#Leif x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fantasydreamland · 1 month ago

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New Friend

leif eriksson x fem reader

Summary: You quickly become good friends with a man you have just met. His crew is set out for battle and in need of your healing skills. As you accompany them on the journey you grow even closer to your new friend.

Notes: 18+ only!!! Mostly fluff, some smut, some spoilers kinda, mini chapters

word count: 3606

masterlist

Chapter 1

“Who is that?” Leif asks Freydis, staring toward the ships docking.

“I do not know. It looks like a returning merchant ship.” Freydis responds. “Why?”

Leif shrugs in response and walks off stealing glances in your direction. He watches you from the other side of the dock and when your bright (e/c) eyes connect with his he doesn’t look away. It surprises him when you hold the eye contact and give him a bashful smile. He smiles back before you turn away continuing on with unloading the boat.

Later that night there is a feast in the main hall. The room bustles with loud conversation and laughter as everyone enjoys their food and drink. Leif occasionally glances around the room in search of you.

“Who are you looking for?” Freydis asks.

“What?” Leif says caught off guard. “No one.” He shrugs and looks down as he eats his food.

The night goes on and the tables become less crowded as the ale puts to sleep those who over indulged. Leif finally notices you on the opposite side of the hall. He frowns when he sees you sitting alone looking tired and sad.

“Excuse me.” Leif says to the table before getting up.

He casually wanders his way over to you. Your eyes meet his as he cautiously approaches the table and sits across from you. You look at him with a confused smile and questioning eyes.

“Hi.” He finally says. “I’m Leif. Eriksson.”

“Hi.” You smile. “(y/n).”

He gently shakes your hand, your soft fingers brushing against his calloused ones.

“You looked so lonely over here.” He says almost as a question. “I felt I needed to come and check on you.”

“Well, thank you sir.” You smile even warmer at him.

Your smile made his heart swell. He nearly missed what you said next because he was so hypnotized by it.

“My supper companions… have found company for the night.” You say jokingly rolling your eyes.

“Are you merchants?” He asks.

“Better healer than a tradesman I’m afraid. But I travel with the merchants usually. It’s a good way to see some of the world, and they are always in need of a healer.” You instantly begin to open up to him, not really understanding why.

“So you are from Kattegat then?”

“Yes, I was born here. My mother died of illness not long ago… I never knew my father. It will always be home but I want to go out and live my life, you know? We only have so much of it…”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your blush when you realize you’re over sharing to this total stranger.

“I am sorry to hear about your mother.” He places a hand on yours.

You simply nod in response as you choke back the incoming tears.

“So, where are you from?” You ask him, desperately wanting to change the topic.

“Greenland.” He simply says.

“What brings you to Kattegat?”

“I am just passing through.” He lightly shrugs.

“Oh? And how long are you staying?”

“We leave in two days.”

You try to hide your slight disappointment but Leif notices the change in your face.

“We… are in need of a healer.” He suggests. “If you would be willing to come.”

“Where are we going?” You phrase the question as if you’ve already decided.

“That is um… complicated. It would be best if you did not know.” He hesitates.

“Ok…” You furrow your brows at him. “Is it far?”

“No. Not far at all. We are traveling by foot but we also have some horses. Myself and a small crew. It should only take us a few days to get there.”

“Ok… and why are we going to this mysterious place that I shall not know of?” You ask, your expression unreadable.

“There is a battle to be had…” He says lowly.

“Ok…” You say once again. “…and what is this battle?”

“It um- would be best if you did not know that either.” He knew how it all sounded so he did not expect your next words.

“Well… in that case I better go and sleep off this ale. If there is to be a battle, I have much to prepare before we depart.” You say as you stand from the table.

“I- uh- ok. Ok great.” Leif says in surprise. “I can walk you to your house?”

You nod with a smile and take his arm before leaving the hall. Leif makes light conversation with you as you walk the short path to your small house. Your arm fits around his so comfortably but the feeling makes your cheeks burn. You let go once you arrive at your door.

“Goodnight then, Greenlander.” You smile. “I shall see you in the morning?”

“Yes. Yes, see you in the morning.” He smiles back. “Goodnight, (y/n).”

—

Chapter 2

You meet with Leif the next morning and he introduces you to the small crew.

“This is Harald Siguredsson… And my sister, Freydis Eriksdotter.”

You get acquainted with everyone as they welcome you warmly. You discuss medicines and other things you may need for the travels. Leif keeps his eyes firmly on you as you talk with the others but you pretend not to notice.

“I shall see all of you tomorrow then.” You say to the group once you’re finished, eyes lingering on Leif.

They say their goodbyes but Leif catches up to you as you turn away.

“Do you need help with preparing anything?”

You smile warmly at him and nod. “I could certainly use some help, yes.”

You walk back to your house and Leif follows you inside. He looks around your small but cozy space. The small kitchen has a large table in the corner covered in different herbs and flowers and multiple mortars scattered about it. There was curtains hanging in the doorway to a small bedroom. Through the crack he caught a glimpse of your bed and a tub in the corner. You begin to organize the messy table as you make your preparations.

“What can I do?” Leif walks over to you.

You smile up at him. Each time you smiled at him it made his heart skip a beat. You hand him a mortar and pestle along with some plants.

“I need you to grind these up for me. As fine as you can please, the leafs will start to form a paste.”

He simply nods and begins crushing the herbs before him. As you both work with busy hands you ask more about him and his life and he tells you of Greenland and of his family. He then asks you about yours and you tell him how you grew up on a small farm at the edges of Kattegat with your mother. She taught you all about plants and healing mixtures. After she died you moved to a smaller place and began the occasional travel with the merchants, making coin with your healing skills. You enjoyed the escape but you always returned home.

It felt oddly comfortable to open up to Leif. The conversation seemed to flow between you like you had known each other for years.

“When did she die?” Leif asks.

Your hands pause and you frown looking down.

“6 months ago.” You choke out as you hold back tears.

“I am sorry…” He places his hand over yours.

Tears still in your eyes, you give him a soft smile and squeeze his hand in response before resuming your preparations. After that you mostly work in comfortable silence, occasionally giving Leif a new plant to grind and him asking questions about what they do. Then there were the silent glances and smiles that made your heart beat a little faster.

Once everything was finally prepared the sun had begun to set. You say goodnight to each other as Leif gets ready to head back to the inn.

“Thank you so much for your help today.” You say as he stands in the open doorway. “You have helped me more than you know.”

“Anytime.” He simply smiles and heads out the door. “See you tomorrow!” He calls behind him.

“See you.” You say under your breath.

—

Chapter 3

The next morning you wake and gather up your things for the trip. You walk down to the inn that the majority of the crew were staying at. You see Freydis outside and she waves you over with a smile.

“Good morning!” She smiles as she grabs your bags from you and hands them to another man loading the cart.

“Thank you.” You smile. “And good morning.”

You see the whole crew on the move preparing for the trip. Until someone was sick or wounded there was not much else for you to do.

“Can I do anything to help?” You ask Freydis.

“Hmm, uh, yes actually! Can you go and wake Leif?” She asks. “He is still sleeping and we are leaving soon.”

“Uh, yes sure.” You nod.

“Thank you, he is in room 3.” She gestures her head to the inn. “Down the hall, last door on the left. Please be quick about it we are almost ready.”

You nod again and quickly make your way into the inn and find room 3 down the hall. You fully expected Leif to be asleep in his bed so you open the door knocking lightly. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see him standing there shirtless. Your eyes quickly trace over the tattoos on his muscular back before he turns around and notices you. You catch a glimpse of his bare hips as he pulls his pants up. Your eyes dart back up to his questioning ones. You have to focus to stop your eyes from wandering back down to where his hands were lacing up his pants, also bringing attention to his toned abs.

“I- uh. Sorry. We- uh. Um. We- uh.” The heat rises in your cheeks as you stand there feeling like a stuttering idiot.

You clear your throat and finally get the words out. “We are leaving…”

“Ok, I am ready. I was just getting dressed.” He says nonchalantly as he pulls his shirt over his head, clearly not noticing how flustered you are.

You follow him out of the building and join the rest of the group as you head off for the journey.

—

Chapter 4

You walk all day with the group, sharing stories and laughs along the way. Considering you did not know where you were going or what battle awaited them you felt safe with your companions.

Once the sun begins to set you find a spot to camp for the night. You eat supper around the campfire chatting away to Freydis sitting beside you. Occasionally you would catch Leif watching you from across the fire.

The temperature drops as the night gets later. Everyone begins to say their goodnights and retreat to their tents. Soon you and Leif are left alone sitting across each other. Your eyes meet in glances causing a soft smile from Leif. You stare back into the fire to hide your blushing. Shivering a little, you pull your cloak tighter around yourself.

“You look cold.” Leif breaks the silence.

“How observant of you.” You playfully tease. “That would be because I am.”

“Why don’t you come over here? We can keep each other warm.” He smiles.

You meet his eyes for a moment before crawling around the fire and cuddling up beside him as he wraps his arm around you. The heat radiating from his body warms you instantly. You both sit in comfortable silence looking into the fire. After a moment he rests his head on top of yours making your heart swell. As soon as you rest your eyes you began to drift off to sleep. Leif could feel your body beginning to go limp and held you tighter.

“Hey…” He whispers to you as you wake again. “Why don’t you go and get some sleep? I’ll help you to your tent.”

“I am fine.” You say shaking off your sleepiness. You did not want to go back to your cold tent alone you just wanted to remain in his warm arms.

“Do you not want to sleep?” He pulls back to raise his eyebrow at you.

“I just want to remain here with you.” You sheepishly admit.

Leif can’t help the wide grin that comes to his face.

“Well, we cannot sleep out here in the cold.” He begins to move to stand.

“Leif-“ You grab his arm, making him sit back down.

His confused eyes meet yours but then soften when he understands the unspoken words behind your eyes while you stare deeply into his.

He leans towards you, eyes briefly glancing to your lips. He moves at a pace that causes the anticipation to ache in your chest. Finally, his lips brush against yours in a soft tender kiss. You could feel the sparks the second your lips touched like fireworks had just gone off inside you both. He pulls away softly and smiles to you before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“We should get some sleep. We could continue to keep each other warm?” He says standing up and holding his hand out to you.

You nod and take his hand as he pulls you up to stand. He continues to hold onto your hand as he leads you to his tent, which was slightly larger than yours.

Once inside you shed your cloak and top layers, placing them in the corner. Leif does the same until you are both left in your thin shirts and bottoms. You crawl under the furs and cuddle up to him for warmth. He pulls you in close, wrapping both his strong arms tightly around you. Your heart races as his embrace feels so unfamiliar yet so comfortable. You close your eyes to sleep. He kisses the top of your head causing a smile to form on your lips. His steady heartbeat thumping against your ear causes you to quickly drift off into a peaceful sleep, more peaceful than either of you have had in a long time.

The next morning you throw the rest of your clothing back on and crawl out of Leif’s tent after your bladder had woken you up. You jump when your eyes are met by a single Viking already starting up the morning fire. Harald gives you a knowing smirk and raises his brow at you, glancing between you and Leif’s tent. You give him an embarrassed smile before you hurry away into the woods.

—

Chapter 5

You and Leif had not had a moment to speak alone as you traveled with the group for most of the day. You did not think you were acting any different but the others could sense something had shifted. When you finally stop to make camp you suggest that you and Leif should try to find some fish at the nearby river.

“How did you sleep?” Leif asks as you walk together.

“Very well.” You smile at him. “And you?”

“Very well.” He smiles back.

“I believe I can take some credit for your peaceful sleep.” You wink.

“I suppose I could do the same.” He smirks.

“I have never met anyone quite like you Greenlander.” You smile adoringly.

“I have never met anyone quite like you, (y/n). I think I-“ He pauses.

“What?” You turn to him as you both stop walking.

“I think I am in love with you.” He admits.

“Leif-“

Before you can respond he boldly grabs your face and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. You freeze for a moment of surprise before relaxing against him and throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss continues and his tongue slips in to gently caress yours. He is gentle and passionate and all you can think is how you love this man too.

“Leif…” You whisper when your lips part.

Your eyes meet and he looks at you with pure adoration.

“We have fish to catch…” You say and he nods removing his hands from your face.

“And…” You move your hand to brush his cheek with your thumb. “I think I am in love with you too.”

He grins widely and places another quick kiss to your lips. You hold his hand as you make your way to the river to catch some fish for supper.

—

Chapter 6

As soon as the sun began to rise so did the crew. You rush around with them as they pack up camp. They needed to continue traveling as soon as possible, they planned to reach the battle today.

They soon stop again to make one last camp in preparation for the battle. You had a tent set up with a large work table and you begin to prepare everything you may need following the fight.

Leif steps into your tent to say goodbye. He quickly cups your cheeks and gives a firm kiss to your lips. You pull him close as you kiss him back.

“Please do not die.” You whisper as your thumb strokes the hand on your face.

“I will do my best.” He places a final kiss to your forehead and walks out of the tent. He could not bear spending long to say goodbye to you knowing it could be the last time.

You had been pacing for hours now waiting for everyone to return from the battle. Waiting for Leif to return. The more time that passes the more you worry. There was a very real chance he may never return. A very real chance he had been killed. The thoughts swirl around in your mind and cause your chest to tighten.

Finally, you hear the commotion outside of people returning. You run out and desperately search around for Leif. You spot the rest of your crew and your heart sinks. You begin to walk over to Freydis but before she spots you a hand grabs your shoulder. You spin around to see Leif standing behind you shirtless, covered in blood and dirt, with wild messy hair. His face expressionless.

“Oh Leif!” You throw your arms around him not caring about the blood now staining your clothes. “I was so worried I had lost you for good… Are you hurt?” You pull back and examine him frantically for any noticeable wounds.

“I am fine. Can we go inside?” He says flatly.

You raise a brow at his tone but then nod and follow him into the tent. Once the curtains are shut you turn to Leif.

“Are you alright?” You barely get the words out before his lips are on yours, pulling you into a ferocious kiss that takes your breath away.

“No.” He mumbles against your lips. “There were moments… I thought I would never… see you again.” He says between kisses.

He cups your face and kisses you hungrily like a starved animal. The air is filled with a mountain of different emotions as you kiss him back with a burning passion. His tongue demands entrance and you happily oblige. The metallic taste of the blood on his lips makes you pull him closer to you, the fear of nearly losing him today too much to bear.

Suddenly he lifts you up and throws you down onto the table causing a bunch of things to clatter to the ground. You pay no attention the fallen items as he starts kissing and nipping at your neck. You feel his hardness pushing against your core and it lights a fire within you. Your hands wander all over each other as your lips connect again. You run your fingers over his bloody chest and strong biceps as he moves to grab your breasts through your shirt.

As things become more heated you begin to tear at each other’s clothes. He shoves your skirts up to your hips and grinds harder against you, making you gasp into his mouth. He begins pulling the laces of your top as you frantically fumble with the strings of his pants. Your body felt electric from how desperately you needed him right now. Your mind was completely blurred by the feeling him.

Before you could get any further Freydis bursts into the tent startling you both.

“Oh… I- uh- I am sorry…” She stutters in surprise. “But we uh- need our healer out here.”

“Yes, of course of course. Apologies...” You quickly scramble to your feet and straighten yourself out.

Freydis gives you a nod and a knowing smirk to Leif before leaving the tent. You turn to Leif who’s now holding a damp rag. He gently wipes off the bit of blood from your face and neck. It was a sweet gesture although you knew you would be covered in blood again in a moment once you helped the wounded. His eyes meet yours and he smiles down at you before kissing your forehead.

“Go on.” He gestures his head to outside.

“I am so glad you are alive and safe.” You grab his hands and kiss his lips once more.

He did not need to respond for you to know exactly how he felt. You smile and gaze lovingly at each other before you move to gather your supplies, including those now on the floor, and exit the tent. You tried not to let the overwhelming thoughts of him cloud your mind while you worked. You could not help but count the minutes until you could have privacy with him tonight.

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thewritersofdeceased · 21 days ago

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𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. . . . 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞.

Leif x Daemon!Reader ;; Gender Neatural pronouns ;; I don't know if I have any fans for "My Inner Demons", but it's become my strongesuit for a while, so here' s a fic of Leif and a Daemon!Reader!!

Battles on Daemos were always dangerous. Leif knew that, as he did them to protect the prince, Asch. But that wasn’t the only person he’d do it to protect. Y/N was another. Sure, Y/N was another knight that would help and work with him and the other four idiots that Asch had hired, but Leif had grown this… feeling. It was a weird feeling, Leif didn’t like it. Being a former assassin and a knight to the prince, the white-haired boy didn’t trust anyone. He had lost both his family, being abandoned by them, alongside with his former friends during a mission. Of course he would get some trust issues from doing so. But when it comes to these stupid feelings? They weren’t about trust or anything about that. No. He got this tingly feeling in his chest? He despised it.

Leif sat quietly in the room he had been given by the royals of daemos, sharpening the sickles he loved oh so dearly. It’d been recent that a fight broke out between a couple of the village folks, resulting in the knights that had been out and about to step in and even it all out. Yet, of course, the daemos had strength. Unbelievable strength sometimes. A low sigh would escape Leif as he stared down at the ground, a hum escaping him upon hearing a knock at his door. He had remained quiet for a couple seconds as the knocking continued. Before eventually, he’d call out with an annoyed tone. “Come in.” He was tired, and the knocking was bound to drive him insane if he heard any more of it.

To his surprise, who had entered the room was Y/N. His head lifted slightly, his brow raising as well. “Leif.” Y/N would speak, their tone calm as they stared at the boy. Leif would merely hum as a response to the other, as if confused. Y/N would make their way over to him, standing directly in front of the boy. “I wanted to thank you.” They’d speak with their rather monotone voice, such as Pierce’s. Then again, Pierce had some emotion to an extent, but it was usually monotone, after all, he had been the general before becoming a knight to Asch. “Thank me for what?” Leif questioned the other, standing to his feet slightly as Y/N took steps back in order to not be right in front of the sickles now held by Leif.

“For protecting me.” Y/N explained, watching as the other paused in his steps, having been making his way over to the wall that held his sickle holders. His eyes were widened slightly, as if he’d been surprised on the wording of the other. He was nervous to reply. Why had he protected them? Y/N could handle their own, he’d seen it face to face when the two would train and spar together when given the time. He’d merely nod in response for a moment or so, before with a soft tone and partially nervous expression, he’d speak up. “...you’re welcome.” He mumbled out, placing his sickles onto the holders and sheaths on the wall. When he’d turned around he noticed the smile that seemed to have formed on Y/N’s face.

It only resulted in a confused look appearing on Leif’s expression now. “..What?” He looked away, arms crossing now. That’s when something had pierced through his ears. Laughter. Y/N was laughing. “You sounded so nervous as to say you’re welcome is all.” They explained to the boy, who had made his way back to stand besides the other. “Because I don’t often say it. Or thank you.” Leif reminded, gently nudging the other with a slight chuckle escaping him. He towered over the other slightly, yet not too tall. The two looked at one another, but it wasn’t long until a sharp toothy grin would appear on Leif’s face. Y/N was rather surprised at this, yet didn’t make a comment. It was rare of the boy to smile like that after all.

Leif was always prone to violence, but not with Y/N. Between the two of them, there was a couple seconds of silence before Leif had spoken up. “Hey, Y/N?” His voice was above a whisper, like he was nervous of something again. “Hm?” Y/N hummed in response to the boy, looking over to him with a tilted head. “What’s up, Leif? Am I being kicked out already?” They questioned, before feeling a pair of arms wrap tightly around them. Their eyes had widened in surprise at first, but slowly, they wrapped their arms around Leif’s taller and muscular form. “...thanks. For not thinking I’m a monster or just a killer.” Those words hit Y/N’s heart, a small frown appearing on their face.

“You’ve never been a monster, Leif. You only did what you had to in order to survive.” Y/N rambled slightly, continuing to hold the boy in their arms. They could feel the tension that had been on Leif’s shoulders relax, his eyes closing as his head rested along Y/N’s shoulder. It was like he could fall asleep right there. “Now, get some sleep, Leify. We have training tomorrow morning. Alongside an important message from Lady Grandma with all of the other knights.” Y/N spoke again, beginning to unravel themself from Leif’s arms. Only a chuckle escaped the white haired knight as he let go. “Yeah, yeah. Goodnight then, Y/N.” Leif hummed, ruffling the shorter’s hair, who tried smacking his hand away. “Heyy!” They let out laughs, turning to walk towards the door. “Goodnight, Leif.”

#Leif x reader #my inner demons x reader #my inner demons #mid #MID aphmau #aphmau x reader

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introverted-imagineer · 2 years ago

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Renegades (Part 2)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Religious Themes, Romantic Themes.

‘You cannot ignore me forever, young one’ he said so philosophically.

‘Yeah? Well I’ve been doing it for all these years so far’ I snarled back

‘And yet, you end up here, in this unhappy place, you can’t escape fate Y/N, it has come to you’

‘You aren’t real, you are an illusion, a ghost, a figment of my imagination’ I sternly retorted, more to convince myself more than anything.

‘People travel great lengths to find me Y/N, I see all, yet people do all to see me’

‘Then why don’t you go annoy those people’

‘Who are you talking to?’

My body jolted at the sudden interruption, abruptly sitting up to find Leif in the same spot as last night, only standing with a curious and concerned look on his face. ‘Nobody…just myself’ I whispered, burying myself into the blanket. I could sense Leif sitting there, that puzzled look of contemplation on his face. ‘I forgot you were there’ I mumbled, more to myself than Leif. I could hear him smirk at the comment.

That was a rule when I was young…when he first started to appear. Mother put it down to the side effects of the flu…but his visits became more frequent as I grew older. Frightening as he was, his eyes sewn shut, his lips the colour of liquid tar, pale and hooded like a lost soul in the night. His presence however was never as petrifying as it seemed to others. Although nobody else seemed to be able to see him, my mother shook in her boots whenever she caught me talking to him. ‘You are not well Y/N, there is nobody there’ she would say soothingly, calmly brushing my hair back. Looking back though, I think she was more afraid of me than him. The rule was set in place when it became too frequent and too much for her. Never ever let anyone know anything.

‘Are you going to kill me now?’ I whispered, my eyes averted to the floor so as to not look him in the eyes. That look of his, so painfully intriguing. It would be less troublesome to keep my eyes averted than to find myself encapsulated in his gaze. I could see his feet freeze in place as his feet pivoted in my direction. ‘I won’t’ he said under his breath to himself as he busied himself by adjusting the axe in his belt. It was comforting, even if he didn’t mean for me to hear, but that only applied to my existence confined within these walls. On the other side…that was a different story.

‘Am I the only one left?’ I timidly questioned, my only ounce of protection being the blanket I desperately wrapped my body into. He took in a deep breath, one that encapsulated the whole of his body as it heavily moved up and down. He turned around as if offended by the question. ‘Maybe you should just focus on yourself’ he huffed as he reached for the door, slamming it shut behind him. The board jiggled behind him as I could hear the wooden plank slide back into the place where Mother Brynhorn had done before.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

I hated this place, I hated everything about it. From the windowless rooms that served more as torture chambers, to the mice that scuttled through the gaping holes in the stone-cracked walls, to the daily routine of silence and prayer that made one's knees cripple each day. But most of all, I hated the people. The evil, cruelness that radiated the walls. Christians, they called themselves, a people living truly under God’s rule.

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.

Love, however, did not apply to farm girls who saw things that others could not…

Outside this existence, I was just a daughter to a humble family. Christian, rural, a child amongst many. The youngest of brothers, a welcome blessing to my mother as she had said. Father had not too much to say on the matter of having a girl, but there was one thing that was undeniably true. Once I was born, my father barely ever touched my mother again.

‘Danger comes to you my child’

‘Didn’t I just tell you to leave me alone’ I snarled as the poltergeist stood in the corner of the room.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking into my soul through his. He didn’t need eyes, he clearly had something more powerful. But as mother says…it’s not real.

‘The God’s have sent me to you, it is no choice of mine, nor is it yours’ he murmured in a tone that sends shivers down my spine.

‘Well you just tell the Go…’ I begun to lecture, before I looked up to see his presence disappear. A piercing screech scraped across the outside of the door making my teeth chatter. The door flung open to reveal Leif stood there, another man by his side watching over.

‘You must come with me’ he sa himid quietly, a sensation of dread in his voice. I grounded my feet flat on the floor, clutching onto the lumpy mattress as I adamantly shook my head in disagreement. ‘you must’ he said, taking a step forward. I took in a deep gasp as anxiety and panic took over. Whimpers came out as I stuttered, pleading to be left alone. Dying alone in this room of starvation, cold, eaten alive by rats was more desirable than facing the Vikings on the other side of the door…their King in particular whose brief encounter was enough to haunt my dreams forever. I could hear Leif inhale a deep breath, his strong hand then clasping onto my upper arm, prying my body from its place, practically storming out the door and down the corridor.

My terrified cries of pleas went unnoticed by the Greenlander, his counterparts loitered up and down the corridor, laughing at my cries of distress. Leif however had his gaze fixed upon the task at hand. Taking me to my death.

I collapsed to the floor with a loud thud, the door to the grand hall slamming shut behind me as Leif took a step back from the large circle of Vikings stood in a circle around the ceremonial throne. My body shook as it collided with the cold wooden floor, my teeth sounding as they slammed together chattering as my chin shook. My state of despair was pleasing to the Vikings as they roared in laughter, downing sacramental wine as if it were water. A muffled shout sounded from the ceremonial throne. I slowly looked up to find Elder Aefentid tied to the seat, his mouth gagged by the ropes that usually rested around his waist. His look mirrored my petrified state.

‘Well, I didn’t expect to see you here young one’ that deep haunting voice taunted. The Vikings in the room went silent, standing to attention as the doors to the hall slammed shut. Every eye in the room was fixated on the man behind me. I kept my head down.

His footsteps loud, paced forward incredibly slowly, coming closer and closer to me as I sat knelt on the floor with my eyes glued to the floor. I body jolted as a gentle brush of fingers danced on my head. His thick finger swirled the locks on top of my head, wrapping them around his finger. ‘And yet, here you are’ he noted, as if it were a grand performance. His body slammed to the ground, as he knelt next to me, clutching my neck within his palm, forcing me to look at Elder Aefentid. His petrified eyes looked back at mine. I let out a wail, letting out a deep cry. The King chuckled to himself, wrapping his other arm around my body, pulling my body into his embrace as he placed his lips upon my temple. ‘Shush, shush, shush’ he cried, performing to the spectators around him. His cruelness not escaping me. His grasp around my throat slightly tightened threateningly. ‘Tell us child, who is the man in the chair?’ He beseeched. Hot tears fell down my cheek as I tried to shake my head, but the King's hand held onto my neck rigidly, trapping my face where it was. His clutch tightened even more, stopping the already weak airflow from travelling to my lungs. ‘I will ask you again, who is the man in that chair?’

‘E..El…Elder Aefentid’ I choked out in a whisper. The King shook his head, his eyes averted to the ground, dissatisfied with the answer to the question he so desperately sought. ‘He is the leader here’ I whispered. The King's demeanour changed from one of dissatisfaction to genuine pleasure as his mouth broke into a grin, a deep laugh emitting from his stomach. The King stood from the floor, his hand unclasping from my throat, using my head to hoist his balance from the ground. The Vikings around him joined in with his laughter as the King paraded around the circle. ‘THIS MAN, A LEADER!’ He cried to his subjects. Their roars of laughter emitting even louder. However one stood apart from all the others, quiet, stone-faced, impassive. Leif Erikkson stuck out like a sore thumb.

Canute walked up to the constricted man in the ceremonial throne. Elder Aefentid, yesterday a powerful malicious leader, today a prisoner in his own home. The King mockingly ripped the rope from Elder Aefentid’s mouth, his neck whiplashing at the speed and strength which he did.

‘YOU VIKING SCUM, GOD WILL SEE TO IT YOU ALL ROT IN THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF HELL’ he screamed, his throat slightly raspy in his delivery. The Viking King rounded the throne, looking undeterred by his verbal assault. The King stood there, leaning against the side of the throne, his arm extending, pointing his finger directly at me. ‘You speak old Norse, tell me what your leader said’ emphasising the term leader in a tone of disparagement. I could feel my jaw drop from beneath me, while my muscles clenched and my throat closed. ‘What. Did. He. Say?’ He demanded, taking a step forward between each word toward me.

‘He urges you to seek Christ’ I retorted. The King seemed sinisterly pleased. ‘THIS MAN CLAIMS TO SERVE GOD’ he cried to the Vikings. This seemed to spark a different response. Instead of a roar of laughter, the Vikings responded in anger, grunting and yelling. The King walked toward Aefentid, reaching into his shirt, and pulling out a bejewelled crucifix tied to his neck. I could swear his eyes popped out of his skull at the thought of Christian Vikings. The King chuckled at Aefentid. ‘KING ÆTHELRED WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS’ he cried.

At his threat, his attention was captured by everyone in the room, even Leif Erikson directed his gaze toward the bound man. ‘Æthelred’ The Viking King repeated, lowering his gaze to look directly into his prisoner's eyes. ‘What did he say child?’ His voice called, not breaking contact with Aefentid as they stared at one another. ‘H..he says the King will seek justice…’ I stuttered out. ‘FILTHY LITTLE VIKING BITCH’ Elder Aefentid cried, leaning to the side in order to catch my gaze, making sure his words penetrated my very soul. The Viking King turned around, all eyes in the room now directed at me as I sat on the ground in the middle of the room. ‘And?’ The Viking King questioned, his hands gesturing toward me. ‘He is displeased with me’ I whispered.

The Viking King simply nodded, standing back up to his tall figure, grasping the rope from the ground, and shoving it violently back into Elder Aefentid’s mouth. ‘While I am displeased myself…’ he spoke, directing his gaze between Leif and me, his disappointment more directed at Leif. ‘Your speaking our language is very….opportune’ he said, scheming as he spoke. I could see out the corner of my eye Leif’s chest rise and fall deeply, whether it was out of relief or frustration I didn’t know. ‘Your life will be spared for now, you will spend your days helping me …refine my knowledge of the saxon language’ he said, wiggling his finger satisfied with his cunning plan. ‘But if you should be unsuccessful, or deceitful, you will suffer a fate worse than death’. His plan struck me to my core, I was a farmer's daughter, now a postulant, now a teacher to a Viking King. Which of the three was worse, I couldn’t be sure, but I was terrified at the thought of spending my days alone with the Viking King. Elder Aefentid continued to scream profanities and muffled screams at the occupants of the room, but his cries went unnoticed by the Vikings as they busied themselves. Behind the throne, out of nowhere, he appeared again. The hooded figure stood solemnly beside the throne, unnoticed to everyone else, nodding his head at me.

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A new beginning had dawned on the Monastery. I was so used to silence, that even the sounds of people talking outside in the corridor put me on edge. I had not seen any of the sisters or brothers since Elder Aefentid sat in his mighty chair, only he was puny.

I spent the days confined to my tiny windowless room. When the King demanded it, I was escorted to the Monks Library where the King required me to translate words, and passages and teach him to communicate in the Saxon language. So far, it had been fine, but The Viking King, Canute, made sure I knew what was at stake. He was always armed and made it known he had no issues punishing his property. I was still a servant, a prisoner, the only thing different being the man who demanded everything.

It seemed an age the since the Vikings had first come. Some days it seemed there were more, other days less. The Viking’s clearly weren’t here for a sabbatical, nor to raid. The Monastery seemed however, a convenient stop in their greater plans. As time went on, their faces became more familiar. Sometimes they’d leave as a group for days, others would go individually. Leif Erikson seemed to have disappeared altogether…

While King Canute had demanded I help him refine his knowledge of the Saxon language, from our first private meeting it seemed clear that he didn’t really need all that much help. His intention was unclear, but there was something sinister about his presence as if he were probing for something more valuable than language. As each session went by, the King was more curious about concerns of the Monastery, the fields around, and why nobody else seemed to live anywhere near here…how often travellers came through. I spent more time answering questions than I did teaching him anything.

The King sat concentrating as he studied the symbols and texts of parchment that the Monks spent their days so delicately scribing.

‘Tell me child, what is the relationship between your leader and King ÆTthelred?’ He asked cautiously. ‘I don’t know, the sisters aren’t allowed to converse with the brothers’ I muttered. The King turned around, coming back to sit at the grand table in the middle of the library. ‘What is your connection with the Saxon King?’ He probed. I almost wanted to chuckle at the absurdity of his question. ‘I don’t understand?’ I whispered, my shoulders tensing as his nostrils flared in an unsatisfied manner. ‘I mean, do you work for the King?’ He said, reaching his hand across the table, clutching my wrist and squeezing it tightly. I could feel the blood flow to my wrist stop, my wrist turning pale under Canute’s clutch. ‘He comes here for communion and spiritual cleansing occasionally…only the Monks have been in his presence’. His grip loosened, but the clutch on my wrist remained. ‘The Queen comes sometimes too, but only Mother Brynhorn is permitted to speak with her’ I exclaimed. ‘Who is his Queen?’ He questioned, his grip tightening again, cramping my hand. My fingers curled into themselves, rigid and stiff at the pain. ‘Queen Emma of Normandy’ I seethed out in pain between clenched teeth.

His grip released as he smiled pleasingly to himself. ‘Normandy was founded by Vikings, did you know?’ He said more as a statement rather than a question. I shook my head. The truth was, I did know this as Elder Aefentid had cast cruel words at the Queen, but keeping this information withheld was likely to stop more questions and threats from King Canute. The King shot up from his seat, pushing the chair across the room behind him.

The door slightly opened, and a familiar face crept in. As our gazes connected, it was evident the shock upon my face, as his at mine. Since the grand hall, Leif Erikson had seemingly disappeared. Our concentrated stares were broken by Canute rising from his seat at the table. I stood to attention as the King’s chair scooted against the floor with a loud scrape.

‘Ah, Leif Erikson, just in time, please take the prisoner back to her room’.

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Leif Erikson spared no mercy in escorting me back to my small room. His hand clutched my arm as he strode two paces ahead of me as he walked down the corridor, dragging me alongside him. He constantly clutched the hilt of the axe on his belt.

When we arrived at the boarding wing, Leif roughly opened the door, taking a look around to see the Vikings still watching him. He thrust me forward, shoving me onto the lumpy mattress. A few of the Vikings stood watching, chuckling to themselves as they prompted his vulgarity. ‘Good luck with that one Greenlander’ they called, lifting their goblets in a cheers motion, throwing a surreptitious suggestive wink in his direction. I could feel my heart beating fast, their euphemism did not escape me. The Greenlander nodded his head, stepping into the room cautiously, and closing the door behind him.

I scurried back on my hands, retreating into the corner of the room, clutching the bottom of my skirt so as to somehow create an extra layer between us. Leif took a deep breath, his eyes glancing up and down at me. His eyes captured mine, but his face showed no emotion. I could feel my body shake. He gently reached down, undoing the belt that sat around his waist, loosening it, and untying it slowly string by string until it came off. ‘P…please no….I….I….I’ve never’ I stammered. He lifted his eyebrow quizzically. As he took a step forward, I let out a yelp, closed my eyes, and cradled myself in a protective state. The end of the bed dipped as he sat down on the edge, he let out a loud sigh as a rustling noise emitted. I sat there, cradled into myself waiting for him to pounce, lay his hands on me, or even say something. But it was just silence.

His hair was tasselled and knotted, coming out of the bun I remembered it had been in before. His face was smeared with dried mud that cracked on his forehead, indicating a level of stress as his brows creased. His clothes were uncomfortably damp, chafing against his body. His gaze locked to the floor, seemingly defeated, yet relieved at the same time.

We sat silently, I sat there looking at him trying to piece the puzzle together of how he ended up in such a state. It had been weeks since I had seen the Greenlander, as Canute constantly referred to him as. He sat there, his elbows leaning on his legs, sitting there, solemnly content in the silence. ‘Leif’ I whispered, being careful not to move nor startle him as he sat silently in a meditative state. He let out a grunt, shaking his head slowly as if to say please.

‘I wouldn’t do that to you’ he whispered, wiping his sleeve across his nose as his neck dropped further down.

He sat in silence for longer, the room becoming darker as the sun set outside. I gently got up from the bed, circling in front of him, kneeling on the floor between his legs. Up close, his face was one of utter exhaust. His eyelids dropped as he tried to hold his eyes open. He could barely acknowledge my presence as he sat there, his body swaying as if it were about to buckle beneath him. I gently reached up to the collar of his damp coat, gently untying the strings, trailing down his chest until the fasteners were undone. He sat there rigidly, not saying a word, not making a move. I gently ran my palms under the fabric of the coat, my hands pressed against his solid, large shoulders. I pushed against them, almost revelling in the feeling of the sheer tightness of his skin. I ran my palms down his arms, sliding the coat off his body, gently peeling it from him. His shirt underneath, although still intact, was ripped and muddied. Whatever activity Leif Erikson had been up to, it wasn’t a leisurely trip. His arms limply fell from their resting place on his thighs as he allowed me to slide the wet coat off his arms, freeing him from the constricting material. His chin tilted only slightly, enough for our gaze to connect again through his drooping eyelids.

Nothing needed to be said though, his exhaustion was clear. I gently grasped onto his shoulders again, pushing him down into a laying position on the mattress. He let out a gentle sigh of relief, grateful for even the comfort of the world's lumpiest old mattress. I grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed, draping it carefully over his body.

By the time the blanket had draped over him, Leif Erikson was solemn in slumber.

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‘Y/N you’re sick, you need help’ my mother pleaded with teary eyes.

‘You promised it wouldn’t come to this, you swore we’d never tell’ I screamed back, scuttling along the floor and gazing up and my mother in fear.

‘I couldn’t keep it from him, he saw you, this is the best thing for you’ she breathlessly exclaimed, crawling toward me pleading.

‘It’s time to go Y/N’ My father sounded from the other end of the room sternly.

‘Please…Please don’t do this, it doesn’t need to be like this’ I screamed. But he stood there, firmly in place, firm in his hand, firm in his decision.

‘They are already here Y/N, you are going’ he said sternly, stiff in his body language as if to say this conversation was annoying more than anything.

I could feel my head hit the back of the wall, there being nowhere else to escape to.

‘She’s in here Father’ he called, turning around to greet those once strange eyes, but now so familiar. ‘Elder Aefentid, we are so grateful, our daughter needs more help than we can give her’. My father's tone changed so matter of factly as if he were a helpless man trying so hard to help his daughter. I couldn’t help but feel this was all too convenient for him. In his clutches, Elder Aefentid stood in the room, a bible in his clutch, a crucifix held firmly in his grasp.

‘Do you see him now child?’ Elder Aefentid questioned as he cautiously tip-toed into the room. Of course, I could, he hadn’t left all day, only stood there warning me that my fate was to unfold. I shook my head ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about father…’ I whispered through teary cries.

‘DO YOU SEE HIM NOW CHILD?’ He screamed.

‘Y/N’

I bolted up with a scream. I could feel my limbs unstick from one another as the feeling of cold sweat engulfed my body. The room was black, the floor cold beneath me, the only break of light coming from a single candle. The orange hue gently lit the face of Leif as he sat on the bed, his eyes full of unease.

‘You were yelling’ he said matter of factly, his tone clearly masking confusion. ‘I wasn’t yelling?’ I said questioningly, but I had known this to happen before. ‘You were yelling’ he said again in a much calmer tone, the light flickering in front of his face. I took in a deep breath, taking in every crevice of his face, the way his jaw chiselled, tensing and relaxing as his throat bobbled as he took in a deep gulp. I nodded curtly, as if to say I know, but I don’t want to know.

Leif sat on the bed, his legs over the side as he sat at the head of the bed. ‘How did I get here?’ He solemnly questioned, grazing his fingers over the mattress as the blanket lay gently across his lap. ‘You tell me, you were awfully tired’ I whispered back, shrugging my shoulders as he looked down at my place on the floor. There was something intense about his gaze, the way his eyes flickered up and down my body, a sense of curiosity and uncertainty as we sat between the flickering of orange. It was improper for me to be alone in here with him, but knowing there were plenty more Vikings on the other side of the door, I can’t lie in saying I wasn’t grateful for Leif’s presence.

His demeanour changed as he directed his gaze back to the floor, uncomfortable with the obvious query that loomed over us both. Where had Leif Erikson been all this time? Whether the details really mattered, but why he had come back, that was the mystery.

‘I will leave’ he whispered gingerly, slowly playing with the loose thread of the blanket that draped over him. His movements were slow, unwilling. When he rose from the bed his knees cracked beneath him, a gentle seethe of pain emitted from his teeth. ‘You’re hurt’ I breathed, getting up abruptly to steady his frame as his legs slightly wobbled beneath him. ‘I am fine’ he said as he stiffly straightened his rigid back, that cracking as well. ‘Just stay’ I whispered abruptly as I grabbed onto his biceps. As I stood there, only the smallest gap between us, his body towered over mine, his head dropped naturally as I looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes flickered, as mine did his. An eeriness of caution, waiting for the other to do something. But one thing was clear, I wasn’t willing to move, nor was he. ‘I um…’ I stuttered, as my fingers seemed to linger onto his skin much longer than was friendly.

*SLAM*

My palm flew to my face as I let out a shriek, my body jumping in fright at the sound of a pound against the door. Leif Erikson didn’t seem to even startle. My hands flew from him as I took a step away. The murmur of slurred singing in old norse could be heard as metal clanged against one another. Leif strode toward the door, poking his head out as I silently shook in my shoes, awaiting whatever the Vikings were doing. He silently closed the door, pressing a finger to his lips as he turned toward me. ‘Too much mead tends to bring out the lively side of Vikings’ he whispered in amusement. His smile seemed suppressed as he let out a long breath through his nostrils. I smiled back gently, tilting my lips just enough to show I appreciated his attempt at humour in my state of scare.

‘Maybe I should…’ he trailed. I simply nodded. ‘I would appreciate it’ I said. Leif quietly untied the fasteners of his belt, letting the tight fabric fall to the floor. I gently sat down at the end of the bed as he uncertainly took a seat at its head. The light flickered in the pitch-black room, only offering glimpses of one another.

I could feel a tingle deep within my stomach. My brain was telling me all the things I should know. This is improper, this is immoral, this is a disaster waiting to happen, and God will punish me. But something deep within my body shook, an urge I couldn’t shake. Like a roaring fire in my stomach that set my heart alight. I could feel the rhythmic pounding of my heartbeat turn to pulsate so strongly that radiated down my torso all the way down to my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, a poor attempt to suppress that pulsated between my legs. I could sense a tenseness as the blanket shifted beneath me. I glanced down to find Leif’s fingers nervously digging into the bed. My body involuntarily shivered as if something shot down my spine. ‘You are cold?’ He whispered, breaking the tense silence that encapsulated the room. ‘A little’ I whispered back, digging into the blanket with my fingers. Leif reached down to the ground and grabbed his coat, only to let out a dissatisfied breath. ‘It’s still wet sorry’ he said defeatedly.

The room retreated into silence again, the only sound emitting being a gentle sizzle of the flame as it burnt the candle. The feeling of desire was uncomfortable, but the obvious silence of awkwardness was unbearable. I gently grabbed the blanket from Leif’s side, draping it over both our laps as a symbol of peace. Leif seemed taken aback but relieved at the notion of not having to sleep on the floor.

The mattress was thin, our arms and legs pressed against one another tightly as the width of our bodies overcrowded the tiny bed. I could hear Leif breathing, as he could probably hear mine. Just as short and nervous as each other.

‘There is no need for any more nightmares Y/N…nobody is here but us’ he solemnly whispered. I could feel the tears prickling in my eyes. The sincerity in his voice had a gentle shake to it as if he was nervous but his desire to say it was more important than the thought of making a fool of himself. It was as if another entity had taken over my body, without thought, fear, or contemplation I felt my hand reaching down beneath the blanket, scuttling underneath the surface blindly until my fingers finally found what they were looking for.

As cautiously as my shaking fingers were, our fingers entwined loosely, as if neither of us was certain that this was okay or not. But even in their loose entwined grip, neither of our hands moved until sleep took over.

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#vikings x reader #vikings valhalla #vikings imagine #vikings #leif x reader #leif eriksson

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bumblesimagines · 4 months ago

Text

Under The Moonlight

Part 17

Request: Yes or No

Summary: (Y/N) and Harald only continue to make things more complicated for themselves. After returning to Constantinople, (Y/N) is forced to say goodbye to his brother for the first time.

CW/TW: Mention of the deaths of innocents, situationships situationshipping, suggestive content, normal relationship? don't know her, implied homophobia, religion bashing + the violent love of Christianity, healthy sibling relationships rise up

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Silence hung over them like a heavy cloud, the words they wished to speak dying in their throats in favor of staying quiet and letting the moment pass. Tiring and infuriating, it was, but winning a death match against an experienced ruler was quite the feat. (Y/N)'s brief flash of anger had disappeared the moment the fight began, leaving him simply with familiar numbness and exhaustion, his attention focused on cleaning the cut Harald had sustained on his arm instead of picking up their argument again.

Harald winced and withheld the urge to flinch each time the needle entered his skin, his gaze flickering between watching the cut be sown and studying (Y/N)'s face. Years of patching up injuries had turned him into a swift healer, his hands nimble and gentle as they finished sewing his cut. His bloodied fingers picked up the rag floating in the basin beside them and carefully dabbed it along his skin, cleaning any blood that'd seeped out before taking the bandages offered to him by one of the servants.

"Thank you." (Y/N) murmured, tearing his eyes away from the injury and toward the tent's entrance when Emperor Romanos stepped inside, freshly changed into his armor and ready for the journey back home to the heart of his empire. He raised his hand to stop them both from standing, giving (Y/N) a small nod to continue working before he looked back at Harald and offered him a wide smile.

"I'm glad to see you're recovering." He said, striding closer to them and raising a hand to touch Harald's shoulder. "Harald, I am under no illusion that your heart is still in the North. That you fought for the Empire on my behalf... will not be forgotten."

"I was honored by your trust in me," Harald responded, and (Y/N) resisted the urge to sigh. He wrapped the cut quickly yet carefully before tying a knot to ensure the bandages would slip and risk the injury growing infected. He stepped back, drawing the eyes of both men who watched him as he cleaned his hands, his head bowed and disinterest in their conversation evident.

"A deserved trust." The Emperor said, a hint of amusement and knowing lacing his voice. He squeezed Harald's shoulder with a quiet chuckle and left the tent to mount his readied horse. They'd be allowed two to three days to recover from battle and gather supplies and treasures from the castle before following him to Constantinople.

"If you feel as if your injury is worsening," (Y/N) cleared his throat to catch Harald's attention. "Speak with a healer." He told him bluntly and slipped past him, leaving the tent and walking past the Emperor and General Maniakes whilst they spoke of what was to be done. He caught the General's eye, noticing the slight curl of his lip and rolling his eyes once Maniakes couldn't see his face.

The camp seemed to bustle with more life, most having already entered the castle to take whatever they could find. Leif had likely been among them, for he'd been eager to arrive after learning of a library holding ancient texts and books. (Y/N) would hardly find himself surprised if the next time he saw his brother he had a sack full of books and maps to be placed in his already cluttered home. He had little interest in the treasures and knowledge; Leif had already taught him more than enough and he hardly needed treasure to live happily. Greenlanders lived through trade, rarely ever finding themselves in need of coin.

Slipping into his tent, (Y/N) crouched down by his luggage full of clothes and sorted through it until he found a clean shirt to wear for the rest of the day. It'd likely grow dirtied and grimy by the time night fell but he preferred walking around with a clean shirt over a bloodied one. He reached back and slipped off the shirt, tossing it aside and standing back up with the new one in hand. He stuck his arms and head through the holes and let it slip over his body, his ears catching the rustling of the tent flaps and footsteps entering.

"We should talk."

"Then talk, Harald." (Y/N) sighed and turned to face him, his arms folding over his stomach and brow arching for him to speak. Harald's lips pursed, glancing over his shoulder and stepping fully into the tent toward him once certain nobody would be interrupting them. (Y/N) straightened up when he drew closer and Harald stopped, a deep frown spreading on his face.

"How much longer are you going to do this, (Y/N)? Three years ago you claimed it would be for the best if we were no longer lovers and I told you I'd prove myself to be capable of everything you wished for. I have showered you with my treasures, I ensure you have everything you can desire, I stand by while you bring others to your bed. I am a General for the Empire and with all the riches I've sent my uncle, I know I am more than wealthy. What else must I do?" Harald's hardened voice softened, his steps slow as he approached, almost as if dealing with an animal that could lash out at any moment.

"I never asked for any of that." (Y/N) reminded him softly, and allowed him closer with little complaint. Harald's hands found their way onto his hips, squeezing lightly and pulling him closer to him. (Y/N) turned his head away to avoid looking into Harald's soft eyes, for he knew it'd make it harder to keep to his wits if he dared look at his face.

"It is torture, (Y/N). You reject my advances yet accept the advances of others. You allow me to sleep in your bed some nights but refuse to other nights. I will not be able to take this for much longer. I... I don't know how you feel about me anymore." His hand rose to gently grab his face, turning his head so he'd be forced to look him in the eyes. (Y/N) pressed his lips tightly together and looked at the storm of emotions in his eyes, similar emotions he felt swirling in his gut. "I love you, (Y/N). I've loved you since the moment I witnessed your abilities and the care you have for those close to you. You have fascinated me for years, ever since the day I first laid eyes on you on that boat in Kattegat. I need you. My heart, my mind, my soul, my blood, it all longs for you."

"I want to believe you, Harald, but each time I allow myself to trust you.. you only do what you desire. I am simply living my life, and it seems that I suffer the least when you are not consuming me. I have my own home, my own things, I have new friends and- and yes, I have lovers but it is only because I am no longer waiting for you to change. I care for them.. and I know that if I were to ask, at least one of them would be willing to do what you refuse to. I'm happy, Harald."

The dreaded silence returned, leaving them to stare into each other's eyes. Harald leaned forward to press their foreheads together, his calloused thumb running back and forth over his cheek and his nose gently bumping against (Y/N)'s. He inhaled heavily. "We were happy once, back in Kattegat... in the cabin. We fight most when we live apart, (Y/N)... when we refuse to speak our minds. We were supposed to spend our time in Constantinople together. I want us to be happy again, together. We can go back to those times, back to what we once were. Allow me back in, (Y/N), and we can be happy together, I swear it."

"Harald..." (Y/N) exhaled, his arms unfolding and allowing Harald to press their chests firmly together. His fingers ran through the soft curls along the back of his head, his other hand resting on the prince's shoulder and lightly squeezing him. He felt the familiar feeling of Harald's breath dancing along his skin, a familiar desire bubbling in the pit of his stomach that he often tried pushing away. Harald's hands slipped down to grasp his hips again, squeezing once more and tugging him as close as possible.

His fingers curved around the bottom of (Y/N)'s shirt and slipped under, dragging along his back and dancing over old scars until his palm pressed flat against him and he closed the distance. His lips pressed against (Y/N) and sent a shot of familiarity and longing down his spine that made (Y/N) push on Harald's head to be as close as possible. Harald's touch roamed under his shirt until he leaned down slightly to scoop his thighs in his hands and heave him up, a startled and muffled laugh leaving (Y/N). His parted lips allowed for Harald's tongue to dart between them and get him reacquainted with every inch of him as Harald's hefty legs led them toward (Y/N)'s bed.

Harald plopped back on the bed, settling (Y/N) on his lap and bunching up his shirt in his hands. (Y/N) drew back for air and tilted his head back, shivering when Harald ghosted his lips over his throat until he found the spot he knew made (Y/N)'s breath hitch and lightly sunk his teeth into it. (Y/N) released a strangled groan and curled his fingers in Harald's hair, his arm sliding around his shoulders and lips leaving scattered kisses along the top of his head.

Right as Harald went to lift (Y/N)'s shirt, the ground abruptly trembled with the sound of a distant explosion that made them both go still. The camp around them came to life with panicked and confused shouts, quiet panting escaping the two as they waited for more noise but nothing came. (Y/N) swallowed, his brows dipping into a furrow and hands pushing Harald's shoulders back.

"Seems like the Gods have spoken," He muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and scrambling off Harald's lap before he could stand and knock him over. (Y/N) adjusted his shirt, tucking it into his pants before tossing apart the flaps of the tent and turning to look toward the fortress where a dark cloud of smoke rose from within the walls. His head snapped to look around him, searching those standing around for any sign of General Maniakes. The man was nowhere in sight.

"Get us our horses!" Harald shouted toward the nearest Varangian, his eyes locked on the smoke rapidly rising toward the clouds above and waiting for any signs of other explosions. (Y/N) swore he could pick up the faint sound of screaming and wailing in the distance but nobody ran from the fortress in fear.

The Varangian solider sped off further into camp and returned with their two horses, handing them the reins and staggering back as the two climbed onto their respective mounts. The horses galloped forward the fortress at their commands, dodging past those standing around camp and heading up the trail toward the open gates. They skidded to a stop inside where the two spotted Leif being held back by General Maniake's men, a furious sneer on his face.

"How could you do this?!" Leif demanded with a shout, struggling against the soldiers surrounding him and holding him with the ferocity of a Viking. "Women and children!"

"Our enemy." The lack of remorse or even sympathy in General Maniakes' voice sent a chill down (Y/N)'s spine, only pure venom dripping from the tongue of the man who'd been all too eager to go forth with a religious war. (Y/N) noticed the catapults nearby, the residue of sulfur littered around them, and with barely contained horror, his eyes dragged over to the section of the fortress that'd been gated shut, the sickly smell of burning flesh mixing with the stench of the sulfur.

"The Emperor gave his word!" Harald bristled, his knuckles turning white from the grip he held on the reins as he came to the same startling and horrifying realization. Maniakes looked at him over his shoulder, his lips curled up into a twisted sadistic smirk. (Y/N) had only ever seen the General show little emotion, his eyes almost always holding anger or malice.

"To a dead man." He turned to face them. "Saracens are like vermin. If you do not destroy them, they will multiply and spread, and soon wipe out Christianity. I did what the Emperor could not."

"You murdered them!" Leif spat viciously.

"No, Leif Eriksson," General Maniakes smirk only widened as he faced Leif and walked up to him, raising his sulfur-covered fingers up to his face. Leif swallowed thickly. "You did. It was your science that was the weapon. Your imagination did this. I... was just the messenger."

With that, General Maniakes stepped away, stalking off with his soldiers right at his heels. The anger in Leif's body vanished, his shoulders slumping and chest heaving as a look of resignation, defeat, and realization passed over his face at once. The light that'd been in his body for so many years had been swiftly extinguished with just a few words. (Y/N) could only watch hopelessly.

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

The streets of Constantinople had been filled to the brim with residents and travelers welcoming back the armies and congratulating them on their success with cheers, whistles, claps, and music. They stood at the sidelines as the two Generals led their armies through the street with their heads held high with pride. They'd both been given new armor with a lion as the crest; the beginning of their rewards for succeeding in Sicily. (Y/N) followed behind Harald's horse, surrounded by his friends and brother in the march to meet the Emperor and Empress who eagerly awaited their arrival.

(Y/N) snorted when a woman broke away from the crowd to race up to Batu, her hands grasping the sides of his face and mushing their lips together for a messy kiss. Dorn immediately scowled and tore the woman away from him, shoving her roughly back into the crowd before throwing a half-hearted punch at the bewildered Batu's arm. Kaysan cackled and held a hand to his stomach, staggering forward to clap Batu's shoulder and tease them.

"Keep going," Leif said into his ear, patting his shoulder before he stepped out of the march and into the crowd near an alleyway. (Y/N) slowed down his pace and frowned at the sight of his brother disappearing through the crowd, his heartstrings tugging violently but his feet continuing to walk forward. Leif needed his space, he wouldn't rid him of that.

The armies eventually broke off into two sections once they reached the outer yard of the palace, one side for General Maniake's men and another for General Harald's men. The two generals stepped onto a wooden podium decorated with vines and flowers, the chaos and music around them dying down so the priest who stood on the balcony overlooking them could speak.

"Pantodýnama Kyverníti, órise aftoús tous stratiótes stous Agíous Sou Angélous, fýlaxé tous me ti dýnamí Sou kai krátisé tous ypó tin prostasía Sou. Amen!" Almighty Ruler, assign these soldiers to Your Holy Angels, guard them with Your strength, and keep them under Your protection. Even if living in Constaniople hadn't been his first choice, he'd been able to learn a new language with the help of Leif. Those in the crowd who practiced the faith bowed their heads and made a cross with their fingers before erupting into cheers at the sight of Emperor Romanos.

Raising his hand, he waited for the cheering to cease before speaking, "Today, we welcome back our beloved army.. and celebrate their overwhelming victory in Sicily! The victory of your sons, sons of the mightiest people in the world, the people of Constantinople; an Empire that stretches from the Alps to Asia!" He raised his arms and the crowd cheered, a wide smile on his face. "And now, I present my wife, the Empress Zoe."

Over the past seven years, (Y/N) had watched her transform from Lady Eleana to Empress Zoe of Constantinople. She'd seemingly fallen into the role of the empress with little trouble, managing to exude an aura of grace and regalness as she strode up to take her place beside her husband. She smiled, looking between her two loyal Generals. Married life suited her well, and the Emperor always seemed to regard her with much respect and love. Yet still, her eyes glided over to him and then jumped back to the two men.

"Georgios Maniakes.. and Harald Sigurdsson, you are true sons of Constantinople, and we are in your debt. As a reward for your triumphant actions in Sicily, we bestow upon you the title, Spatharokandidatos, the highest honor of an Imperial Warrior, a status signified by your new armor. Behold your heroes!" At her words, the cheering resumed and the two turned around to face their armies and show off the new armor, and their new status.

As expected, within the palace was a feast and more celebrations for the army and especially for those close to the Generals. Music played throughout the halls and many danced, cheering and celebrating another win. (Y/N) merely watched as he grazed on the food available, snacking on the various fruits and taking small sips of the wine being offered around. Batu, Dorn, and Kaysan chatted amongst themselves, laughing and exchanging antidotes. (Y/N) listened, chuckling or nodding along until a hand delicately, and briefly, touched his arm.

"Empress," The three ceased their chatter yet still held wide smiles as they bowed their heads. (Y/N) finished his wine and set it aside before turning around to face Empress Zoe and dipping his head as well. Her smile widened, shifting away from polite to genuine as her eyes softened. Rare were the times they could all be together and chat as they once did.

"It is good to see you all." She admitted softly, glancing around in search of the missing men before she looked at (Y/N) with furrowed brows. "Where is Leif?"

"He was tired when we arrived. I assume he's gone home to rest for the day."

"Ah, well, tell him I miss him, and I am glad he still plots his own course instead of doing what others want." Empress Zoe told him, a gentle chuckle escaping her. Her light blue eyes studied his features, her earrings swaying with the movements of her crowned head. The others exchanged glances and dipped their heads again, slipping away to leave them be with quiet chuckles and whispers. "I am glad to see you, (Y/N). It has been much time since we last spoke. I don't believe I ever thanked you for looking out for me on our voyage here. It seems like so long ago, but I remember the good times we all had."

"Yes, the others often speak of those times." (Y/N) smiled, lightly clearing his throat and glancing over his shoulder at his friends. He hardly wished to be left alone with Empress Zoe, especially with the Emperor's keen eye watching them from his throne. He licked his lips and looked back at her, gazing over the long, beautiful gown she wore. It was a shimmery dark blue with golden designs in the shapes of features along her chest, shoulders, and neck that were similar to the crown on her head. "Marriage and ruling becomes you, Zoe."

"Thank you." She smiled bashfully, her fingers lacing together and her eyes glittering with joy. "I do regret not being able to see you on the battlefield anymore, it's always been where you shine best. Though, if you perhaps would prefer staying home, I could always speak with my husband on finding a different job for you."

"Oh, I-"

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to take away one of my finest warriors, Empress. I often require his advice on many things." Harald's voice cut in, light and teasing but with an undertone only (Y/N) seemed to pick up. Jealously, as it seemed, appeared to be an emotion Harald had become aquantainted with. He stopped at his side and took a swing of the wine in hand, his eyes holding Empress Zoe's gaze as he set his cup aside.

"Spatharokandidatos," She greeted, her head slightly tilting to the side. "I must know, with all your victories, do you still wish to return to Norway and be king?"

"My desires have never wavered, Empress. I still believe it is my destiny, even if others do not." Harald's gaze slid over to (Y/N), his words bringing a deadpan look to (Y/N)'s face. He rolled his eyes and picked up another cup of wine from one of the passing trays, squinting at the grin that spread on Harald's lips. "Though, I believe some destinies can change over time and with certain circumstances."

"I see." Empress Zoe hummed and stepped back, her gown sliding along the floor with each stride she took until she slipped out of view. (Y/N) swallowed down a gulp of wine that burned his throat, his lips no doubt stained from the drinks he'd had throughout the celebration, and he turned to look at Harald only to notice some palace guards approaching.

"Spatharokandidatos, you must come with us." One of them ordered, and (Y/N) heart sank when Harald furrowed his brows in confusion. He gave a curt nod and glanced at (Y/N) and the others before being escorted out of the room. (Y/N) stared after him, his fingers anxiously digging and rubbing into the designs on his cup.

Unable to provide the others with answers and finding little to distract himself with, (Y/N) excused himself and left the palace, making his way out into the bright, bustling streets of Constantinople. He reached to his shoulders and unclipped the blue cape from his armor to avoid drawing attention from others as he walked through the streets, entering through alleyways and stepping up countless staircases until he reached the street his home resided on.

(Y/N) pushed the gate open and walked down the pathway until he spotted the stone house perched on a hill overlooking the glimmering ocean; though it was hardly anything in comparison to Leif's home and Harald's estate. He immediately felt at peace away from the noise and hustle of city life, stepping through the wooden doors and finding his belongings sitting on the floor. Ridding himself of the cape and armor and changing into more comfortable clothing, he began putting everything away back where it belonged with the scent of the salty ocean breeze flowing in and clinging to his skin once more.

With his home taken care of, he decided to check on his brother and took the stone trail leading to Mariam's old place. The subtle smell of smoke and fire filled his nose as he ascended the stairs, taking note of the lit fire pit bowl and the contents slowly burning inside. He moved closer and reached in, pinching and pulling out a piece of paper before the flames could lick at his hand. He gently blew on it and brought it close to his face, faintly making out words written in Arabic.

"I have no use for these any longer." The exhaustion in Leif's voice made him wince and he watched with a frown as Leif tossed in scrolls, journals, and papers, the fire eagerly eating and burning them. "This knowledge, the writings... it all led to the destruction of innocents."

"Leif, everything can be destructive if wielded by the wrong person. Weapons, knowledge, kingdoms... Maniake's actions are not on you. You cannot let him get into your mind. He is merely another Jarl Kåre eager to hurt what you believe in." (Y/N) crumbled the paper in his hands and followed his brother into the home that so comfortingly felt like a living part of Mariam. "Do you truly believe he wouldn't have hurt those people? He wanted this, Leif. It was all part of his religious war on those opposed to Christianity."

"And if I had been more careful with my things, then perhaps he wouldn't have taken notice and used it against me," Leif responded, sharply turning to face his brother and grabbing his shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving him. "Seeing those innocents die... seeing them burn alive made me think of all we've done. The places we've conquered that did not surrender easily, the people we've slaughtered fighting other men's wars... for what? The first war we fought was for Freydis, and then what of the others? For glory? For rewards? Blood needlessly spilled... I cannot bear it."

(Y/N) stared at him, his brows slowly lowering and his frown only growing. "You're leaving... aren't you?" His voice sounded soft, like that of a child's and he swallowed harshly, his heart squeezing. Leif's shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands from (Y/N)'s shoulders, his lips pressing together as he gave a small nod of confirmation. "Oh." He breathed shakily.

"I know it is not what you wish to hear, (Y/N), and I won't ask you to follow me again. You have made a home here in Constantinople and I cannot ask you to abandon it for me. I have... found that knowledge, even when I wished to use it for good, only seems to destroy things. In my thirst for knowledge, I hardly stopped to think of the people who lost their homes because of us. I don't want to bloody my hands any further."

Tears pricked the back of his eyes and he forced out a hum, nodding slowly. "Where- Where will you go? If you are returning to Greenland-"

"No, no, not Greenland." Leif shook his head and stepped aside, retrieving his satchel from the floor and dumping the contents inside over the table. He sorted through them until he found a rolled-up paper, spreading it out against the table. (Y/N) shifted closer and peered down at it, blinking dumbfoundedly at what he assumed to be a drawing. Largely made of blue with white lines and two muted yellow shapes on opposite sides. "I found this in the library in the Book of the Unknown. Nobody knows what it is supposed to be or who made it, only that its origins trace back to Corfu. I suspect that this-" He pointed to one of the shapes. "-is Greenland, and this land across is the Golden Land."

"The Golden Land? The land you believed you saw on that fishing trip? The one with the tall trees just over the horizon? Father said it was nothing, Leif."

"I know, I know, but if I can ask the creator of this map why he drew this or where this land is located, I could find it once more. It is why I plan on traveling to Corfu and asking the people there for their local mapmaker. He may know what this is or point me in the direction of who made it." Leif explained, rolling the paper back up and offering him a sad smile as he cupped his cheek. "I know it will be hard. I cannot imagine sailing without you, (Y/N), but sooner or later we would've had to part ways. I swear on the memory of Mariam and Liv, I will come back once I find my answers. Then, if this Golden Land really exists, we can go to Jomsborg and tell Freydis about it."

"I don't think I can manage without you, Leif." (Y/N) admitted softly, shakily. "I've always gone everywhere with you. I've always been your shoulder, your partner, your right hand. What if something happens? What if I need you and you're not here? Parting ways with Freydis and not knowing how she's been doing is hard enough but-"

"You will manage, (Y/N). You're stronger than you think. You've survived the cruelty of man and nature and still hold little hate in your heart. I know things have been hard between you and Harald, and I am hardly the right person to ask when it comes to love... but you can rely on him, if not as a lover then as a friend. Kaysan, Batu, Dorn... they need you and you need them. You'll take care of each other, I know you will." Leif assured him gently, leaning forward to press a fleeting kiss to his forehead. "You made a promise to your prince, and you've never been one to break a promise. If I do not come back in time and I hear of a new king being crowned in Norway, I'll know where to find you."

(Y/N) felt like a child again as the hot tears spilled over his cheeks and trickled off his chin, memories of his younger self weeping when Leif and the older boys went on fishing trips with the adults resurfacing. Simpler times then, when the only thing he cried over were his brother leaving or his father going on one of his angry tangents. He threw his arms around Leif and buried his face in his shoulder, his body lightly trembling with sobs.

"(Y/N)," Leif exhaled, a slight tremor in his voice that he swallowed down, his arms wrapping tightly around him in return. He caressed the back of (Y/N)'s head as he ran soothing circles along his back, a strained chuckle escaping him. "You know we'll always find each other. You, Freydis, and I... in this life and the next, and all the lives that follow, we'll always find each other. Remember that, Brother. Remember where you came from and- and who you are... remember who your family is. We are Vikings, no matter where we go."

"I know," (Y/N) sighed, sniffling as he drew back. He wiped at his wet cheeks, brushing away the tears and letting a small smile grace his features. Leif returned it, his eyes gleaming with tears that he managed to hold back. "I love you, Leif."

"And I'll always love you too, (Y/N)."

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hederasgarden · 5 months ago

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Other Characters/Fandoms Masterlist

House of the Dragon

Series

Sins of the Father (Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader | Mature | Ongoing Series)

When the Greens win the Dance of the Dragons, your father must answer for his support of Rhaenyra.

Oneshots

Bloodlust (Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader | Explicit | 1.8K)

After battle, Aemond visits your tent.

The Batman

Everyone’s a Secret (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader | Ongoing | Explicit)

It’s bad enough when your one night stand is later revealed to be the reclusive Bruce Wayne but your life gets infinitely more complicated when photos of that night make the front page news.

Mistakes Were Made (Bruce Wayne x F!Reader | Ongoing | Gen)

When you take the job as Bruce Wayne’s publicist, you’re prepared for some surprises but finding out he’s Batman isn’t one of them. The good news is you’re not fired. The bad news? Batman definitely needs some PR help.

Halo

Oneshots

Everything They Made Me (John 117 x Makee l Explicit l 1.7K)

How weak must she be that a simple kindness undoes her so? (A missing scene from episode 8.)

Moon Knight

Oneshots

Nothing Lasts But Light (Layla El-Faouly x Reader x Marc Spector l Explicit l 3.4K)

You love Layla enough to accept anything, even Marc.

Top Gun

Oneshots

A Lesson in Patience (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Explicit l 1.4K)

Your boyfriend wants to try something new.

Drabbles

Take a Seat (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Explicit | 845)

Rooster invites you to take a seat on his face.

His Goofy Girl (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader | Gen | 630)

You have an entertaining reaction to the anesthesia used for your wisdom tooth extraction, much to Rooster ‘s amusement and embarrassment.

Vikings Valhalla

Oneshots

New Beginnings (Harald Sigurdsson x F!Reader l Mature l Series on hiatus)

You are chosen to wed King Harald in order to cement the alliance between King Canute’s growing kingdom and Norway.

A Quiet Interlude (King Canute x F!Reader l Explicit l 1.2K)

After the death of Queen Ælfgifu, you become King Canute’s new wife.

Drabbles

Heartbeat (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Explicit l 874)

When your home is attacked, you see a different side of Leif.

Persistence (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Teen l 658)

Many men have come for your hand but Leif is the first you let into your heart.

The Rescue (Leif Eriksson x F!Reader l Gen l 431)

You hate frat parties but Harald’s new friend might just change your mind. (Modern AU)

Wicked Games (Godwin x OC l Explicit l 662)

The new Elderman of Wessex has met his match with Lady Aida.

♡Main Masterlist♡

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aikaterini-drag · 1 year ago

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Eternal bros 🩵 Harald and Leif, the dynamic duo that makes Vikings: Valhalla an epic saga of friendship and showcases the bonds that can be forged even amidst the chaos of war.

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miss-madness67 · 10 months ago

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Goodbye (Vikings Valhalla) Leif

He is about to leave Greenland without you.

“Do not leave,” I murmur against Leif’s lips. He sighs, but instead of answering me, he kisses me again with all the sweetness he can muster. Our mouths dance an unsteady rhythm, tongues clashing. Leif tastes like Spring and the sun coming out after months. “Leif, please,” I beg once again once he parts from me. Yet, I know it is all in vain. There is nothing I can do to convince him to stay in Greenland. Just like there is nothing he can say to make me go to Kattegat with him. It looks like this is where it ends after all that we have been through.

“I love you,” his sweet whisper takes my breath away. I love him too, but saying it out loud will only make all the more real the fact that we have to be apart. Instead, I return my lips to his. I truly admire the fact that he is determined to avenge his sister. However, that is not the life I wish for me. Leif, the love of my life, is to leave tomorrow with my heart beside his. The only thing I can do is wrap my arms around him and remember this moment for the rest of my existence.

#leif eriksson #angst #vikings valhalla fanfiction #vikings valhalla #leif x you #leif #leif eriksson x reader #vikings x reader #vikings valhalla fic #leif eriksson x you

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fangirlings-things · 2 years ago

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requested by anon || TAG LIST IS OPEN

"It is as I can feel every bone in my body turning into pure ice" you said as you shivered, all wrapped up in your furs and yet, feeling cold. So cold. The forest where you were laying seemed to have no mercy on you as the wind hit you hard in the face from minute to minute.

"Still cold?" Leif asked gently. He was sitting by the fire you had lighten up earlier. It warmed up a bit the air around it, but not nearly enough. Leif had even given you one of his furs a while before, but that had not been enough. As you nodded instantly at his question, he sighted in worry.

Without saying anything else Leif got up from his spot and then he was lying beside you, passing an arm around your body and pulling you close until your rested your head on his arm and had your face buried against the furs that covered his chest. He placed another of the furs upon both of your bodies. The only sound in the air was that of the wind and after not much time, you could already feel the difference of having Leif right there with you. The warmth was already making you shiver a lot less.

"Thank you, Leif" you murmured, eyes closed as now warm, you could relax enough so that all the exhaustion you felt came crashing into you. That kind of intimacy with him was not something you two shared, in fact that was the closest you had always been with him. And it felt too good.

"Sleep" he whispered softly, tightening the hold around you as if he wanted to pull you even closer.

As you drifted into sleep a bit after, you swore you could feel him place a gentle kiss at the top of your head.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #vikings valhalla imagine #vikings valhalla #vikings valhalla fanfic #leif eriksson #leif eriksson x reader #leif eriksson imagine

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emotionaldepravity · 2 years ago

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Gifting various FE characters Valentines Chocolate...

Leo

-Before you would even get the chance to present your gift, Leo would have realized your intentions.

“I hope I’m the only one you are offering that chocolate to. I’d hate to think I’d have to share your affections with someone else.”

-If you can manage to give him the chocolate without becoming too flustered he takes it happily.

“I have gotten you something as well, [Y/N]. Please from the bottom of my heart, I hope it brings you as much joy as you bring me.”

Askr

-Askr would be so excited to be offered any gift, but from you in particular he is very pleased.

“A tribute? Thank you mortal! I am so happy that you would involve me in your Valentine’s ritual!”

-Never having chocolate before, he excitedly tries one. His smile grows and gets somehow brighter after he eats the first piece.

“Here why don’t you eat one as well! You worked so hard on them so we should enjoy the fruits of your labor together [Y/N]!”

Tana

-Tana would be extremely flustered.

“For me? Oh wow! Thank you [Y/N]. I’ll cherish this forever!”

-She extends her own handmade chocolates to you. The packaging is extra fancy and regal looking.

“I was hoping I’d get to give you mine first, but you beat me to it. I promise next year I’ll be first!”

Tharja

-Tharja would look quite skeptical of the chocolates in your hand.

“Did you curse them? I know would have if I were you. Why don’t you try one first?”

-Instead of letting you grab one yourself, she shoves a piece chocolate in your mouth. After a minute where nothing happens she decides to reply and offers, a bag of chocolates for you.

“I guess they were safe to eat after all. Huh. And here I put a love potion in yours just to be sure you only had eyes for me, [Y/N].”

Bonus Platonic one for Leif

-Leif would have quite of few chocolates gifted to him already, but he would be happy to accept yours too.

“Thank you, [Y/N]. I really am happy that I got to see all my friends today.”

-Leif looks pensively over the mountain of chocolate at his side and then back to you.

“Why don’t you take some of the chocolate yourself, and then lets give some to those who didn’t get any today. I’m sure they would really appreciate it.”

-As you pass them out to others, you notice that Leif had eaten at least once piece out of every set he received.

#leif fire emblem #tharja fire emblem #askr fire emblem #leo fire emblem #tana fire emblem #tharja x reader #askr x reader #leo x reader #tana x reader #fire emblem headcanons

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cxce15 · 2 years ago

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Is there any Vikings Valhalla fans out there

If there is and you write please I am begging you to write for Leif Erikson

I am in love with this man right here so please give me something to soothe my obession

Please and thank you

Have a good day

#leif erikson #vikings valhalla #netflix #sam corlett #cxce15 #leif erikson x reader

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introverted-imagineer · 2 years ago

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Renegades (Part 1)

Warnings: Violence, Death, Sexist/degrading themes, smutty themes, religious themes.

Description: Leif x Reader

A Saxon reader lives at a monastery as a postulant under the unforgiving rule of cruel leaders...until the Vikings turn their world upside down.

On the outskirts of London, along the peaceful river nestled into county land, a small monastery lies hidden amongst the wheat fields and wild grass. Mostly untouched and isolated from the Saxon population, the monastery exists ruled under the strong hand of Æthelred II. The inhabitants of the monastery live a life of solitude, as silence is believed to be the space in which God may truly talk to his patrons. Those who were worthy of course. Monks spend their days in prayer, study, and education. The more quiet inhabitants, the sisters of Æthelstan live under the monks, silenced to a life of servitude to the Monks, enabling the Monks to live a life in a constant state of spiritual sabbatical…

A deep yawn escapes as I sat knelt on the ground, my aching fingers clasped tightly together. The stone brick room leaves no allowance for heat within the room, the only source of light and warmth coming from the flickering candles as they fight against the wax consuming it. ‘When the candle has melted entirely is a good indication of when prayer may be replaced by sleep’ Elder Aefentid had commanded. Easy for him to say whilst he and his monks sat in the library in front of the roaring fire on a cold eve. ‘Insolence is a sin Sister Y/N’ Mother Brynhorn always scolded me. Being the youngest in the monastery wasn’t an easy feat, especially under the watchful eyes of Elder Aefentid and Mother Brynhorn’s leadership.

Sister Edith whipped her head around forcefully, her eyes squinting in a nasty manner as her gaze locked onto mine with just as much vexation. If there was anyone as rapacious, earnest, competitive or desperate for purpose and power, it was Sister Edith. To be prideful and spiteful in spirit was an abomination, but if it were in the name of Christ, it was perfectly acceptable. It was practically demanded. Living at the Monastery was meant to be an unselfish, charitable, spiritual existence, but within its walls, malice, ambition and greed were what truly plagued the inhabitants. We weren't living true to God's word. If this place were true to God’s word, God would send his enemies to this place. There was no redemption for the people here.

We all sat in prayer, under the watchful gaze of Mother Brynhorn as she gazed over the sisters with her nose held up high. Under her habit, I could see her legs shift in an attempt to warm up her body, but it was no use. As high and mighty as the sisters treated her, and as diligent as she felt, the Monks were certain to make sure that Mother Brynhorn knew she was just as inferior as the rest of us. The room was silent, only allowing for the noise of wistful cold air as it whistled gushing between the cracks of the stone walls, the sound of fire sizzling as it inevitably lost its battle, and became swallowed up by the melted wax. We all sat still, however, waiting for the ring of the bell to tell us we could retreat into the blissful escape of sleep.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

*Ding. Ding. Ding.*

The bells vibrations carried across the small room, radiating to the depth of my eardrums. The quiet sound of dresses sweeping against the floor, followed by the gentle light footsteps as the sisters exited the room. The sounds of our footsteps carried down the dense room, ricocheting down the hall as the final ding of the bell cascaded into silence.

*DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING…*

The bells continued to sound, getting faster and louder with each thrust. Some of the sisters dropped to their knees, others stood frozen in fear, and the voice of Brother Irvin could be heard from the bell tower ‘INVASION’ he screamed across the small courtyard. The silence was sliced in half by the piercing screams and cries of the sisters, the deep voices of the brothers from upstairs could be heard shouting at one another, Elder Aefentid yelling orders. ‘GO TO THE CELLAR’ Sister Brynhorn screamed as she rushed down the hall, ushering the sisters down the stone steps. I stood, frozen in place, for some reason, desperate to go anywhere but the cellar.

The Monks cascaded down the stone steps, running toward the large wooden gate that remained forever locked. My gaze was fixated on the gate as it opened, revealing the world outside I hadn’t seen in months. The moon shone brightly upon the field, illuminating the ground below. The wheat was now as tall as a person, a fiery orange glow shining behind the wheat, illuminating a presence from afar. ‘SISTER Y/N GET TO THE CELLAR THIS INSTANT’ that old crabby voice cried. Instead, my legs took me toward the gate, instead of the cellar. ‘Y/N’ she screamed, a deep growl in her voice. But the sound of her voice was soon replaced by the sound of my heavy breathing and footsteps as I ran across the court toward the large gate, desperate to seek more of the outside world than I had seen since I came here. I could barely register the numbness I had previously felt in my body that made my body freeze, and instead, the forceful beating of my heart warmed my body as I ran toward the group of Monks that flocked outside the gate, unforgivingly handling their swords with such pitiful stance.

God at least admires your efforts…hopefully, God had a sense of humour, I thought.

I could almost smell the wheat as I got closer to the gate, only for the scent to be stolen from my senses as the large gate suddenly slammed shut in front of me. Brothers Svein and Wystan are on either side of the door, standing guard as to shut down any source of freedom or hope. ‘DECEITFUL CHILD’ Brother Wystan growled, raising his palm, landing a quick backhand to my temple. I stumbled at the sudden impact, falling at the feeling of a leg kicking into the back of my knees. My palm stung as the small rocks and pebbles cut deep into the flesh of my skin. 'AWAY' he hissed.

I gathered my knees beneath me, running back toward the monastery walls, only to find the door to the cellar firmly shut and locked. I turned toward the east wing, running down the hall, almost crawling up the stairs as I desperately climbed the steps against the chaos, tripping on my long skirt. Upon the top of the stairs, I immediately ran across the turret, following the light streaming from the corner tower. The walls were adorned with books with shelves that reached the ceiling. Rolls of parchment and collections of quills and ink adorned the crafted tables. The Monks Library. I gawked at the realisation. The library, a sector strictly forbidden from the sisters. The room was enveloped by the warmth of a roaring fire, the sweet sickly smell of grapes wafted across the room as half-drunk glasses sat upon the central table, the roasting sizzle of hot stew boiled in a large cauldron. Bastards. I stomped to the table, spitting in the large pot out of spite.

The ladder to the bell tower sat sturdily within the library walls. I inspected the ceiling, surprised to see a trap door on the ceiling open. I eyed the ceiling carefully, looking between the gap to find the bell tower completely unoccupied as the bell itself had stopped ringing entirely. This was my only chance. I grasped the ladder, my left palm stinging at the sensation as a light trickle of dried blood cascaded down to my wrist. I kicked my feet out from under the confines of my skirt, climbed the ladder to the ceiling, and finally crawled into the moonstruck cool breeze as I slithered through the trap door, slamming it shut below me. The bell tower was surrounded by stone pillars but never had I imagined the view would be so widespread as the wheat fields surrounding the walls of the monastery seemed to go forever and ever. The only difference in scenery was the small river way, cutting through the fields of unending wheat.

Yellow and brownfields were splotched in patches of red, as unidentifiable monks lay face down on the ground, blood pooling out of their lifeless bodies. A deep growl emitted as sounds of water violently splashed, interrupting the gentle flow of the riverbed. Two peculiar-looking bodies struggled and fought against the uniformed bodies of a group of men. Bodies smashed, as men growled, yelled and grunted, the sound of skin and bodies smashing against one another. The only source of light illuminating the scene below came from a burning wooden pillar that leant to one side, threateningly burning close to the dry field below. One of the men ran into the darkness of night, while multiple bodies followed, yelling at the figure. The other unfamiliar-looking individual, dressed in strange clothes battled in hand-to-hand combat in the river with a uniformed Saxon. Someone direct from London…the invaders more threatening than anticipated if the Saxons came all the way here. The stranger grabbed the Saxon by the throat, his body shifting as he turned and thrust his opponent into the water, his head now directed toward the bell tower. I dropped to my knees, pressing my back to the stone wall, hiding away from the gaze of the stranger. I listened to the water splash as his deep voice grunted. But I couldn’t keep away for that long. I crawled back to the other side of the tower, sitting on my knees, letting my head ascend just enough to see the river below. This time, the Saxon stood triumphantly, waist-deep in water as he struggled to keep the body beneath the surface. I could make out the body of the man struggling underneath the water as he fought against the harsh grip of the Saxon.

I don’t know why, but something felt wrong about the whole scene in front of me. The bodies of monastery inhabitants lay lifeless, blood still pooling from them, staining the crop around them. A Saxon man triumphantly stood, defeating whatever entity had come to destroy us. But strange, all my energy, my being, my emotion was solely focused on the foreigner as he struggled beneath the surface of the water, drowning at the hands of my own people. The people who were here to protect us, and yet, I couldn’t let him die, and I couldn’t explain the inexplicable feeling as to why. I desperately searched around for anything that could help, his counterpart had long gone, and it was unlikely that the monastery was going to share my outlook of mercy for the man that had killed their brothers. In the corner of the tower sat a bow and a few arrows. It sat securely in the corner, covered in cobwebs, and coated in dust, indicating it had been sitting there untouched for a long time.

I brought my shaking hands, desperately prying off the old, thick webs. I had no training, and I had never touched a weapon before, but I had seen my father wield one as a child, but I was never allowed to go hunting with him. But I had seen him shoot a shot once.

I shakily loaded the arrow into the bow, my hands shaking either in fear or desperation. I gathered all my strength, pulling the string back with such forceful desperation that was probably bound to snap. I directed the tip of the arrow toward the man, letting the string go as it quickly swiped against my cheek, sending a shooting sting across it. The arrow pierced the wind, flying straight toward the river, only to shoot into the riverbed, missing the man so unskilfully. But it was enough to catch his attention. The man suddenly averted his attention, looking for the source of the arrow, directing his attention to the bell tower. I could hear him growl as his fury turned from the man beneath the water to me.

Oh God, what have I done?

A sudden loud gasp of air emitted, followed by a loud, deep yell that emitted from deep within the previously drowning man. The Saxon, clearly surprised, turned back toward the man, only to be met with a rock to the face. The loud crack hauntingly pierced my ears, as I watched blood spew from the man's nose, only for the Saxon to pin his head under the water effortlessly, until it swept away lifelessly down the river with the current, followed by a watery trail of crimson. My gaze locked onto his lifeless body aimlessly flowing down the river, the monastery now dead quiet.

The man swayed as he stood waist-deep in the river, hunching over as he coughed and spluttered liquid. I could swear there was blood. Struggling desperately against the gentle tide, he weakly grasped onto the riverbank, using everything within to pry his body from the water. I could hear his grunts as he struggled but eventually pulled himself just enough onto the bank to escape the freezing water. However, he didn’t seem all that bothered by the cold temperature. If his close encounter with death by drowning wasn’t going to kill him, the cold temperature probably would.

I turned my gaze back toward the monastery courtyard to find the grounds completely deserted. Monks were never the bravest of sorts.

I climbed down the ladder, cautiously leaving the trap door open as it once was before. The only sounds now were the whistling winds and the chirping of insects in the distance. The once roaring fire that encapsulated the Monk's restricted library was now completely consumed by ash remnants. The battle below had felt so quick, but the now cool temperature of the room proved otherwise. Amongst the luxurious items in the library, furs adorned the chairs providing further warmth while we sisters made do with old woven blankets with gaping holes in the fabric. I grabbed one of the furs, folding it into a tight ball and hiding it within the large sleeve of my habit.

The large oak wooden gate was now totally unguarded, as everyone had taken refuge in hiding. If only they knew there were only two offenders…but they didn’t need to. The gate, now inched a crack open slowly creaked as the winds blew forcefully against the wood. I slowly squeezed through the gap, being sure not to move the gate in case it drew attention. The bottom of my dress became slightly damp as the crimson stain of fallen blood pooled at my feet. Still warm, and already flies begun to swarm the bodies of the fallen monks. The scene in front looked like a hunt, similar to the ones my father and brothers used to go on, but instead of deer or pheasants, human bodies lay dead…and I didn’t feel any sympathy.

I quietly trudged through the wheat, grass now sticking to the thick crimson blood which stained the bottom of my dress. The sound of the river carried gently as if it had been undisturbed all evening. A gentle groan emitted, followed by chesty coughs. I cautiously approached, being sure not to rouse or alert the stranger. His coughs got louder the closer I approached, he didn’t seem phased about alerting anyone of his presence…a true sign of a dangerous person. I peeped through the long thin grass to see his body curled up in a ball, spluttering and spitting out liquid nestled deep within his lungs. His eyes were closed shut, the coughing clearly a source of pain, his body quivering as the cool temperature began to consume him. His body shifted, as he rolled towards the river, letting the contents of his stomach spew from his insides. He let out a loud gasp of relief, turning back over gently, only for his body to stiffen as his gaze locked onto mine. He grasped one of the rocks from the riverbank, raising it above his head, directing his aim toward me. The way our eyes were fixated, our bodies still, it was clear we were both waiting for the other to make a move first. I gently lifted my hands, showing a sign of surrender to assure the man I meant no harm. Whether that would stop him from killing me like he had the others, I didn’t know, but even a violent death would be a preferable end to a lifetime at the monastery as a sister. He lowered his arm slightly, but his fingers were still tightly clasped around the rock. As I reached inside my sleeve, he propped himself up onto his feet, squatting on the ground, raising the rock back up behind him.

‘Who are you?’ He questioned. I was taken aback, not by the gruffness of his voice, but by the dialect he spoke. My village was populated by both Saxon and Danish settlers back home, the language although foreign to most was familiar to me. However, his strong accent indicated that this man was a long way from home, likely not a Danish settler himself. ‘SPEAK’ he yelled, almost as if he wasn’t sure I understood him at all. He inspected my long dress, taking particular interest in the habit which revealed only the skin of my face. Otherwise, everything else was completely covered. I pulled the soft fur from my habit, throwing the ball of fabric at his feet before taking a step back. He leant his arm forward, his gaze and striking aim still locked on me, his fingers gently smoothed over the warm dry fabric. He glanced down, only to quickly revert his pupils to mine. He continued to stare, both of us frozen in place, but now instead of a tense feeling in the air, an aura of calmness washed over us.

*Ding. Ding. Ding.*

Instantaneously, we both directed our gaze to the bell tower as brother Svein stood atop the tower, his back turned towards us. He clearly hadn’t looked carefully enough to check if all was safe outside the grounds of the monastery. I quickly turned around, averting my attention back to the stranger in front of me. I simply nodded, before running back through the long grass, slipping back through the confines of the monastery.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Three days had gone by, and the stranger was now a complete enigma as if he had never existed. Elder Aefentid and selected brothers were permitted to leave the grounds to retrieve the bodies of their fallen brothers. They all returned alive and unharmed, either the stranger had died or had left. I hoped it was the latter.

Elder Aefentid spoke on the other side of the small divider, singing in Latin and reciting bible verses. The brothers got to sit on pillars, the sisters had to kneel. While chapel services were silent and separate, the allowance for mixed services was completely out of the ordinary. Elder Aefentid had decided to sanctify the fallen Monks, as he put ‘who so bravely fought to protect this institute of God’. An interesting narrative, considering they engaged in no battle, merely sent out for slaughter. Their weapons mearly decorations. Their bodies lay there, crafted and carefully placed to hide the marks of defeat and expert combat their fates ultimately had succumbed to.

The service persisted into what was seemingly an endless day. I could feel my knees clicking beneath me, my neck stiff in place as I obediently faced my head toward the ground. Nobody dared move, not even Sister Edith, as Mother Brynhorn sat on her pitiful stool with a watchful eye cast over the group. In particular, her gaze was directed at me. In the eyes of the Monks, sweeping fireplaces and cleaning chamberpots were enough suited punishment for disobeying Mother Brynhorn’s orders. If it were up to her, the consequences would have been severely different…

‘Now we will proceed with silent prayer’ Elder Aefentid announced. The aura of animosity that swept the room was evident by the sound of silent sighs of agony, even Sister Edith began to shuffle on her knees to relieve the ache of her legs. The sound of slurping could be heard on the other side of the divider as the Monks silently sipped on sacramental wine. I could feel my lips cracking as I desperately lapped my equally dry tongue over them in a desperate attempt to hydrate myself. Even Mother Brynhorn sat on her stool, taking deep meditative breaths in an attempt to calm her fury as the Monks silently enjoyed the luxury of the tart grape liquid. At this moment, the life of rest and recreation the fallen brothers had lived within the Monastery, I couldn’t bring myself to pray for their souls. I couldn’t relish in their sanctity, I could barely bring myself to pity the violent death they came to at the hands of the two strangers nights ago. Elder Aefentid made it clear, our prayers were to be focused upon the fallen brothers, to truly worship their sacrifice and bravery, both in life and death.

Bullshit. I thought.

Instead, as my legs ached beneath me, my stomach pained at the hunger, and my dry parched lips. All I could think about was the stranger. How his eyes squinted as if he were in a constant state of contemplation, the way his sun-bleached strands of hair shone amongst the sandy brunette locks, how his wet clothes stuck to his muscly figure…

‘Sister Y/N’ Mother Brynhorn hissed. I opened my eyes to find everyone standing to attention, Elder Aefentid now standing at the head of the room, both their eyes cast on me still knelt on the ground. I wearily shifted my stiff legs, a loud crack evident as my joints adjusted to a stand. ‘Forgive her, Elder Aefentid, she is still young’ Mother Brynhorn pleaded with slight desperation in her voice. Elder Aefentid stood, his nostrils flaring as he shifted his gaze between the pair of us. His hand came down with a striking slap, causing Mother Brynhorn to step back as she regained her balance. ‘This is what I get for trusting you to bring in some farmer's daughter’ he scolded. ‘The King is a fool for trusting in his whore of a wife, an abomination of Viking descent, women have no place at a monastery’ he shouted, spitting in her face as he got closer and closer to her person. Mother Brynhorn stood there, her eyes cast to the floor in shame. Although she was a leader by definition, there was no way Elder Aefentid was going to allow her to feel as such. ‘AND YOU’ he screamed, his chunky index finger now pointing at me, his sleeve slightly fallen back revealing his prominent veiny arms. ‘Learn to submit or else’ he threatened. The rest of the sisters stood firmly to the side, parting like Moses and the red sea, leaving me vulnerable to the wrath of Elder Aefentid. I closed my eyes, anticipating a blow like Mother Brynhorn. Instead, his footsteps carried to the other side of the room, behind the divider and out the oak door.

We all stood in silence, not sure what to do. ‘Go to your quarters for individual prayer’ Mother Brynhorn silently whispered between sniffles. The Sisters didn’t need to be told twice, as soon as Mother Brynhorn had finished her sentence, the sisters swept out of the room. I cautiously followed to leave, but Mother Brynhorn stood there, still silent with her palm cupped to her cheek. I turned around, approaching her instead. ‘Mother Brynhorn, are you oka…’

*SLAP*

My weight shifted beneath me at the sudden impact of her strike. I could feel a warm liquid dripping from my nose as a stinging pain seared the bridge of my nose. I gently brought my hand up to my nose, only for my fingers to stain from the small flow of blood. ‘You will not make a mockery of me anymore SISTER’. Her voice sarcastically seethed that last word. For them, the term sister implied equality amongst the women here, but in her eyes, I was still the young, naive postulant. ‘GO TO YOUR QUARTERS, AND YOU WILL STAY THERE TILL THE DAWN OF TOMORROWS MORN’ she screamed, her voice echoing within the small chapel. I turned quickly, speedily walking down the monastery corridor to the small isolated room that was more suited to be a broom closet rather than a bedroom. But I was grateful for the solitude it provided. Outside the door, a large clang thrust against the door. I reached to open it, only to find the door locked in place. ‘Shit’ I whispered to myself.

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The small cracks in the stone wall allowed a small beacon of light to enter the room. But the light turned from a summery yellow to orange streaks as the day slowly faded away into darkness. My stomach rumbled so loudly, I could swear it would be heard outside the locked door. The old candle wax was even beginning to look appetising. I was used to fasting, but fasting with a combination of worry and boredom brought about a different type of hunger. I sat on my thin bed, listening to the pitter-patter of feet outside the door. But just as normal, the monastery was silent. This was no place for chatter, socialisation, or community. For the sisters particularly, Monastery life was a lonely experience. In the eyes of these people, however, I was always going to be the farmer's daughter.

As I sat there studying the sounds of footsteps, the gentle pitter of feet outside the door began to turn to pacing, then speed walking, and all at once, it turned to running. I sat up at the sudden shift in pace. What was calm had turned to chaos. Silence filled with yelling. ‘THEY’RE BACK’ I heard Mother Brynhorn’s voice scream down the hall. I stood up, desperately jiggling the door frame in an attempt to see what the cause of the commotion was. Were there bandits in the field? Had the King come unannounced? Maybe war-ravaged Saxons were at the gate begging and demanding shelter and supplies. If there was something this place was not, it was charitable.

*DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING…*

The bells rang, sending everyone outside into a scramble. A piercing deep yell screamed in agony from afar. The sound of women screaming became louder as they all banded together. I banged on the door, but they were lost to the sounds of desperate outcry and fear that sounded outside the door.

‘VIKINGS’ Elder Aefentid’s voice cried. The sound of outcry continued, their screams encapsulating the entire compound as the sounds of running feet echoed, slamming doors and desperate pleas to God. In the distance, the sound of metal beating against wood could be heard, turning to the sound of men and women talking. I couldn’t make out specifically what was being said, but their heavy thick accents carried through, making obvious the group that was headed towards our doorstep were not our allies.

I frantically kicked at the door, desperate to get out. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic in the small room, helpless and panicked at the bewilderment just on the other side of the door. The clanging sound of metal, laughter and taunting came closer and closer until the banging outside began. The sounds from outside the gate carried through the monastery as the large oak door took the brunt of a beating. The apparent Vikings held no mercy as the sounds of their forces became stronger and stronger. A loud BANG emitted, and the sounds of yelling and screaming continued as the intruders laughed and roared in celebration.

Suddenly the sound of slashing flesh, cries of agony and screams to God painted a more sinister picture of what was happening outside the door. I stepped away, backing up against the stone wall away from the door. A small trickle of crimson crept under the door. In particular the voice of a man, deep, regal, prideful, and confident cast across the corridor outside. ‘FOR SAINT BRICES DAY, AVENGE OUR PEOPLE, AVENGE YOUR KING’ he cried as his calls were met with celebratory cries. The sounds of doors opening and closing roughly could be heard, slowly making their way down the hall. Closer…and closer…and closer, until the door started to vibrate. The door almost came off its hinges, slamming against the stone wall as a powerful kick almost broke the wood in two. I slowly drew my eyes from the powerful feet that entered the room upwards. His statue was not too tall, nor too short. His thick, almost new-looking clothing indicated he was a man of money. He had long, yet clean-tamed facial hair that matched his raven locks. The hair, cut to the root on the sides, emphasised his long luscious ponytail. I stood with my back to the stone wall, my nails digging into the coarse texture of the stone. He waltzed into the room, his welded weapon clearly made of the finest materials. He looked around the room agonisingly slowly taking in every detail, a taunting chuckle as his eyes landed on me. He lifted his palm, brushing his thumb over my cupid's bow, bringing it to his lips sucking on the dried crimson blood that had stained my skin hours ago. He lifted an eyebrow inquisitively, his eyes capturing mine entirely as he playfully rejoiced in my terror. He slowly pulled out a blood-stained knife from his belt, grabbed a heap of my skirt, cleaning it slowly on my dress, dousing my dress in blood. I could hear my voice hitch in my throat, my eyes bulging out of my head as the man laughed.

‘King Canu…’ another Viking entered, taken aback by the scene in front of him. As soon as his eyes met mine, it was as if lightning had struck us both. His face was inquisitively looking as if in a state of contemplation. Those eyes struck me as they did the other night. He stood there, his chest rising and falling, the raven-haired man looking intently at the stranger. ‘What is it Greenlander?’ His voice demanded. But the Greenlander didn’t take his eyes off mine, nor I his. ‘Harald needs you’ he said, a slight cough as he spoke. Clearly the incident the other night still affected him. The King took a step back, contemplating his next move as he shifted his gaze between the pair of us. He gave a quick nod, accepting his sudden change in plan, but his knife was still directed at me. He gently turned toward the door, handing the hilt of the knife to the Greenlander. He put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze as a proud parent would to their child. ‘All yours Greenlander’ he said, turning around and eyeing me up and down like cattle for the slaughter. The King calmly strode out of the room amongst the chaos, undisturbed and totally in control. The Greenlander stood there, the knife loosely clutched to his chest, still staring as if unsure of what to do.

‘You speak Norse?’ He questioned in his native tongue. I simply nodded in response. ‘You are Viking?’ He questioned, his eyes evidently confused as he looked at my habit. I shook my head. He took a step forward, clutching the knife tightly as if he were about to use it. ‘How do you speak Norse?’ He demanded. ‘Vikings settled in my village…’ I whispered, my voice slightly shaking as I stared at the knife in his hand, still plastered against the wall. ‘DID YOU KILL THEM?’ He screamed, pouncing forward, pressing his forearm arms against my breasts, pushing me further into the wall as the blade of his knife rested against my throat. ‘WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?’ I screamed back, panicked as the crisp cool blade pressed further into my throat. The Greenlander took a step back, his face questioning at the response. He looked behind him to find the corridor behind him completely empty. He seemed relieved by this for some unknown reason. He lowered the knife, still clutched firmly within his grasp, but, pointed in my direction. ‘What is this place?’ He questioned, his tone still demanding. ‘It’s called a Monastery…it’s sort of like a temple’ I retorted, my gaze still fixated upon the blade pointed in my direction. He looked around, taking in all the detail of our surroundings. ‘Why are you here?’ He questioned. ‘I didn’t have much of a choice…my fate came to me just like yours did you’ I whispered, attempting to communicate in terms he would understand. The Viking settlers back home always spoke of the Seer, fates and the Gods. ‘You are a priestess?’ He questioned, more inquisitively. I shook my head. He stood there contemplating, I could feel my body shaking in anticipation, questioning his next move.

‘LEIF’ a voice shouted down the corridor, gaining the Greenlander's attention swiftly. He raised his knife once more, pointing the blade in my direction. ‘Stay’ he ordered, backing out of the room, and swiftly shutting the door behind him.

My legs buckled beneath me as I dropped to the floor, cupping my mouth to stifle my cry. The tips of my fingers stung as I clutched the stone so tightly it had indented my fingertips. I could still feel the force of his body against my breast where he had pushed up against me...the pierce of his blade on my throat.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

The room was pitch black as I sat at the very head of the bed, curled up into a ball, leaning into the stone wall. The night was cool, but the aura in the air was chilling. The Vikings walked up and down the corridor, making my heart beat like a drum each time footsteps came close to the boarding wing. There was no mistaking it, the Vikings had made themselves quite at home without much retaliation from the Monastery’s inhabitants. It had been a while since I’d heard any screams from the sisters, or cries from the Monks. The last peep I heard from any of them was their agonising screams at whatever fate had brought them. I could feel my body shake, the night was not cold, but it was frightening. Whatever the Greenlander had in store, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I had heard many tales from Viking settlers in their homeland…horror stories. beatings…releasing prisoners only to hunt them like a game…ritual sacrifice…blood eagles. I could feel the bottom of my teeth slightly chip as I fought so hard to stop my teeth from chattering. My body felt so hot, yet cold at the same time. It felt as though my heart was going to explode.

A set of footsteps quickly paced down the corridor, headed straight for the boarding wing. I reached for the wooden candle holder, gripping it firmly within my grasp as if it were any match against whatever weapons the Vikings had. The door slowly peeled open, and an orange hue emitted from the other side of the door. The Greenlander slid into the room, firmly closing the door behind him, knife still in hand. Without thinking, I flung the wooden candlestick at his chest, rising to my feet and jumping toward the door. As swiftly as the wood had hit him, his one arm wrapped around my mid-section catching me midair as if I were a feather. The knife made a clang as it dropped to the floor. He held his candle steadily in the other hand. His fingers gripped the skin of my dress, thrusting my body onto the lumpy mattress. I screamed, kicking and flailing my arms about in a pathetic effort for self-defence.

The Greenlander slammed his candle down on the small wooden table shoved up against the door, his arms attempting to grab my wrists. I flailed and kicked, screaming as he expertly clutched both my wrists in his one hand, thrusting his palm onto my mouth to muffle the screams. His leg expertly knelt upon my long skirt, pressing between my thighs so the fabric trapped my legs in place. He stayed there, his grip intensifying as I began to cry, muffled begs, pleading. Eventually, he brought his body down, his chest now pressed against mine as his hot breath breathed into my ear. ‘Stop’. He hissed, the heat penetrating my eardrum. I turned my head, the tips of our noses just brushing as I looked at him through teary eyes. He brought his hand to his face, my wrists still clutched in his grasp. He lifted his index finger, pressing it to his lips in a shushing motion. I just nodded. He raised his palm off my mouth, looking relieved to find my lips locked tightly together. He thrust his face into my neck, letting out a groan as he tentatively let go of my wrist placing his hand on the curve of my waist. His breath was just as steamy on my throat, but it was only momentarily as he lifted himself from atop of me, kneeling at the end of the mattress. His eyes still locked onto mine as I curled myself back into a ball, trying to blend into the wall.

He let out a huff, grabbing the knife he had previously dropped, tucking it safely into his belt. He seemed breathless, even though his efforts to stop my attack attempts were so inferior to his strength. We sat there, staring at one another, unsure of what to do.

‘What is your name?’ He whispered, breaking the never-ending silence. ‘Y…..Y/N’ I retorted, my breath as stuttered as it was exasperated. ‘Y/N’ he repeated quietly to himself. I glanced up and down his body at the end of my bed. ‘What’s yours?’ I whispered back. I could swear through the flickering light I could see him slightly smirk to himself. ‘My name is Leif’ he spoke. ‘Leif’ I repeated to myself. ‘Are you going to kill me, Leif?’ I questioned, trying to back into the wall more. He averted his gaze to the wall, taking a deep breath. He stood from the bed, placing his back against the opposite wall, sliding down. He seemed confused, even conflicted by the question. He looked toward the flickering candle, as it slowly melted into a pool of wax. But I didn’t take my eye off him. He averted his gaze back to mine, giving a slight nod. ‘Go to sleep Y/N’ he said. I took some deep breaths, staring back at him as he took in the tiny room around him. The silence...the waiting...it was infinite.

It was evident that Leif had no intentions of striking up more conversation or leaving. I slowly leaned forward, his gaze now locking onto mine as he clutched the hilt of his knife at his belt. I gently lifted the blanket from the bed, slowly peeling it off, before scrunching it up into a ball, reaching over the bed to place it at his feet. His gaze flickered between the blanket and me, almost confused at the gesture.

He simply nodded. With that I shifted my body, laying down, turning away from him. If he were going to kill me, at least he might show mercy to do it to me in my sleep…

#leif eriksson #leif x reader #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #vikings valhalla #vikings

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bumblesimagines · 4 months ago

Text

Under The Moonlight

Part 16

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Seven years have passed since (Y/N) and the crew arrived to Constantinople. They've settled in since then, but life has not been easy for them.

CW/TW: Violence, war, religion bashing, vikings being vikings, period era situationships lmao, angst?, hurt emotionally and physically but barely any comfort, red flags? dont know her, (y/n) im begging you there's better fish in the sea

If you're new here and wondering where this came from, you can check out part one here and the masterlist here!

~~~

Seven years had passed since Emperor Romanos offered his sincere gratitude for ensuring the safe passage of his new wife, Eleana who they now were to call Empress Zoe. His gratitude reared its head through riches, rewards, and a place amongst his people, as well as a place amongst his army of men trained to kill and conquer the land of the empire's enemies. Constantinople was home now, even if temporarily.

They'd all settled in, although it'd taken time to grow accustomed to the vastly different culture and language. It'd been a difficult feat for (Y/N), his longing for his real home never dissipating amidst the heat and flourishing city. He missed his settlement in Greenland, his old friends, dearly missed his beloved mother who'd no doubt presumed him dead when he and his siblings hadn't returned home from their voyage. He longed for the cold and snow, the sound of the wind howling at night.

Leif and Harald, ever the adaptable ones, slotted in perfectly with their surroundings.

Harald climbed the ranks with ease, finding himself a stranger no more to Emperor Romanos as his personal bodyguard and newfound general of his own army: the Varangians, an army full of Vikings and mercenaries in need of a home and money. It'd been expected from a Viking prince to slither his way up and coil around such an important role. He ensured the crew joined his army, and took part in the fighting and rewards. But it was never enough for Harald, no matter how many riches he acquired through the years. Nothing was ever enough for him.

Leif took to Mariam's old home and called it his own, his newfound thirst for knowledge only growing after he read through all her books and eventually began seeking it out in places called 'libraries'; rooms of knowledge, he explained. Each time they traveled to fight another war for Emperor Romanos, he sought out the writings and maps of those places, learning new information from ancient and modern times. The sciences of the world around them enthralled him, captivated him into an obsession. (Y/N) preferred it, though. He preferred his brother's eagerness over watching Leif lose himself in grief again.

As much as (Y/N) found himself feeling out of place, fighting for the Byzantine Empire and calling Constantinople had given him much to do; and provided him with chances to see places he never would've dreamt of seeing. Such as the place they'd traveled to now, to defeat the Saracens at the urging of General Maniakes in Sicily. They'd been fighting for six months in what felt like an endless siege, and Emperor Romanos had begun growing antsy.

(Y/N) squinted through the darkness as he walked through the tunnels they'd been digging for the past few weeks, a lantern tightly gripped in one hand and held before him. His eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness around him, allowing him to better see the crevices in the dirt walls around him. Short wooden beams and planks held the dirt in place, preventing it from crumpling and trapping those within. All a part of Leif's plan, as always.

"How are we doing, Kaysan?" (Y/N) called out once the man came into view, flashing him a smile and being rewarded with a large one in return. Kaysan chuckled and wiped his hands along his pants, the subtle stink of sulfur lingering in the air around them. Foul-smelling enough to bring tears to one's eyes, but Leif insisted it was needed for his plan to work.

"Your brother is working on the last of the sulfur we need. He says once it is ready, we can set the plan in motion." Kaysan answered, taking a step back to admire the combined work of the last couple weeks. Bundles of sulfur had been pushed into holes expanding across the wall of dirt, ready to be lit by a flame that'd bring down the tunnel and subsequently the wall of the fortress just mere feet above them. "I must admit I had little faith in his plan at first. But seeing what this powder can do when a flame is close to it..." Kaysan shook his head lightly, a twinkle of admiration in his dark eyes.

"It is hard to match up to such a creative thinker as Leif." (Y/N) chuckled, his steps slow as he walked along the wall and took in the wall before him. He'd always known his brother had been destined for great things, whether on land or sea. Leif had inherited the best parts of his parents. No longer the savage son of Erik the Red. No, that title had fallen on (Y/N)'s shoulders, and he accepted it.

"Come now," Kaysan gave his shoulder a small playful push. "You hardly need to match up to him, (Y/N). You're a smart man, and a loyal one at that; and, from what I've heard, you're quite charismatic when you wish to be."

"Have you been gossiping with the others, Kay?" (Y/N) questioned with a teasing grin, casting a glance at the man over his shoulder. It hardly counted as gossip, he supposed. Things with Harald never lasted long, whether he pulled away first or Harald did, but they always returned to each other in a desperate clash. It was vexing and tiresome, and he'd made up his mind a long time ago to put his foot down when it came to the charming prince.

Kaysan gave a light shrug. "It surprised us, is all."

The thumping of footsteps, soft panting, and clinking of lanterns swaying filled the tunnel, and (Y/N) had heard the panting noise enough times to recognize who it belonged to. He made brief eye contact with Kaysan and turned, raising his lantern high and smiling at the sight of his brother, although it faltered slightly when Harald appeared behind him.

"Keeping an eye on things?" Leif asked, his hand rubbing affectionately into (Y/N)'s shoulder when he passed him by. The two Vikings carried sacks slung over their shoulder, no doubt the last of the sulfur they needed to ensure the wall would completely collapse and allow them within. (Y/N) gave a silent nod, feeling Harald's eyes burning into the side of his skull.

"Future King of Norway," Kaysan greeted teasingly, patting Harald's arm and taking the sack from Harald so he could insert the last of it into the dirt walls around them. Harald chuckled breathlessly in return, tearing his eyes away from (Y/N) to study the dirt room. (Y/N) allowed himself to watch him, taking in the grime and blood covering his exposed biceps and face. He'd ridden off to battle once more, no doubt a failure as all the battles before.

"As soon as we take this castle," Harald murmured, his hands coming to rest at his hips. (Y/N) swallowed, his gaze sliding away from the beautiful prince as bitterness settled in his stomach. Despite the years that'd passed, Harald's mind never changed on what he truly desired above all else: the throne of Norway, one occupied by the son of a man Harald once considered a close friend.

"Is there really as much treasure inside as you say?" Kaysan asked, voice strained as he worked to shove the rolls of sulfur into the wall with Leif's help.

"Enough to fund all our dreams," Harald replied.

(Y/N) hooked his lantern on one of the wooden posts and crouched down beside him, rolling up the dark blue sleeves of his tunic and revealing the ink along his right arm. The creature his mother would tell tales of back in his youth; a sea monster that resembled an octopus but grew to be as large as a warship named Kraken.

The head and body of the began around his bicep while the tentacles expanded and wrapped around his forearm, stopping around his wrist. He understood why so many others covered themselves with ink, whether writings or designs. The Kraken reminded him of his mother, of all the times he spent on a boat watching his brother and father hunt for narwhals and other sea beasts.

Dipping his hand into the sack, he wrapped his fingers around one of the rolls and carefully lifted it before he pushed it into one of the holes in the wall. He rolled it side to side, scrapping and mushing dirt until the roll was securely in place. He mimicked the movements with a few more rolls, absentmindedly listening to the three men speak about the plan until he finished, his fingertips lightly dusted in the vibrant yellow powder. (Y/N) stood back up and turned, nearly barreling into Harald's chest plate.

"Can we speak?" Harald asked softly, and (Y/N) felt his skin burn at the knowing glances cast in their direction from Kaysan and Leif.

"We have little to speak about, Harald." (Y/N) told him, scooping his lantern back into his hand and making his way through the tunnel. Harald followed him because the man never took an answer he didn't want, and (Y/N) largely ignored him until they reached the entrance of the tunnel and stepped out into the blinding light of the late evening.

"There's much to speak about, actually. Starting with the most important thing-"

"The throne?" (Y/N)'s features scrunched up, his spotty vision slowly adjusting to the daylight around them. He blinked a few times and his vision finally focused on the bustling camp around them. His gaze darted back to Harald's face, catching the grimace that passed over his features at his words before the general cleared his throat.

"No, I do not... I don't wish to speak of the throne. I know how you feel about it. You know how I feel about it." Harald frowned, his lips nearly covered by his thick beard. He took the lanterns from his hands and hung them up by the entrance, a heavy sigh escaping him. "You've done well in Constantinople for many years. I've seen you flourish. You're not as guarded as you once were. If you can do well in a court like the Emperor's, you'd do even better in a Viking court amongst your own people."

"Except it'd be your court with Christian jarls and Vikings who believe me worshipping a god that isn't theirs is a crime punishable by death. Your religion loves violently, Harald, as do its supporters. They'd condemn you for everything you've done with me." (Y/N) scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief and walking forward deeper into camp toward his tent. They'd had the conversation many times over the last few years, a neverending dance of push and pull trying to tire each other out into admitting defeat. But they were Vikings, and Vikings never gave up easily.

(Y/N) stepped through the flaps of his tent and released a heavy sigh, his feet guiding him to the basin sat on the table filled with warm water. He dipped his hands inside, cleaning the dirt and sulfur off his fingers until the water turned murky. The tent flaps rustled with the arrival of someone else stepping into his tent and he peeked over his shoulders, half-expecting to see Harald but only seeing Dorn. She smiled at him, her hands and sleeves of her blue tunic steeped in dark red. He crinkled his nose.

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know how it smells."

"Come wash your hands, then." (Y/N) smiled, picking up a rag and drying his hands with it as she stepped up and eagerly rinsed her hands clean of pig's blood. Her eyes flickered up toward him a few times, her lips twisting and teeth digging lightly into them. He tilted his head at her and took a seat at the table, reaching out to pluck a grape from the bowl in the center. "What is it, Dorn?"

"Batu and I were speaking the other day, and the topic of you and Harald came up." She began softly, thumb roughly rubbing into the skin of her palm until the streak of blood disappeared. Dorn raised her drenched hands toward her face, wiping off the grime and splatters of blood that'd collected on her skin. "I always wondered what went wrong between you both. When we meet... it seemed as if you two had much unspoken business. Then, during our trip to Constantinople, it all became clear. You were lovers, or former lovers, it was hard to tell at times but you... loved each other. We thought you had reconciled from whatever had occurred and yet..."

"I've come to learn that love is complicated, and at most times it's the worst thing that can occur. Harald is... a lot of things, too many things, truly. If you are worried that the same will happen between you and Batu, I can certainly assure you that it will not. Batu loves you, Dorn. I can see that you love him. You're happy together, content. Neither of you desires more than what you have now. Harald does. He hungers for far too many things, and it will eventually be his ruin. I do not wish to be dragged along with him."

"But you love each other?" Dorn questioned, wiping away droplets of water from her chin and drying her hands on her pants. (Y/N) plopped the grape into his mouth and bit into it, feeling the juices explode along his tongue as he mulled over her question. He loved Harald, he knew that well, but part of him resented him too. Most days, Harald made him wonder if he loved him, or merely lusted after him.

"It's complicated." He answered quietly, and Dorn winced, giving a meek nod and turning on her heel to leave the tent. He watched her depart, a mixture of emotions coiling around his heart and constricting it. (Y/N) released a shaky inhale and ran his hand over his face, forcing away the thoughts of Harald and their odd relationship to focus on preparing himself for a good night's rest and a long morning.

Seven years had passed, but it barely changed either of them.

The following morning, (Y/N) and the others awoke and began preparing for the day ahead before the sun had even risen over the horizon. They changed into clothes more worthy of battle, putting on their armor and chain mail before collecting their weapons. (Y/N) secured his dagger to his hip and retrieved a battle axe, a hefty yet powerful thing that'd do more swift damage than his dagger. By the time the sun rose, the Varangian army had gathered around awaiting instructions.

"Ready?" Leif asked softly, instinctively reaching out to check the straps of (Y/N)'s armor. The younger man smiled and allowed him to do so without fuss, a soft chuckle leaving him when Leif gave an approving nod, his fingers running over the chain mail before his arms dropped back to his sides.

"As always." (Y/N) sighed, glancing at Harald when the prince approached them. The deep furrow in his brows softened when they locked eyes, the determination in his gaze disappearing into a look of longing. Harald had grown over the years, all his training with a disciplined army making him stronger, and larger. His hair had grown, as had his beard, and on the days the two managed to keep the peace without arguments, Harald allowed him to trim them. He looked older, more king than prince, and it made his stomach churn to admit it to himself.

Harald walked past them with a nod, coming to a stop at the entrance of the tunnel and peering into the darkness inside where Batu and Kaysan waited for the right moment. They were to draw the attention of the soldiers and coax them into attacking first so the flames from their attack ignited the trail leading to the sulfur. Once ignited, the two had to run before the tunnel exploded and the wall fell. Harald raised his battle axe and lightly tapped the bell, the one Batu needed to ring when the plan sprung into action.

"You never were good at waiting, were you?" Leif arched a brow, wrapping his fingers around the bell to stop it from swaying and tolling. A small, playful smile tugged at Harald's lips. "Patience. It won't be long now, friend."

"Patience is hardly one of Harald's best attributes." (Y/N) murmured, a hint of teasing in his voice that drew Harald's lips into a full smile. Harald's hand reached out toward him, his palm pressing over his hip and sliding over his lower back; fingers dipping under the silver armor and pressing into the fabric beneath. His touch always felt protective and safe, but it never failed to fill (Y/N) with a false sense of hope.

"It has always been one of yours, though," Harald spoke softly, his fingertips rubbing the fabric into (Y/N)'s skin affectionately. His eyes crinkled, and despite everything that'd been bubbling up inside (Y/N)'s stomach, he returned the smile. The prince's hand moved to the base of his neck, squeezing the exposed skin there lightly. To any strangers, it may have come across as two close friends merely speaking. But it was simply because Harald couldn't touch his face in public as he desired. "We should speak after the battle, (Y/N). I cannot allow another day to pass without us having a conversation."

Pursing his lips, (Y/N) gave a small nod and wrapped his fingers over Harald's wrist. "Fine, Harald." Harald's features brightened and he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together before he released him as the bell began to toll.

The enemy had fallen right for Leif's trap, just as they had hoped.

Harald clapped Leif's shoulder and trekked back to his post atop a mound of dirt overlooking his army of seven hundred men and women. He began his speech, his words of encouragement riling up the army into cheers and shouts, warrior cries and calls. (Y/N) lingered by the tunnel's entrance, searching the dark for any sign of Batu and Kaysan as the army erupted into more cheers and cries. He spotted movement and Batu emerged, his armor slightly singed and parts of him coated in ash. (Y/N) waited with bated breath for Kaysan, but he never emerged,

"Leif," (Y/N) turned to look at his brother, giving a light shake of his head. Leif's jaw clenched and he inhaled sharply, tossing his axe to Batu and motioning for him to join the others before he entered the tunnel, the darkness swallowing him and voice echoing off the walls until it grew distant and hardly audible.

The cries and war horns sounded off through the valley as the army moved, rushing toward the wall their tunnel had led to. The ground gave a light tremor, and through the darkness, Leif emerged with Kaysan leaning on his body, a trickle of blood seeping down from his temple as dark smoke escaped from within the tunnel. (Y/N) called over one of the healers, helping his brother hand Kaysan off to the older man before the two turned and spotted the wall crumbling into a heap of smoke and dust. General Maniakes' men sprinted into action, following after the Varangians and joining the battle.

"Come!" Leif called to him, taking two axes for himself and running toward the fortress with (Y/N) hot on his heels.

Stepping through the rumble of the fallen wall, all that could be heard were cries of anger and pain, the clashing of metal against metal, and the thumping of rushing footsteps as all armies hurried to fight and defend. (Y/N) moved forward, locking onto the first Saracen soldier he saw and swinging his axe. The soldier blocked with his shield and then pulled it away to thrust his sword forward, but (Y/N) anticipated the attack and dodged, raising his axe and embedding the blade into the side of the soldier's throat.

Taking the shield for himself, (Y/N) used it to block attacks from other soldiers, shoving them back and into expecting Varangians who struck the soldiers down with cries and heaves. The first wave of soldiers fell easily and (Y/N) heard Harald's victory cry sound off throughout the air, the tight crowd dispersing throughout the fortress to attack, take, and conquer as they made their way to the castle. The people residing within the walls had quickly fled to the castle for sanctuary, leaving the place largely deserted apart from the second and then the third wave of soldiers.

By the time they reached the castle gates, Emperor Romanos had joined them, and with his appearance came a plea for parley that momentarily stopped the fighting. (Y/N) found his way to Leif, standing beside him and Dorn as the gates into the castle slowly parted, revealing soldiers inside and the people that'd taken refuge watching from windows or along the roofs. Their ruler, the Emir of Syracuse, waited in the center, clad in clothes and robes of gold and black. He walked forward, and despite his city having been sacked, his face remained unreadable.

"Emir," Emperor Romanos spoke, "We have reached your barbican and taken your city. Your castle is surrounded. I have come to ask for your surrender, to save your people unnecessary suffering and death." Leif stepped forward, beginning to repeat his words in Arabic but the Emir raised his hand to stop him.

"A translator is not necessary. I understand you perfectly." He said, waving Leif off before he turned his attention back to Emperor Romanos, his dark eyes studying the shorter man before him. "There will be no surrender. As we speak, a great Saracen army is on its way from Cairo and Alexandria to join us. When it arrives it will be you who is surrounded and destroyed."

"For your sake, you should hope it arrives soon." Emperor Ramons responded.

There seemed to be a certain smugness that passed over the Emir's features, finally breaking the serious stare. "We are not worried. We have food and supplies to last us many months."

"But no water." Leif piped up, and the smugness promptly vanished, the furrow in Emir's brows disappearing and the corner of his lips turning downwards. "Syracuse has six wells. I diverted water from five. Your supply will last a week at most."

At that, Emperor Romanos grinned. "Perhaps your allies will reach you and destroy us before that happens, or perhaps they won't and..." His eyes raised and dragged over the people watching and listening, amongst them women and frightened children. The Emir's head turned and (Y/N) followed his line of sight to a woman with three children at her side, all of various ages. His wife and children, he assumed. "Syracuse will perish. But either way.. many will die. And all will suffer."

"Then I offer another solution," The Emir said, tearing his attention away from his family to look back at them. "Single combat between two fighters. If you are victorious, Sycaruse is yours and you have my promise that my warriors will not retaliate. If you lose, you must depart and not return. Either way, my people must not be harmed."

"And who would your warrior be?" The Emperor inquired with a slight tilt of his head. (Y/N) glanced toward Harald, and then General Maniakes. The brutal, hate-filled man had hardly done much to win his ruler's approval over the last days, at least in comparison to Harald who'd handed him the fortress on a golden platter with little trouble. The Emperor himself would never fight, but he'd certainly unleash his favorite dog on the enemy.

"Me," Emir answered icily. "And yours?"

"I fight for the empire." General Maniakes deep voice rumbled as he stepped forward but Emperor Romanos raised his hand to stop him, shaking his head and turning to look over his shoulder at Harald. The corners of his lips twisted up into a smile, one that made General Maniakes scowl and glare viciously at Harald.

"You will fight my Varangian." Emperor Romanos responded, striding forward toward the Emir and giving a dip of his head. "And you have my promise. Your people will not be harmed and our agreement, honored."

(Y/N) remained silent the walk back to camp, his gaze bouncing between the floor and staring holes into the back of Harald's head as they entered Leif's tent alongside the others. He approached the basin and dipped a rag inside, roughly wiping his hands and face clean to distract himself from his churning mind. He could feel the irritation creeping up his back, an annoyance he couldn't quite pin on anyone. Batu sharpened Harald's axe in thought, the sound filling the silence while Kaysan helped Harald adjust his armor.

"If we were in Novgorod, I could sell a thousand seats and make enough to retire," Batu said and laughed heartily, his words only reminding (Y/N) of the countless times Harald had thrown himself into battle without thinking. He scarcely had good memories of Novgorod, and the ones he remembered vividly were of Harald bloody and battered.

Without thinking, (Y/N) sent Batu a glare sharp enough to get his friend to hurriedly clamp his mouth shut and wince. He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes, subtly motioning for Kaysan and him to make their exit. Kaysan nodded and stood up from his stool, giving Harald a pat on the shoulder as Batu handed him his axe back and smiled encouragingly before the two quickly slipped out of the tent; leaving Harald alone with the two brothers.

"We can select three weapons. I'll start with the battle axe." Harald spoke, approaching the weapon's table and setting the axe alongside the rest. (Y/N) inhaled deeply through his nose and rubbed his fingertips against his temple to soothe the beginnings of a headache away before it could consume him. Leif remained equally as silent and it finally made Harald cave. "You're both quiet, which means you're either angry or worried about something. Perhaps both."

"I worry you underestimate him," Leif revealed with a sigh, raising his head to look at his friend with a growing frown. Harald scoffed, his brows furrowing as his eyes darted between the two brothers, almost as if offended they'd doubt him. (Y/N) squeezed the water out of the rag and set it aside to dry, finally looking up at the prince.

"I underestimate no man who's trying to kill me." Harald retorted, turning his irritated stare onto the weapons spread out in front of him. "We'll both be fighting for our lives."

"No, only you will be." Leif's lips formed a grim line, feet moving slowly as he approached his friend and motioned in the direction of the castle. "He is fighting for his people."

"As am I-"

"What people? Yours or Romanos's?" Leif questioned him sharply, arching his brows and drawing a scowl from Harald. (Y/N) leaned his hip back against the table, his arms folding over his stomach. Harald and his short temper... it was a mystery how the man had lived for so long without getting himself killed.

"I fight today for the same reason I've been fighting for the last seven years! For treasure." It stung, even if (Y/N) had seen it coming, piercing his stomach and sucking him dry of the false hope. "So I can return to Norway and assume the throne of my people, which is rightfully mine. Nothing else."

"I am glad to hear my brother and I are hardly considered things you fight for, Harald, after we've spent the last seven years fighting and living in a foreign country for you." (Y/N) seethed, and the tension in Harald's shoulders disappeared, his eyes squeezing shut and a silent curse forming on his lips. His chest heaved with a sigh and he stepped past Leif, his arm extending to grab him but (Y/N) smacked it away with a scoff. "I can understand caring little for a bedmate but Leif deserves to be someone you fight for after everything he's done for you."

"A bedmate- (Y/N), I-"

"Enjoy your fight, General." (Y/N) shoved past him forcibly and rounded the table before Harald could attempt to stop him. He threw the flaps of the tent apart and stepped out into the sunlight, taking a sharp inhale of the fresh air to calm the fury and hurt dancing along his veins. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his dagger, allowing himself to take a few more steadying breaths.

He'd made the right decision years prior, he reminded himself. Harald proved it to him time after time. He just needed a reminder every once in a while, even if it hurt.

(Y/N) avoided looking in Harald's direction once he finished preparing for the fight, only focusing on following Emperor Romanos into the castle where they'd set up an area for the fight. He broke away from the Emperor's tight crowd to stand behind the table where Batu placed Harald's other two choices of weapon: a smaller battle axe and a sword, with the larger battle axe being the one he walked into the makeshift arena with.

"He didn't mean to say it like that," Leif said quietly, always the one forced to make peace between them. (Y/N) pursed his lips and clasped his hands in front of himself, his fingers wrapping tightly around his palm. "I know you called yourself a bedmate to hurt him, (Y/N). You've seen how desperate he's been these past three years; you've seen how he gets when he hears you have a new lover. You are much more to him than that."

"But not enough to desire a different destiny for himself." Leif fell quiet at that, his softened eyes gazing into the side of his brother's face before he sighed softly and looked forward toward the two fighters when they entered the arena and assumed their positions. Despite his lingering hurt, worry jabbed at his stomach for Harald.

Harald moved first, swinging his axe upward to knock back the Emir's sword, but the Emir moved swiftly, turning on his feet and facing Harald before he could turn around. Harald's jaw ticked and he studied his opponent, switching which hand held the axe before he charged again, grasping the axe with both hands and taking a few swings at him; metal clanging through the air as the Emir swiftly blocked each swing with his sword until Harald turned his axe and slammed the blunt end against his chest, forcing him back a few steps.

The Emir grunted and grabbed Harald's axe, shoving it back and mimicking his movement as he slammed the handle of his sword repeatedly into Harald's chest which forced Harald to stumble backward and just barely dodge a swing from the sword. The Emir charged, giving Harald hardly any time to dodge another swing but he managed to duck down in time and create some distance between them to reassess his approach. The Emir sneered, baring his teeth and grasping the handle of his sword with both hands. He was a good fighter, as all rulers had to be.

Harald charged again, slamming the end and top of his axe repeatedly against the Emir's side before slamming the top near his armpit and forcing him back roughly against the stone wall. The Emir released a shout at the impact and shoved the axe away, slashing his sword at Harald and missing his chest plate by an inch or so. Harald swung again, only for his axe to slam into the wall and break in half, leaving him without a weapon.

With the half still in hand, he managed to defend himself by blocking the Emir's attacks as he sprang and walked backward toward the table. He threw the broken piece at the Emir's head, nearly hitting his ear, and swiftly turned on his heel to snatch both weapons from the table. He faced the Emir once more, eyes narrowing when the Emir approached his own table and took two new swords into his hands. They stared at each other for a brief moment, catching their breaths.

The Emir charged first with a cry - perhaps growing emboldened with the trickle of blood seeping from Harald's brow - and swung both his swords at him relentlessly, turning and swinging as he followed Harald's quick dodges. Harald nearly sank his axe into the Emir's face in a quick turn but the Emir dodged it in time. They continued back and forth, swinging and dodging hits from each other with grunts and cries. They moved viciously and relentlessly, switching between fighting offensively and defensively within seconds as they grew more enraged and desperate for a win.

Harald managed to swipe at the Emir's feet and knock him onto the gravelly ground, the Emir's foot rising up quickly to slam into Harald's knee and knock him down into a kneeling position. The Emir moved onto his knees as well, the blows they swung at each other forcing them to remain kneeling until the Emir launched himself forward and Harald threw himself backward, both men rolling along the floor. Harald moved onto his side and attempted to stab the Emir in the side with his sword but the Emir slashed right through the blade, leaving him with a sword resembling a knife.

The two men scrambled upright and assessed each other again, sucking in large gulps of air and staring each other down. Harald switched the way he held his broken sword and the swing-block dance resumed until Harald swung at the Emir's and was cut just above the elbow. He released a cry of pain and sound around, wincing as he touched his bleeding arm before looking up at his opponent. The Emir stared at Harald, his breathing turning wheezy and his feet staggering. (Y/N) caught the gleam of the broken sword jammed right below the Emir's armpit.

The Emir raised his arm and stumbled forward again, a look of distraught passing over his features as he fell to his knees and slumped forward. While Emperor Romanos's men erupted into cheers of victory, (Y/N) couldn't help but look in the direction of the Emir's wife, watching the tears stream helplessly down her face. Her husband had fought bravely, not just for his people but for her and their children. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek.

His father had fought and killed countless of men, simply because he could and felt like it, but at least in Greenland, when you killed a man it was because it was necessary. For food, shelter, to defend your family. But in Constantinople, they took lives to make an emperor richer. They killed for treasure they hardly used, and for little else.

(Y/N) grimaced. He missed home.

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