no time to run back and get them, so he also had to make do with what he had. Thirty arrows left. He’d also have to be precise.
The Soldier had his gun trained on a target no one could see. His visor scanned the forest slowly, looking out for threats. Having lost the most during this expedition, he wasn’t taking any chances. The three with him were all he had left. He’d rather lose his life than lose the last of human contact he’d ever have. If that mad doctor wanted them, he’d have to get through the soldier first.
The Monk sat quietly, in a trancelike state. The only calm one, there was little he could do to ease his companions minds. He technically wasn’t alive; anything the doctor did to him wouldn’t force him to lose his humanity. He could be turned into a zombic, but he’d always keep a part of him. But he if lost the others, he’d truly be alone.
So far, they’d already lost their alchemist, their viking, their sniper, and the Archer’s brother. What had once been a might party had been reduced to these four. It was easy to trust someone when they stopped the undead from ripping out your throat or clawing out your back, and the group had been close. They were the only things left of humanity this far out.
“…I thought the doctor was dead,” the Gunslinger muttered. “We got reports that he was dead.”
“His monster might’ve been inhumane, but it was smart. It could’ve learned how to revive him,” the Archer pointed out.
“Or it was faked,” the Soldier said. “What if he faked the whole thing to kidnap more victims and turn them into monsters? We know his army has grown, too large for what he started. Perhaps he was never dead, only made it seem that way so that he could expand.”
It was grim, but closest to the truth.
A rustling from the trees had them all in action. The Soldier cocked his gun, the Gunslinger took aim, the Archer lifted his bow, and the Monk raised his hands for attack. They couldn’t lose one another. Not when they were so close to putting down the doctor.
It wasn’t hard to find Hvitserk. His natural ability to attract attention and to warm people up towards himself meant that if you ever needed Hvitserk, all you had to do was follow the noise. Wherever villagers gathered for festivities and whenever there was mead involved, there will be Hvitserk in the midst of it all enjoying himself. Probably telling a tall tale about something he never really did but it wouldn’t matter, everyone would be hanging on to his words like they were to be his last.
You stalked through the streets of Kattegat with the moonlight as your only companion. The streets have emptied out a while ago now, with little sign of familiar life. A stray dog barked somewhere close from the depths of a passing house. Startled, you nearly slipped up on a layer of mud left behind by yesterday’s rain.
It wasn’t long before the Great Hall came into view. With its carved doors and decorative flags frantically snapping sideways from the wind, it looked more like a relic than a house. People were pouring in and out of the hall, stumbling over each other and blindly grabbing at each other for support. What a familiar sight, you smiled empty heartedly.
There seemed to always be a celebration at the great hall these days. Vikings celebrating raids, coming of age events, weddings..with successful raids came hope for a better life and what better way to show hope than to celebrate it. Not that you saw much of that, Ivar very rarely let you attend festivities under guise of his legs painting him and him needing your care. In truth, you suspected the real reason was Hvitserk all along.
With some effort, you pushed open the great carved doors. The heavy wood gave way with a loud screech, which was quickly lost in the music. A tall burly man rushed past you out the door with one of the slaves across his shoulder. He grunted at you with hurried acknowledgment, making you momentarily wonder if you knew him. Otherwise, hardly anyone took notice of your entrance. This was fortunate, you thought and wrapped your fur cloak tighter around yourself to cover your neck, you didn’t want to have to face anyone you knew.
Your eyes danced across the hundreds of people who filled the hall. It took a while to see through the crowds, there was too much movement for focus and it was purely by chance that you noticed Hvitserk. He, as per the norm, was all be swallowed in large a group of vikings you didn’t recognise at a table not too far from you. With his right arm he wielded a small, delicate knife. With a sudden jerk of the hand he pretended to slash at the air with the weapon. The gathered crowd erupted in laughter and a smug look crossed Hvitserk’s features, obviously pleased to receive such praise in return for the story.
Suddenly you felt ridiculous, with your pitiful and uninspired problems. Who were you to bother a prince with your worries. He was already a legend and you, a daughter from a family of farmers who preferred a plough over a blade. You had no right to be here, to seek him out.
You took a slow step back and collided with one of the slaves. She dropped the jug she was carrying, just as surprised as you.
Her petite frame responded immediately, dropping to her knees she snatched the jug from underneath your feet. You leaned down to check if she was unharmed but the slave recoiled and retreated into the crowd. You didn’t even get time to apologise to her. Perhaps you could seek her out later…
When you finally looked up from your thoughts, your breath got caught in your throat. Hvitserk was looking straight at you. He must have noticed the commotion and now it was far too late to retreat. You met his eyes, trying to portray confidence but you knew you were radiating anything but that. Hvitserk questioningly tilted his head to the side.
Why did he have to be so beautiful.
You dismissively waved your hand at him. This was the wrong time for your unhappiness and Hvitserk deserved better. A forced smile graced your lips.
Fake the happiness you chanted to yourself.
This was such a bad idea.
Hvitserk rose from his seat, the slight crinkle in his brow to show how alarming he found the situation. Alarming and perplexing. He beckoned you to follow him and for a moment you thought to protest but when the crinkle in his brow became more emphasised and turned into a frown, you thought better than to argue.
“Would you like a drink” Hvitserk offered a large goblet filled to the brim with mead. You tentatively accepted his offering, mildly aware of your fingers brushing against his as you took the goblet into your hand.
Hvitserk was never one for confrontations, the prospect of an argument intimidated him. It was easier to agree to a situation and to lean into the flow of conversation than to paddle against it. Hell, more often than not, it was easier to slice through screaming hordes on the battlefield than to deal with emotions. With that in mind, he decided against asking you straight up as to what is wrong.
Gods forbid you start crying. Only Ubbe knew what to do with crying women.
“Your braid come undone” He pointed out “come here”. With a lazy wave of the hand he invited you to sit at his feet as he positioned himself on a pile of furs stacked neatly in the far corner of the room.
You nodded and took a slow sip from the goblet. The sweet liquid was pleasant and almost instantaneously you felt muscle tension give way to the calm embrace of alcohol.
Such a light weight.
Placing the goblet on top of a nearing barrel, you realised you’ve never been to this part of the hall before. It was tucked away, more humble than the rest of the building. You brushed your hand against a branch of dried lavender hanging low. Throwing a quick glance over the baskets of fruit and the rugs, you wondered if this was the storage.
“Don’t make me come and get you Y/N” Hvitserk smiled but you both knew it wasn’t a joke.
“You’re always so impatient”
“Only because you’re so slow” Hvitserk’s eyes fell on the swollen cheek of your face as you nestled in before him. Instinctively, he knew the source of injury but chose to set aside all questions. When you’re ready, you’ll tell him everything he needs to know. He never pressured you into anything your entire life and he’ll be damned if he started now. “if you were any slower, you’d start moving backwards”
You play smacked him on the knee in protest earning a chuckle from the man. Gingerly, he raked his hands through you hair untangling the unkempt braid. Your hair spilled over his hands I’m soft curls, like waves of a restless ocean.
“You have such beautiful hair…” He mumbled and pulled the strands apart in preparation of the braid. The gentleness of his voice and hands were distracting, you began forgetting why you came.
“Hvitserk, don’t say things like that…” Your voice trailed off as he gently pulled on a loose curl. You were only mildly aware that festivities were still ongoing in the hall so close to this room. You were lost in the moment, with Hvitserk and his tender touches.
“Why not?” He mused, a small smile playing on his lips. Nothing brought him more pleasure than teasing you.
“Because you don’t mean it”
“Don’t be stupid. Everything about you is beautiful” his words sent a furious rush of blood to your face.
“This is exactly why there are rumours about us” You picked up a piece of straw within your reach and drew a long invisible line on the floor “You talk too kindly and too much”.
Hvitserk stopped braiding for a second. If only you knew how much he wanted to shower you in compliments, the only thing stopping him being Ivar. How would you have known that sometimes being too close to you forced him to flee from your company, the pain of being unable to touch you in the way that he wanted too great a burden to carry. If you knew of his impure thoughts, what would you think? “What does it matter what they say?” He said after some thought.
“It matters to Ivar”
“What about you? Does it matter to you” you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words came. Truth be told, you liked the rumours. You liked the idea of being with Hvitserk even if it was just that - an idea. A feeling of guilt washed over you, settling heavy in the pit of your stomach. What of Ivar? There was no denying you cared for him, but given the chance to be with his brother… You didn’t know what you would do. Both men were important to you, perhaps you even loved them both…
“Look, Y/N…” Hvitserk tied the braid with a small piece of blue decorative ribbon that previously held your hair together. “I don’t assume to know what’s happening between you and my brother. Gods, I wouldn’t know where to begin”. He leaned away from you, releasing the braid and flopping back into the pile of furs “…but please look after yourself. I know how Ivar can be and I know you”
You pushed yourself off the floor to sit next to him. Drawing one knee in, you leaned on it for support and wrapped your hands around yourself. You forced yourself to not take notice of the warmth of his body so close to yours.
“I care about you Y/N.. More than I could ever show you. It’s not right that I do..I know that much!” He threw his hands in the air dramatically in frustration and went quiet.
“I’m sorry…I truly am” you mumbled so quietly Hvitserk almost didn’t hear you.
“Don’t be” He pushed himself back up on his elbows to get a better look at you. “You are the best thing that happened to me. You have no idea how lost I was before you came”
“You can’t mean that, you just can’t” you looked away “I’m with Ivar” you added as an after thought. “whatever we had, no matter how fleeting it was…it’s over”
“Not for me it’s not, Y/N” Hvitserk sat up and thoughtfully gazed at you. Many thoughts ran through his mind then, he has never been quite this nervous about anything before. All he knew, is that if he missed this moment now, missed the chance to be with you, he’ll regret it for as long as he lived. Ivar be damned.
Before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours, and if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction he would have melted into you there and then. But he pulled away, searching your eyes for hesitation and finding none.
“Marry me” He suddenly blurted out.
Now or never.
And though it seemed spontaneous to you then, you couldn’t have known that Hvitserk has been mulling over this for many months. Fully aware that Ivar was your man of choice, he lived in hope and ambition, dreaming to one day steal you away. This chance was as good as any.
You opened your mouth to speak, thoughts furiously flashing through your mind, only to be interrupted by the sudden swing of the doors. The light from activities outside blinded the both of you and you almost missed the familiar silhouette in the doorway.
“My two favourite people” the silhouette mumbled and dragged itself across the floor towards you.
Hoorah! Part two. Really enjoying just the small scale drama of it all.
Let’s say the vikings were quite found of the girls,
they liked them a lot and got really invested on why Emma was so sad.
Post 6x15, maybe post 6x16 as well since Blackbeard is here, Killian coming back and he has a little chat with those vikings.
Coming back in Storybrooke was quite the adventure for Killian.
After Enchanted Forest, Agrabah and Neverland he was back in the town (with
Blackbeard too, sadly) and he couldn’t wait to get back to his love.
“Where are we going now, Hook?” the pirate asked him.
“I’m going home, I don’t care where you are going.”
“So should I just walk around the town?”
“I don’t bloody care mate” Killian said turning to him “as long
as you don’t cause any troubles.”
“Oh yes, because I am sure you will come after me.”
“Be sure of that.”
“Oh you should come with your love too. I can’t wait to meet the
lass who turned you into this… hero” Blackbeard said mockingly.
Killian wanted to answer him when they were approached by three,
really big, men. He saw them in the town before, he knew they come from the
Land of Untold Stories and Henry told him that they were vikings, but he never
heard about any trouble caused by them.
“Are you two pirates?” one of them asked.
“Well I am, this one was. Now he likes to play with the heroes”
“Who made sad the sweet blonde lady?” the same viking asked.
“Oh I believe he is the one you are looking for” Blackbeard said
before Killian could answer.
“Can you shut up?” Killian told him and then turned to look at
the vikings who now had axes in their hands.
“You made sad the cute lass, you will pay for that.”
“Easy mate. What the hell are you talking about?”
“The blonde girl was sad and crying. She was sad because of you,
now you will pay!”
“Wait wait wait. Are you talking about Emma? Emma cried? Because
“Aren’t you the pirate she loves, that left her?”
“I am, but I did not leave her.”
“She was sad!”
“Look, this is none of your business.”
“Listen here pirate. Next time the lady is sad we are coming
after you and be careful, our axes are enchanted, they can cut anything and
I Am One Of You-Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader Part 1
(A/N: I decided to make another series for Vikings, really not sure how long this one will be 😄 This won’t follow the plot of the series.)
Summary: Whilst the sons of Ragnar are raiding England, they find three of their people trapped, who they thought were dead.
Characters: Bjorn Lothbrok x Reader, Floki x Reader, Harald Finehair x Reader (eventually Hvitserk Ragnarrson x Reader)
Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name
My hands gripped at the bars of the window, pulling myself up to peek out. I could hear faint noises of fighting. I slipped down, weak from not receiving food for so long. It was dark in my cell, the only source of light came from the torches outside as I had no window. Trying my best to uphold my body weight, I pulled on the bars again, this time seeing men barging through the corridor.
“HELP!” I screamed.“Please get me out of here!”
One of them stopped at my door, looking straight into my eyes. He was older than me, his eyes were a beautiful blue and he had a long beard with a single braid on his head whilst the rest was bald. For some reason he seemed familiar to me. From the looks of his clothing I could tell he was Viking, he was just like me.
“How do you speak our language?” he demanded to know.
“I come from where you are from. I lived in a trading village called Kattegat. Please believe me, I need to get out of here!”
As soon as I finished my sentence, he was using his axe to break down the door. I stood back, shielding myself from any bits that came flying off. With a final kick, it broke off the hinges, a squeal escaping my lips. He gestured for me to follow and somehow found the energy to run after him.
“Wait! I need to free my friends, they’re down here too!” I exclaimed.
He stopped.“How many of them are there?”
“Only two, and I know where they are.”
He was hesitant with his decision. In the end he did as I asked, instructing me to locate them. We ran further the dungeons, the distant sounds of fighting becoming more faint. I could still hear the warning bells though.
“Askel, Davyn, are you there?” I called into the cells.
“(Y/N)! What’s happening?” Askel asked, looking out of his cell.
“No time to explain. Move.” my rescuer pushed me out of the way before knocking down the doors again.
As they were both freed, we all embraced. It was only brief as we had to escape. The boys could see that the rescuer was a viking too, they knew that they had come to pillage this place. We were all ecstatic at this thought. We too were viking, It was lucky that they were out own people.
It was daytime outside when we escaped the dungeons. The three of us shielded our eyes, only used to the darkness below. As we adjusted, I could hear a victorious scream from a crowd of people. Daring to open my eyes, I could feel the man pulling on my arm towards the crowd of vikings. There were dead bodies strewn across the place, blood staining the ground. There was no remorse in me though, these people were awful, so full of themselves and their one God.
“Bjorn! Who are these people? Slaves? I thought we weren’t taking anyone back with us?” a man with long, brown hair and tattoos all over his face asked.
The man, who I now knew as Bjorn replied.“No, they say they are from Kattegat.”
“And you believed them?”
“They were prisoners.”
“Does not mean they are telling the truth.”
Askel interrupted the conversation, never afraid to speak his mind.“We were raised there as children. After all of our mothers died, my uncle took us in. His name is Floki, I know not if he is still alive.”
The dark haired man laughed.“Floki? Are you serious?”
We nodded, not knowing what was so funny. After he finished laughing, he gestured for us to follow him. The crowd parted to let us through, wondering why they had kept us alive. As we stepped out of the town gates into the woods, there were more men and women. Further along there was a chariot with a man in it, align with four men standing around it, one of them looking older than the others.
“Floki!” the brown haired man called out.
No, it couldn’t be. He was here?! He was here and we would finally be reunited. As he turned around I could not believe my eyes, frozen in place due to shock. Floki looked older though still the same. His crazy eyes and painted markings made him recognisable.
“Children.” he muttered, mostly to himself before bursting into laughter.
“I take it you recognise them?” Bjorn said.
“Of course I do!” he ran to us, pulling us into his arms, squeezing us tightly.“Askel, Davyn, (Y/N), you’re all so big now!”
Askel and Davyn were smiling whereas I was crying. I was happy but so upset about everything we had been through. As the boys pulled away, I clung onto Floki, not wanting to let go in case I was imagining everything. He calmed down, rubbing my back in a comforting way.
“They hurt you didn’t they?” he whispered to me and all I could do was nod.
“They are coming with us, they are my family.” Floki announced.
The three of us stayed close together as we followed the group of vikings to their campsite. Floki was further ahead with the leaders which seemed to be Bjorn and the four younger men from before. I wouldn’t let go of Askel and Davyn’s hands, gripping onto them tightly. This seemed so surreal. After all these years, we were finally rescued, but why now?
Reaching the campsite, Floki found us, bringing us to where his tent was set up. He had many people say around him which made me nervous, I didn’t have much interaction which anyone for a while now. He told us to sitm, someone handing us bowls of food, something we didn’t have for weeks.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” the young man who was sat in the chariot asked.
“Sorry, we’re just wary of our food.” Davyn explained.
“What he means to say is that when we were actually fed, they gave us shit.” Askel said, tucking in.
I copied, my body relishing over the soup. It was so good, though I’m sure a mouldy piece of bread would taste great at this moment. Our good was gone within minutes, hungry for more. We were granted seconds, seeing as we hadn’t eaten for so long. The others talked amongst themselves as we feasted.
Floki sighed.“What happened to you? After they took you?”
“They used us as slaves when we were children, trying to convert us to their religion. Of course we wouldn’t which resulted in a lot of punishments.” I explained.
The boys looked at me worryingly, knowing that those men back there were not holy.
I continued.“We would do as we were told at first. It was only last year we were imprisoned. We had tried to escape, once we were caught they decided they were going to kill us. But one lady was able to save us.”
“She was the wife of the Sheriff, for some reason she felt for us and convinced her husband to keep us alive, make us repent for our sins.” Askel finished.
“We would send messages to each other, that’s how I knew where their cells were and that they were still alive.”
“Well you’ve certainly been through a lot."The young man stated, though he was smirking.
"Ivar.” Floki warned him.
“I know you’re going to say something which you will come to regret when you find my fist in your face.”
Ivar held up his hands mockingly, going back to his food. It was silent until Floki spoke again.
“You all used to play together.” He waved his hand to all of us.“Ubbe, you would play with the boys, Hvitserk was always with (Y/N), he never left her side. Sigurd and Ivar would have been too young to remember, though they joined in too.”
We awkwardly looked at each other, not really knowing what to say. I had just escaped from my prison and this was what we’re talking about. Floki was probably trying to make us forget our prison, think more about home.
“Eat up, you’ll need your strength for our journey tomorrow.”
PART I of the birthday series for @sereniti9 Summary: You are an animal healer, more, they say you are a horse whisperer. Your work with the animals is your life but all that changes on the day a small group of vikings enters your village, demanding you to come with them to their leader. You refuse and that is something you regret from the moment he interups your night. He not only forces you to heal his horse, he also demands your horse in his service. Words: 3107 Warnings: None … yet
A simple farmer life
could get as complex as you wanted it. Yours wasn’t that complex in the
beginning, starting with a bird you healed from its broken wing it went to a
goat with a wound to a horse with a serious leg injury. In that short amount of
time your life became so much more fulfilling than it already was. You were just to
settle with just milking the goats or trading the harvest of that year, you
were just on the bad cold in the winter and the strong heat in the summer for
there was no day that you spend inside. That was then, the farmer’s life your
parents raised you in. A live in which you were unnoticed for everybody outside
the little farmer village you lived in. It was a good life, until you tasted
something else, harbored your deep love for the animals and spread the word
about your talent. Some said you could talk to the animals, others said you
were God’s righteous hand. You only saw yourself as a healer, not for the human
kind but that for the animals. With hardly anybody around with that same kind of
experience you were well known to be an animal healer, even more, a horse
whisperer. And this is a story about you and how fast things could turn for the
worse, because everyone has a weakness, how strong you may look. And his
weakness … was the horse that pulled his chariot, for without he couldn’t move that much at all.
‘Y/n, you need to
help get the hay inside before it starts to rain!’ Your father yelled. He may
be a little old and rusty, but yelling was still one of his favorite things to
do. Just like dreaming was often yours, like now. There wasn’t a view you loved
more than watching a horse move around you, certainly when it was Gyllir doing
it. He was amazing, seeing how he putted his hooves in the grass while he
cantered his gray muscular body around you, throwing his head up so his gray
white manes had to follow. Sometimes you asked of he was just showing off for
you. When he stood still he turned,
looking at you with those pearl black eyes right in the eyes. You softly smiled,
he snored as a reply stepping a little closer before stretching his neck,
placing his nose against your shoulder. You turned your head and placed a kiss
against his sensitive dark nose. He was your fame, the reason people started to
talk about you. He was hardly something, lying on the side of the road waiting
for somebody to kill him off when you found him. He had a pretty damaged leg,
wip marks and wounds over his body. He laid there over a week before he could
stand up and follow you here. ‘Y/n!’ Your father yelled again. Gyllir looked up
and your smile grew bigger. ‘Go!’ You
petted his neck and he walked off, like he understood it while you walked back
to the fence. You closed it when you heard footsteps approaching, and not just
one set, more. You turned around, looking to a group of Pagans. Sjolvir stood
up, placing his high body beside you, pushing you almost out harms ways. He was
just a dog, but he was dangerous to look at, more dangerous to handle. You
raised him, he was loyal to you and nobody else. His brown yellow eyes stared
towards the pagans entering the small village like they owned it. ‘We don’t
trade with Vikings.’ Your father immediately came in between. ‘Husband.’ Your
mother reacted, pushing him out of the ways because of the Viking who was
approaching him. You never saw a viking before, but you knew their stories and in all of them, it didn’t end well for the other side, yours in this case. The villagers came together, the pagans just started looking
over the faces. You heard they were around here, taking over Wessex, but coming here, in this way, you didn’t saw that coming. ‘There is been told a animal healer lives in
this village.’ The one in front began, the axe tensed between his fingers like he was planning on using it any second. You looked down out of instinct, just
like everybody looked at you. ‘There is no such person here.’ You mother stated
friendly. Sjolvir was still gazing, really working on the nerves of one of
those men. He was tall enough to reach your hips, with his head even your
ribs. You softly kicked him against his neck, he reacted by sitting down … but
nothing more. ‘We are raiding this place soon enough, you better have that
healer around then.’ One smirked. The people started to get afraid, changing
looks before looking over to you, like they pushed you to volenteer. ‘What is it that you need?’ You asked, scared
for the answer. ‘Y/n! Don’t say another word!’ You father hissed angry. ‘Do you want to loose your head old man?’ The pagan in charge asked before turning around to you, walking a little closer, what only revealed in Sjolvir standing
up again, growling from the depths of his stomach. The pagan looked at him,
grinning, not taking the threat that dog aside you outed serious. ‘You have to
come, my leader needs your expertise.’ He commanded, like it wasn’t for
discussion. ‘If your leader needs me he can come ask himself, and bring his
problem along.’ You pointed out, friendly. These were pagans, you know about their
manors of handling things. This could get very dangerous in a small amount of
time. And that little nervous and afraid tickling in the back of your stomach
was enough for Sjolvir to keep threating the Viking before you. ‘You
don’t know much do you fragile girl. You can come with me, spare your village the trouble or
you can just stay here and I will get you my leader.’ ‘I will stay here.’ You
softly replied. The pagan started laughing, turning around while he started
talking in Norse, words you hardly understand. ‘I hope you are ready for him.’ He spitted before you on the ground, giving you that gaze from up to
down before he commanded his men to walk again. They left … without a hint of
violence, without so much as a drip of blood. You didn’t knew you held your
breath until they were out of sight. You slowly crouched down, your hand
resting on that black head of Sjolvir. He looked at you, with some kind of a
authority before gazing back to the road those Pagans left on. ‘You gonna get
yourself killed some day.’ You whispered to him.
The only time Sjolvir
wasn’t around you was on the nights. Because he loved to do some midnight walks
you locked him up in the shed with the other animals, in that way you were sure
no wild animals would get to him. On the other side, he wasn’t there to protect
you. You harshly waked up from somebody restraining your wrist and covering
your mouth. You started to kick your legs, screaming for there was no word
getting behind the firm hand over your lips. That fear, it hit you like a horse
would hit you, all at once. It grabbed at your throat while your body started
to fight against the weight that pressed down on your chest. Your eyes were wide
open and in some way you hardly saw something in the darkness. It was when they
started to adjust to it you could find the body that hold you down. You
looked for a face and found one, automatically stopping your body for whatever it wanted to do because of the coldness that face showed. Pagans
always looked ruthless, not caring, arrogant, this one was different. He had
those passionate deep blue eyes, the amusement hang around his lips, cocking up
the corner while that concentrated rumple laid in his forehead. ‘They told you
I would come.’ He hissed, lowering his face so his warm breath stroked your
skin. You swallowed the fear, trying to get your one hand free from between his
chest and yours. ‘Don’t look so afraid, it doesn’t suit you.’ He chuckled. The
hand that wrapped your mouth relaxed a little, the tip of his finger rested
shortly against your noise. ‘Don’t scream.’ He warned you, softly letting go of
your mouth. You tried to move your body away but he still held you down on so
many ways it became hard to breath. The way he pushed control onto you made
that smile so much more satisfied then it already was. ‘So, I need you to treat
my horse.’ He pointed out what you already knew. ‘And while you’re at it you
will give me your best horse in the meantime. The grey one, he looked,’ he felt
silent, looking up in the darkness so the bleu in his eyes got a different
shade of darkness. ‘outstanding.’ He followed his previous words with a softer
whispering. He knew that was your horse, he knew what Gyllir meant to you and
that made you question how much people suffered before he decided to wake you
up. ‘You can’t have him.’ You whispered under his pressure. ‘Hmmm,’ he shook
his head, fingers wrapping their way around your throat. He lowered his head
again, almost placing his lips against yours while he started to press his
fingers together. ‘I always say, who doesn’t listen just has to feel.’ You
hardly heard those words for he started to choke you. You tried to get you hand
loose, tried to get away but hardly something helped. ‘But I need you.’ He
announced after what looked like eternity. He let go of you and you loudly
pulled in fresh air. ‘Please.’ You begged. ‘No, you will do as I ask. I maybe
can’t hurt you but I can do some damage somewhere else.’ He sounded amused. ‘If
I didn’t done already.’ He grinned, pulling his weight away and turning around.
‘Get her out.’ He commanded coldly. The next thing you felt were some hands
grabbing around your upper arms, forcing you of the bed outside. Did this has to
be the end of everything? Of the good fantasy you lived?
A/N: So, this little bit
of silliness was inspired by David’s commentary in this week’sfirst sneak
peek. I don’t disagree with him – Granny’s really isn’t the place for the CS wedding – but I thought he was a bit harsh
in his overall assessment of the place. And I thought Granny definitely wouldn’t like it – and probably
would have overheard it, with her wolf-hearing and all, and so might have tried
to exact some…revenge. So. This was born – roughly 950 words of David-centric
silly fic, with a touch of Captain Charming near the end. Also, it assumes that
a little more time elapses between the sneak peek and when the wedding will
take place than will probably happen on the show – maybe a few weeks or so. Hope you all enjoy!!
It all started so subtly that David almost didn’t notice it…at
His toast had been just a little bit darker than usual one morning when he’d stopped in for
breakfast on his way to the station, but he’d washed down the slightly burnt
aftertaste with the last of his coffee and had gone on his way with barely a
Then, the burger he’d gotten one afternoon while spending
some quality bonding time with Henry had been a lot rarer than he preferred –
actually, if he was being honest, it had been practically raw – but he’d just grimaced (after discreetly spitting the one
bite he’d taken back into his napkin) and politely asked if it could be put it
back on the grill for another couple of minutes. When the plate had been
returned to the table, his burger had been perfectly cooked and he’d gone back
to enjoying the afternoon with his grandson.
In hindsight, he supposed the salt he’d received in his
coffee instead of sugar during an all-too-rare-in-recent-history date night
with Snow – an honest mistake, the
slightly frazzled waitress had pleaded – really should have been a tip-off, but at the time he’d just been too
happy that his wife had not been in full on Mother-of-the-Bride mode to think too
closely about anything else.
I'll bite—what other animal cults were involved in hamask? And if the boars were to Freyr and the wolves to Odin, to whom went the bears, do we know?
Hello queenofswords and thank you for the question. If you bite then please not too hard.
The evolution of Germanic warrior cults is sparsely documented and there is much conflicted or unclear information. There has been much lengthy academic debate on some aspects also but I will do my best to present the options here. Some of the concepts are simply that and should not be taken as facts.
The first generation of Germanic warriors of which we have concrete evidence are the Harii, who were mentioned by Tacitus in the 1st Century CE. His description gives us many connections to what we know of other religious warrior cults: “As for the Harii, quite apart from their strength, which exceeds that of the other tribes I have just listed, they pander to their innate savagery by skill and timing: with black shields and painted bodies, they choose dark nights to fight, and by means of terror and shadow of a ghostly army they cause panic, since no enemy can bear a sight so unexpected and hellish; in every battle the eyes are the first to be conquered.” Lindlow states of the Harii that "many scholars think there may be basis for the myth in an ancient Odin cult, which would be centered on young warriors who entered into an ecstatic relationship with Odin". Scholars have also proposed that the Harii would become the archetype of the Viking concept of the einherjar that are discussed in Norse Mythology and also that the Harii are the early embodiment of The Wild Hunt. You must remember that the Harii predate their possible berserker descendants by roughly 800 years.
Tacitus wrote of the Aestii (on the Baltic) who spoke a language more like British than Suebic, and who worshipped the Mother of the gods (Freyja?), that their warriors
wear, “as an emblem of this cult, the device of a wild boar, which stands them in
stead of armour or human protection and gives the worshipper a sense of security
even among his enemies”.
Also mentioned by Tacitus where a Germanic tribe known as the Chatii who lived in what is now Germany. They were documented as late as 723 by St. Boniface. It has been suggested that the Chatii warriors wore the skins of European big cats such as the Eurasian Lynx although nothing exists to connect that to a religious cult or any specific deity.
The Suebi are the first Germanic tribe with links to the (relatively) more modern Old Norse sources and runestones. Sváfa (whose name means “Suebian”) was a Valkyrie who appears in the eddic poem Helgakviða Hjörvarðssonar. The kingdom Sváfaland also appears in this poem and in the Þiðrekssaga. Scholars have linked the Suebi warriors to birds and the connection holds with the imagery of Valkyrie as birds too.
Finally we arrive at the Viking Age and the berserkers, which etymologically consists of ber (bear) and serker (skin
or cloth). However, Snorri, and his successors well into the nineteenth century,
confused ‘ber’ with ‘berr’, that is, naked. From this they concluded wrongly that
the warriors went to battle without chainmail. Instead, they should have been perceived as warriors, whose fylgja were bears, fighting
in its guise, but not necessarily wearing bear fur/coats. In Old Norse literature the
berserker is described as the most feared of all warriors, and they are mentioned along
with ulfheðnar as Odin’s warriors. It is often seen as being an animal more connected to the Saami and Finland, but also very closely associated to shamanism, including animal transformations. Bear claws in Norwegian graves from the Migration
Period are interpreted as symbolic expressions of ‘hamskifte’ (shedding or moulting your body like an animal) related to shamanistic characteristics of an Odin cult. Scholar Hilda Ellis-Davidson draws a parallel between berserkers and the mention by the Byzantine emperor Constantine VII (AD 905–959) in his book De cerimoniis aulae byzantinae (“Book of Ceremonies of the Byzantine court”) of a “Gothic Dance” performed by members of his Varangian Guard (Norse warriors working in the service of the Byzantine Empire), who took part wearing animal skins and masks: she believes this may have been connected with berserker rites.
The Úlfhéðnar are fairly well documented, with strong archeological evidence and also seem to be rather well attested throughout the historic sources as warriors dedicated to Odin. Úlfhéðnar actually translates as “wolf hood” rather than “shirt” or similar, which is interesting.
Lotte Hedeagar has a great book called “Iron Age Myth and Materiality” with several chapters dedicated to themes of human/animal merging in Viking Age people and specifically warrior cults. Mentioned and documented there are wolf, wild boar, stag and raven/eagle being attached to military gear. Several archeological finds depict warriors as half-man, half-boar such as the one below from Vendel, Sweden:
In that book she goes into great detail about the links between Boar warriors and Freyr/Freyja. There is also a very interesting paragraph where she discusses the way in which the animal invoked would define the manner in which a warrior fights:
The wolf warrior, bear warrior and wild boar warrior represent three different
forms of combat, symbolised by the three animal species. The bear represents the
solitary, independent and majestic figure with huge power and noble conduct that
nevertheless can in a fury destroy everything and everybody in its surroundings.
The wolf, however, always fights as part of a pack with strong solidarity. It is sly and
bloodthirsty. Thus berserk and ulfheðnar represent two different ways of fighting in
the Viking Age and Late Iron Age. The berserk is the individualistic warrior whose
reputation was created through his impressive courage and ability to fight. At the
same time he should never attack an un-armed or powerless enemy. Thus the
berserk is seen in contrast to the ulfheðnar, the Viking warrior group par excellence who attacked in force to plunder and destroy. Whereas the bear was a noble
enemy, the wolf was cruel and sly. In addition there was the wild boar, associated
with devastating power and savagery. Svínfylking is the name for warriors in a
wedge formation with one person in front, after that two, then three, etc… which
means in a formation corresponding to the shape of a boar’s snout. In Old Norse
literature the wild boar hamr seems mostly attached to the act of protection.
Finally, we reach the most recent example, the “trollaukin” which means to be possessed by trolls or spirits. It was a state that was mentioned as recently as the 19th Century in rulebooks for wrestling as a banned practice. It is not fully known what it meant to be “possessed by trolls/spirits”. It could be that after Christianisation that the Norse pantheon were considered demons, devils or other supernatural spirits/trolls and that invoking those deities might be considered as invoking trolls or spirits. Maybe it is a more modern update where those trolls or spirits still hold religious status (such as in folk belief) and the invocation was used to become augmented by these trolls, often seen as forces of nature by this time and descendants of the ancient Jotnar of Norse Mythology.
While my answer is far from exhaustive, I am aware that it has gotten quite lengthy so I hope that answers your question satisfactorily.
Til års og fred.
Lindow, John (2001). Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs.
Orchard, Andy (1997). Dictionary of Norse Myth and Legend.
Simek, Rudolf (2007). Dictionary of Northern Mythology.
Peterson, Lena. (2002). Nordiskt runnamnslexikon, at Institutet för språk och folkminnen.
Hedeager, Lotte. (2012) Iron Age Myth and Materiality
Your pictures just make my heart so happy! I used to do Viking reenactment a few years ago but had to leave my local/regional group because of a lot of racism that was coming out. I've missed being able to do the reenactment ever since, and seeing your photos reminds me of the beauty that pulled me into reenactment. It makes me long to start my own Viking reenactment group.
I’m so happy my reenactment group has a pretty strict no racism policy. It’s a shame that the community is so riddled with such filth.
Starting your own group sounds like a great idea, and I think you should do it. Nothing makes reenactment more enjoyable than good company!
The Vikings - groups of people who left Scandinavia to plunder and colonize northern Europe (and who traveled as far afield as northeastern North America and the great kingdoms of the Middle East) - had a distinctive artistic tradition, although many of the metals that they had were acquired through conquest and the silver for this bracelet likely was melted down from other silver objects, perhaps some acquired by looting a monastery or trading in the Mediterranean. Silver jewelry also had the dual role of being a form of currency and possibly also ritual offerings - most of our knowledge of Viking jewelry comes from buried hoards.
I'm curious to know what you expect to see out of Hiccup, Toothless, and Astrid in the third movie. Have you talked about that yet? (And are you anticipating a large time jump again between the end of this movie and the next?)
I haven’t talked about them yet in one post! Thanks so much for the question!
HTTYD 3 will definitely not have a large time jump into the future. The third movie is meant to be about Hiccup growing into his role as chief, as stated by Dean DeBlois in an interview. To jump far into the future negates the efficacy of a personal growth story, for several years in the future, Hiccup will have become far more comfortable and accustomed with his new role. It makes far more sense to have HTTYD 3 occur about half a year later when twenty or twenty-one Hiccup is still raw in his position as chief, but at least has confronted and handled the hardest part of losing his father. This is a great set-up for the story; he is not going to be an emotional mess, but he’s still going to feel awkward in his duties.
And in fact I would positively love if the opening of the first scene in HTTYD 3 mirrors the start of HTTYD 1. Imagine Hiccup making a large mistake before the entire village and staring, wide-eyed, thinking, “Oops.” That would be a great parallel to his teenaged dragon-catching ventures in the first movie and set the stage for how he has yet to expand into his leadership role.
As is such, Hiccup is going to probably confidentially rant to Valka and/or Gobber and/or Astrid about his problems as a chief, though it is likely Spitelout and other Viking veterans will advise him in official situations.
The first act of HTTYD 3 deals directly with Toothless and the other dragons. Valka is said to be critical here in this first act as “Hiccup’s greatest ally.” Now this can go several ways. It can pertain to a return of Drago Bludvist and his Bewildebeast, in which case her dragon knowledge is critical to people taking him down; it can pertain to the dragons alone connected to the connection of their disappearance; or it could pertain to the Hooligans of Berk meeting with other Viking Tribes where Valka is a voucher for the dragon species. One thing of interest here is the word “greatest” pertaining to “ally”. What does that mean? Does that mean Hiccup has other allies? And why use the word “ally” to refer to someone in your home city instead of someone you are pacted with from a different nation? This means it is possible that Hiccup is going to be meeting Vikings or other people groups outside of Berk, but that Valka’s presence as the feral vigilante dragon lady is most critical of everyone around. And she’s most critical because of her skillset in dragons. So right from the start of the movie, it’s all about the problems with the dragons.
There will be more war about dragons. Poor Hiccup and Toothless WILL confront Drago again. The art book in HTTYD 2 outright says that they could put Drago’s war machines in greater depth in HTTYD 3. So there’s a decent chance Hiccup’s going to be leading Berk, the dragons, and maybe other people sick of Drago in a war.
This is where details get really shaky for me. I suspect Drago is NOT the only villain at all. That would be too redundant. It also would feel stale to show off simply another power hungry human villain introduced in HTTYD 3, meaning we have to get creative. Drago needs to be defeated completely because he represents Hiccup’s foil, and Hiccup’s philosophical stance needs to show to morally triumph over Drago’s. So Drago cannot be the reason the dragons disappear unless the aftermath effects of his actions lead the dragons away. So I would suspect that the second, unknown contending force is what separates Hiccup and Toothless. I would not be surprised if it is some natural force, maybe even nonliving force, or otherwise a draconic one, that leads to the end.
Night Furies will be a part of this unknown-conflict equation and they will be introduced around the end of the first act and the beginning of the second one, potentially even before. Toothless’ interaction with the Night Furies will be an overall positive one. Through this, we will learn a lot about the nature of the dragons, and the fact the Night Furies have disappeared already will directly clue us into why the rest of the dragons are going to leave, too. In the meantime, Toothless’ early interactions with dragons will bring up new and interesting information about his species and the dragons as a whole.
There will be no key deaths, most definitely not to the same level of Stoick. The death of a dragon is much more likely than the death of a human, and for sure Toothless, Gobber, Valka, and Astrid will survive. But something hard will hit with the dragons (hence suggestion of a dragon death, perhaps a Night Fury) that make it clear they ALL one hundred percent HAVE to leave. Nothing short of that would separate Hiccup from Toothless. There are scenarios where not every dragon leaves on Berk, but I think it’s likely Toothless is going to go along with everyone else.
Another critical event I wouldn’t mind happening just because of book eleven parallels and drama and character growth opportunities would be Hiccup being captured, separated for a long time, etc. by the enemy and need to be rescued by Astrid. This is mostly personal desires, though, not prediction.
Toothless will make the choice himself to leave and Hiccup will not try to force his mind on the dragon. He will see what his best friend wants and realize it is for the best. There will be that “oh” moment for Hiccup and audiences at the same time Toothless rears to go. Earlier in the movie Hiccup and Toothless will believe that they can do something to keep the two species together, but after said impacting low event, they realize that is not the correct answer. Everyone has a better life if the dragons leave Berk and the Barbaric Archipelago. As leaders, chief and alpha, it is the most responsible choice to separate permanently. Right after a climax where Hiccup and Toothless demonstrate their full capabilities as chief and alpha and kick enemy butt, they will be the great leaders they have grown up to be and make the hard choice for their respective peoples. There will be an implicit suggestion the dragons might not have to leave forever, but possibly can return.
Astrid will not have the forefront, but she will show she can kick butt in war scenes. Her saving Hiccup would make me happy, as I have before said.
And she and Hiccup will marry right at the end. It will be the happy event either *right* before or *right *after the dragons leave. I am leaning more towards happy event after they leave to offset the sadness. Remember, DeBlois calls HTTYD 3 “bittersweet,” not tragic.
The final scene is the one where Hiccup is the most likely to move forward in time. We know Dean DeBlois is captivated by the opening lines of the first book and that he is writing up to that point where Hiccup is looking back as an old man to his childhood. Whether or not Hiccup actually is animated as an old man is irrelevant. But he will say a modified version of the first book’s opening prologue. We could have flashbacks or new material visually on screen. Aurally, my bet is the last sentence Hiccup ever says will be a modified version of the first sentence he says in the books. “There were dragons when I was a boy” will be syntactically modified to correlate with the last sentence pattern all the other ending monologues have. “But when I was a boy, there were… dragons,” is my prediction, and if I am right within two words of that hypothesis, someone better Odindarned pay me.
I wish I could be more specific, but this is what I expect, and a little of what I desire, in the third movie regarding Hiccup, Astrid, and Toothless.
why don't you like astrid's (from httyd) visual design? genuinely curious, because you mentioned something about the message it sends but i can't think of what that is (and i'm always up for more critically examining things so)
Thanks for the question!
Hiccup is established as supposedly smaller and thinner than all of his peers, which is implied to mean that he’s physically weaker as well, and all-around just not very viking-esque, and yet Astrid — supposedly the best/strongest most viking-ly viking in their peer group — is smaller and thinner than he is.
With a whole culture based around being large and scary and badass, which has made Hiccup dislike himself because he’s small, why is the girl who is supposed to be the most attractive girl around… tiny?
We’ve been shown a few awesome Viking women with some meat on their bones, nearly all of the adult vikings (male or female) are heavyset, and yet three of Hiccup’s five peers (including the only two girls) are skinny little twigs.
Why couldn’t Astrid have been Astrid, badass tough sexy Astrid who has at least two boys her age drooling over her, and also have been at least beefier than Hiccup?
She looks like a supermodel after the photoshop and it makes me furious that that is literally the only available female body type in kids movies depicting how young girls should aspire to look.
It is literally impossible to look like Astrid. You would die. Being skinny is fine — there’s nothing wrong with being thin — but this is fucking ridiculous:
Meanwhile, there is NOTHING WRONG with looking like the Astrid on the right. Yet there are almost ZERO examples of realistically proportioned girls in kids media, and none that I can think of that aren’t still moderately thin.
Animated girls must have impossibly thin waists in order to be considered attractive, and the message that sends is disgusting.
Astrid is way too cool of a character, from way to cool of a culture, to be forced into our culture’s standard of beauty just because the designers didn’t think the audience would be able to relate to a boy who found a different body type attractive (or god forbid found a girl attractive for reasons independent of her body), or to a girl who wasn’t rail thin.