#oc: cernunnos

[memeticsdivision]

ive been drawing Exclusively my ocs for like the past year i just have never posted Any Of It so heres an art dump of my blorbos for my main story . will try to post them more and i'll probably talk about them a little on this blog but for now enjoy

tdlr guy (the one with long hair) (his name is fenris) gets a little too sad about his messed up life and doesn't like it so he represses all of it and oops! accidentally creates a bunch of monsters based off of his fears and traumas and plops them all in the town he used to live in. and one of them happens to be a copy of him (thing with deer skull and inverted colors . their name is cernunnos) and has mad beef w/ him. also one of them is a copy of his mom (The Woman, her name is mor) and she is somehow crazy parasocial about him. also hes in a death time loop. its like silent hill but if characters told each other to kill themselves more

you can read more about them here

(some silly little shitposts under the cut)

[cait-sith]

October 2023, Day 18: Antlers/Horns

Forgiveness.

[siffarooni]

extremely rare colorful art for once! i'm helping revive a modern fantasy discord rp and my oc Cain is the main guy i'll be playing! so i had to put them in their house (the rainforest)

[lostpeace]

-Thoth, Egyptian god of knowledge, the sciences, and death.

-Tyche, Greek goddess of destiny, daughter of Zeus the Liberator.

-Cernunnos

[latenitewaffles]

Meet Cernunnos, The son of Saint Macuil, as well as Mortala and Begalta! Or as he goes by around humans, Fionn. He's a combat instructor at the Officer's Academy and a Knight of Seiros who typically acts as Rhea's bodyguard. An extroverted and sweet man, Fionn's known for giving people pep talks after being reprimanded by Catherine and taking on more squires than anyone else ever has. He's got the Crest of Cernunnos, and is the only person to have ever had it; in fact, it's barely recorded in history.

Age: ~1700 (Academy/War); Is constantly mistaken as being 18-20 and doesn't correct anyone. Born on the 16th of the Verdant Rain Moon.

Height: 6'3" - 190cm

War Monk

Crest of Cernunnos

Strengths: Faith, Brawling, Axe

Weaknesses: Riding

Close Allies: Seteth, Flayn, Alois

Likes: The Four Saints, helping people, storms

Dislikes: Horses, people sacrificing themselves for him, screaming

More Info Below and Design Notes below! (TW; Mentions of parent death)

Like most Nabateans, Cernunnos lived in Zanado with his parents; Macuil and Begalta, his fathers, and Mortala, his mother. One day, the village was raided by those who would soon be known as the Ten Elites, and many Nabateans were slaughtered. Begalta and Mortala were no exception, killed by Riegan and Fraldarius respectively. Cernunnos was chased down by some bandits and almost killed as well, until he was rescued by Cichol. He was roughly 500 at the time, the Nabatean equivalent of 8 for a human.

Though Seiros had intended on making him a Saint, Macuil loudly objected. After all, the man had just lost his husband and wife; making his son a Saint would just put a larger target on his head, and Macuil didn't want to lose him too. Regardless, Cernunnos still fought in the War of Heroes and quickly became known as a force of nature on the battlefield despite his small stature and (relatively) young age. Humans for the most part had a hard time dealing with the fact that they were being shown up by a child; Macuil took mild pride in it whenever he wasn't worried sick.

Then, after a battle, Cernunnos was getting healed by Cethleann after receiving a particularly nasty injury, they were ambused by the Elite Riegan; Cethleann jumped in front of her younger cousin, taking the hit from Riegan's arrow. Cernunnos went into a rage, transforming into The Stormbringer (his dragon form), and proceeding to rip Riegan to shreds. Despite managing to stabilize Cethleann and constantly being told by his other family that it wasn't his fault, Cernunnos constantly blames himself for what happened and took on a healer role to "make it up to Cethleann".

After the War of Heroes, Cernunnos followed his father to Sreng and stayed there for the coming centuries, developing an incredibly jovial mask to hide the pain he still felt from the War and Zanado. This clashed heavily with Macuil becoming more and more bitter, until it eventually resulted in a falling out where Cernunnos ran away to live at the Monastery in Imperial Year 937, taking on the name Fionn and joining the Knights of Seiros.

Fun Facts and Design Notes!

His Sacred Weapon is called the Fists of Nemea. They have a built-in 3 pointed twisting blade.

He's met many nobles across the 3 countries and has dirt on several people's ancestors

One of the houses he doesn't have dirt on is House Bergliez; One of Caspar's ancestors, Emmeline von Bergliez, was a squire of his.

Avid reader of legends and a big fan of a particular story called "The Shadows of Valentia".

Balthus and Rodrigue both recognize him from their Academy days and are both floored that he looks nearly identical. Catherine does too, but knows his secret.

He considered Sitri his cousin. When she died, he took a long break from the Knights of Seiros.

While both depicted designs are based on the War Monk, the Academy/War design mixes it with Seteth's outfit and the War of Heroes design mixes it with the Sothis Regalia.

His hair is meant to resemble a mix of Chrom and Cloud Strife's hairstyles.

His War of Heroes design puts him at around 600, roughly the equivalent of a human 13 year old. Why did I choose to make Nabatean aging weird? Idk.

The Stormbringer is meant to simultaneously look Wolfish, Birdlike, and Draconic.

The Crest of Cernunnos is associated with the Adjustment Arcana (Alternative Justice Arcana. If you know me you know why) and is known as the "Cloud Dragon Sign".

The Crest of Cernunnos has a slight chance of healing adjacent units the same amount as the target unit.

[kdmerchant]

A character I've been working into my book Walking The Inbetween. Celtic lore is woven into a strange witchy tale.

Hope you like him!

[n0valtine]

Ok now onto the second main character in the Primwood and Eowyn's love interest!

Here's Findley MacLaoghaire (finnd-lee mahk-lee-ruh)!He's a cerunnia (keh-roo-nyuh), one of the races I made up that's part deer part human inspired by the Celtic god, Cernunnos. Findley's very much a himbo with few thoughts in his head and very much whimsy and joy in his heart. He works on his family's farm up in the outskirts of the northern town of Dyrehirst. He'll run errands which often brings him down to Primsbrough.

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 20

Birthday: October 5th

Again, I'd love to hear any questions about him that anyone has!!

[lovevalekai]

Gods and goddesses of every mythology Part 1

Tlaloc (God of Rain and Lightning) Mexica

Changeable Woman (The Cycle of Life Unto Death) Navajo

Cernunnos (god of fertility and beasts) Celtic

Dewi sri (Goddess of Fertility and Rice ) Javanese and Sondanes

[astarofthevoid]

character art for my comic characters i did a while ago

number relating to order. name || pronouns || House || extra. 1. Lilly || She/Her || Spirit Dorms || MC of the comic, a force of chaos 2. Quinn || They/Them || Spirit Dorms || Head of Spirit dorms Lilly's bff, chill chaos 3. [Left] Zoey || She/Her || Air Dorms || Hunter's twin, bffs with Lilly, a forth wall breaker, nerd [Right] Hunter || He/Him || Fire Dorms || Zoey's twin, bffs with Lilly, a secret nerd 4. Lucas || He/Him || Water Dorms || Lilly's love interest/friend, left is how lilly meets him before coming out, the right is after (a little further into the story), Extravert extraordinaire

[memeticsdivision]

i watched donnie darko the other night.

[cait-sith]

Team Werewolves, of course.

Come attack me!

[willtheweaver]

Earth Day themed prompts

• “Listen team. This next mission does not promise much pay, but it probably is the most important one of all. We’re to be deployed to the rainforest, and we’re going to stay there until there are absolutely zero illegal loggers, miners, and poachers left.”

• These city folk will soon learn why they should never cross a Druid.

• Character wishes to become immortal. When asked why, they respond “I am the last guardian of nature. A world without nature would be a sad place.”

• OC Solarpunk AU

• A story of a species brought back from extinction.

• Your mother was Demeter, your father was Cernunnos.

• Character is one of the first pioneers. Their mission: leave the shelter and repair the Earth so that one day it will be habitable again.

• You find yourself in a void. All there is beside yourself is a mound of dirt, a cup of water, and a seed. A voice coming from everywhere tells you “build a world, see it come alive and grow.”

[latenitewaffles]

[Post-Rhea Loredump]

Claude: Fionm! Or... Cernunnos, I suppose. Can I speak with you for a moment?

Fionn: Uh, yeah. I'm not sure I like my real name coming out of your mouth, though. Just keep calling me Fionn.

Claude: Sure, yeah. So. You're a Nabatean... a Child of the Goddess?

Fionn: More like great-something grandchild, but yes.

Claude: Can I ask about your parentage? Other than Saint Macuil, of course.

Fionn: Sure. I had two other parents as well. A woman named Mortala gave birth to me, and I had a second father named Bergalta.

Claude: Wait, Mortala and Bergalta? As in, the Sword of Mortala and the Sword of Bergalta?

Fionn: The very same. My father forged them with Uncle Indech's help, as something to propose to the both of them with.

Claude: So... why do they react to the Crests of Fraldarius and Reigan specifically?

Fionn: Simple. Fraldarius and Reigan killed Mortala and Bergalta, drank their blood to obtain their crests, and stole their bones to make Aegis and Failnaught.

Claude: Wait, so-

Fionm: You and Felix have been wielding the desecrated corpses of my parents, yes.

Claude: Oh, Goddess, and you've KNOWN the entire time?! I'm so sorry.

Fionn: Don't be, it's not your fault. Besides. I ripped Reigan apart myself.

Claude: That sounds suspiciously like a threat.

Fionn: It's not, my vengeance was already taken. Besides! You're my pal.

[kdmerchant]

Wip of one of my own characters

He is a take on Cernunos.

I hope I can pull off what I see

[practically-an-x-man]

okay I LOVED this!!!

the "time of the month" joke made me laugh so much, plus all the references to Pan's Labyrinth and Magic: The Gathering and everything else. Your writing style is a delight!

And I absolutely ADORE that you implemented Celtic gods too! I guessed that it was Cernunnos as soon as you mentioned the antlers, and the description of the avatar is so unfathomably cool I can't. And the inclusion of Irish Gaelic too! (fun fact: in Scottish Gaelic, deer is "fèidh", but "beag" still means small or little)

This was such a unique concept, and I LOVE the blend of mild horror and soft comfort. It was a delight to read!

Oh, Little Horned One of the Old Oak Tree

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: Becoming the avatar of an ancient Celtic god came with some unforeseen side affects; side affects which you are yet to tell Steven about.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, slight body horror if you squint, Steven is a ridiculously supportive boyfriend in the face of fuckery and we love him for it

a/n: giving the reader a supportive avatar because it's what they deserve

It's not that you hadn't tried to clean the blood, you'd done your best. But it stained the tips of your fingers and left the porcelain tiles of the bathroom a dark red.

You weren't entirely sure where it had all come from, but the damp, matted hair surrounding where the antlers had sprouted from your head served as a good indicator.

It shouldn't be happening, not yet. You had at least another fortnight till the next eclipse, (if your notes were anything to go by.) But you knew the moment your muscles began to ache and your bones began to creak that it was indeed happening, and it wasn't going to stop regardless of how upset it made you.

You'd tried to call Jake. Then Marc. But you didn't want to risk Steven answering the phone.

The bathroom was the closest refuge you could find and as it would seem it was far from the most ideal of places. You'd torn down the shower curtain in your haste to hide and all but shattered the delicate tiles beneath your feet.

The mirror had also fallen victim to your havoc, an almost artistically applaudable webbed crack spreading out from the centre of the glass where your elbow had made contact. A handful of rouge shards littered the floor and made quick work of slicing open your palm.

You glared at the offending piece of glass before picking it out of your hand and throwing it across the room with enough force that it was embedded in the opposite wall like a well-aimed dart.

You could still make out your reflection through the broken glass pane. Antlers sprouting from the crown of your head, winding off in all different directions. There was a pale glow to your eyes and ruins and ancient symbols wrapped around your arms and the expanse of your chest. And if your abundance of new features hadn't already qualified you for your own Magic: The Gathering card, you'd also doubled in height.

This would be a fucking delight to explain.

You took a moment to thank the gods for Stevens's late shift at the museum before steadying yourself with a deep breath.

You'd felt every bit of it; the stretching, twisting and growing of entirely new bones. And if the persistent pain in your chest and spine was anything to go by you figured it was far from over.

You could hear the deep, resonant voice of your deity, distant and far off, like rushing water over rock. His words were gruff and shaped by his accent as he apologized profusely; and as ego-boosting as it was having an eldritch being admit defeat and practically beg for your forgiveness, you found yourself in too much pain to truly enjoy the moment.

“Cernunnos,” you cursed the god's name.

Your legs were still crammed uncomfortably against your chest and the bathroom door whilst your antlers continued to do a glorious job of scrapping the paint job off the ceiling.

Another wave of pain hit, burning through your veins and seizing hold of your lungs. You coughed and spluttered, each attempt at a breath snagging in your throat like leaves catching on dead branches. The horrid sensation of shifting bones hit your chest and you doubled over with a hiss.

“Please make it stop.”

“I'm sorry, fia beag,” (little deer) the god said, his reflection appearing in the mirror shards. His antlers filled out the frame, putting your own to shame and his eyes, (despite, like the rest of his body, being those of a stag, which as far as species go aren't the most emotionally expressive��) were almost apologetic. “I've tried my best, I asked Manannan to reverse the tides to change the lunar phase and buy us time but it's too late.”

It was heartwarming really; how Cernnunos cared so much, enough to ask a fellow god to inconvenience the entire ocean all in the name of saving your love life. You were glad to have him, even if he was the reason you were going through pain worse than fucking childbirth.

“I'm sorry.” The god's ears flattened against his head and you wondered if you'd said the last part aloud.

“What's the point of all this again?” You'd shifted before but it was never irregular and never this bad.

“A thousand years ago my worshipers adored when my avatar arrived at Imbolc in this form!” Cernnunos sounded excited.

“So it was to show off?”

“To make the people feel seen and protected,” he countered.

“And it's something I have to go through because–?”

The god was quiet for a moment. “Old habits die hard?”

Cernnunos had off-handedly mentioned (downright bragged) about the pact he'd made with the moon sometime before the construction of Newgrange. That his avatar would be gifted with a godly form the night of each lunar eclipse. You weren't well versed in ancient deals between eldritch beings but apparently, it's not the kind of agreement you can back out of a millennia down the line.

And apparently, another moon-related god had initiated an eclipse two weeks ahead of schedule. (your money was on Khonshu over Artemis.)

“It will be alright, little one,” Cernnunos promised. It was soothing having him near, but he tended to have that effect. With him, you were like a fawn, comforted by the knowledge that it was protected by its elder. “Besides, it's not as though this night could get much worse for us.”

Almost comedically, the struggle of key in lock sounded and then the front door opened.

You and the god stared at each other, quite literally, like deers in headlights.

“Love? I'm home–”

Steven's voice sent your flight, fight, freeze response to full throttle and you beckoned for Cernnunos to leave as quietly and frantically as you could. The god seemed reluctant, but another chorus of a British accent from the other side of the door and he relented.

The glass rippled like water on a lake and then he was gone.

You could hear Steven moving around the flat, carrying out his usual routine of removing his name tag, unbuttoning his over shirt and tossing his bag on the couch.

You held your breath when the floorboards of the bedroom creaked and silently prayed he'd just call it a night in favour of finding you hiding in the bathroom looking like something straight from Pans Labyrinth. When he called out for you again you sent your head back against the wall with enough force to crack the tiles.

“Love, you alright?” There was three gentle raps on the door. “Darling?”

“I'm fine,” the words were unsteady. And had your voice gotten deeper?

There was a beat of silence outside the door then, “You don't sound fine.”

“I'm just not feeling great,” you managed. Just go, Steven. Please just go.

“Oh, darling, are you sick? Here let me–” The terrifying sight of the door handle turning caused your heart to almost hammer out of your chest. You rushed to press your foot against it and watched in horror as the timber split right down the middle. The door was barely clinging to the hinges.

You could hear Steven's shock on the other side of the door, a string of curses followed suit. “Y/N–”

“Just leave it, Steven!” you bit out. You hadn't meant for the words to sound so animalistic, so angry. But the only thing currently preventing your life from crumbling was a splintering door and your refusal to move your foot. You were allowed to be rash, you thought.

“Alright, you're scaring me now–”

The universe really wasn't letting up with its ironies today.

The wooden door panels creaked and splintered as Steven tried to open it from the outside. You kept your foot firmly pressed to the middle, but as the hinges began to groan you felt the sturdiness give way. It felt like you had your foot against a wet piece of tissue paper; you were going to tear right through it.

With one more shove from Steven's side, you were forced to surrender.

The door swung open with truly theatrical measure and Steven stumbled in behind it. Instinctually, you pushed yourself against the back wall, forgetting your new height and putting your head through the ceiling as you did.

Chaos is too kind of a word for what followed.

The sound that left Steven fell somewhere between a startled shout and a scream of genuine terror. You reached out and Steven fired back, his feet tying themselves in knots and sending him to the floor.

You struggled to pull your head out of the crater you'd left in the roof. A fine layer of debris and dust covered you and somewhat important-looking wires were strung across your antlers like poorly hung Christmas lights.

Almost on cue, the bathroom light flickered twice and came away from the ceiling, ending up in several pieces on the floor.

The dark apparently did nothing in making you look less menacing as Steven continued to voice his fears. And loudly at that. He hadn't moved, still frozen to the spot just outside the door.

“Steven, please–” you crawled forward at a snail's pace, each movement purposely slow.

He watched you with frantic eyes, his heart hammering like a rabbit against his chest. You'd never seen him so scared.

As he clambered to his feet, you dared to inch closer, but it was the opinion of the shattered tiles beneath your feet that you weren't moving nearly fast enough. You slipped on the porcelain shards and were all but thrown in Steven's direction.

Your rack broke your fall by all but embedding the tips of each spike in the wall surrounding the door frame. You'd put your head through so much wood and plaster in the past few minutes you were beginning to sympathize with mounted deer heads.

Steven was staring now, expression boarding on mild fear and absolute confusion. Then, his eyes flicked to the broken mirror behind you, and then his reflection in the mirror to his right.

Marc and Jake had taken their sweet time.

Steven looked between you, the mirror and the window and then back at you. Then it visibly clicked.

“Oh, oh my gods, Y/N you, you're-” he swallowed. “-what's happening?”

“It's my time of the month.” The joke went down like a led balloon. Steven swayed on his feet.

“Steven, are you alright?”

“Yeah, sort of. No, not really.”

You craned your neck as far as your current predicament would allow for. “Are you going to pass out?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” you said the word beneath your breath. He hadn't run which, all things considered, meant this was going fairly well. Even from the awkward angle you were stuck in you could feel his eyes on you, shifting from one monstrous feature to the next, lingering on the markings and the fucking antlers and the–

“Love, you have blood– you're bleeding.” And just like that, a flip switched in Steven's mind at the sight of you wounded. This man was a true enigma and a wonderful one at that. “Here–”

He approached and then almost immediately hesitated, bouncing back on his heel the moment you shifted.

You weren't exactly a threatening sight, shoulders wedged in the door frame, covered in dust and splintered wood and head practically pinned to the wall. You looked like a drunk stag that had lost a fight to a tree.

Steven shook himself and stepped close enough that your laboured breaths ruffled his curls. He was doing an admirable job of hiding the fact that he was shaking.

“Alright, bloody hell um–” He regarded the situation and then nodded. “I'll push, you pull.”

Steven braced his hands against your shoulders and you grabbed hold of the door frame. It's not that you needed the extra help; out of all the things you'd conquered whilst serving as an avatar freeing yourself from a plaster wall ranked fairly low on that list.

But Steven was touching you in this form, his palms pressed to your broadened shoulders and you weren't about to jinx it.

The wall cracked and fissured as you freed yourself, several deep punctures left where your antlers had been. You twisted and manoeuvred your way out of the bathroom until you could straighten up to your full height.

Thank god Steven lived on the top floor. Higher ceilings.

“Okay, woah–” Steven took several steps back as you stood. You towered over him, antlers bleeding into darkened shadows against the ceiling. Okay, now 'intimidating' might be a more fitting word.

You lowered yourself to your knees in an attempt to seem less frightening. Now that you were eye to eye, Steven could see the worry in your expression as you regarded him softly.

“It's alright. I'm adjusting,” he said, voice still trembling. “Just need a quick adjustment period...”

A dry cloth sat folded on the counter beside him, as well as a box of plasters with 'good job!' written across each one.

You gave him time and let him lead.

And that's how you ended up in the kitchen, legs crossed as you sat on the floor whilst Steven sat on the counter in front of you. He held a wet flannel in his hand, droplets of water creeping down his arm.

It was as if his rationality was being overridden by his need to care for you as well as his overall steveness.

Steven dabbed the crown of your head gently, his hands shaking as he did. There was still a dull ache where the antlers had sprouted. Steven rung out the flannel over the sink and the sight of the blood running through his fingers and over his knuckles made you feel ill. His hands were always so soft, they weren't meant to be stained with blood.

You blinked as a small trail of blood seeped from your head and trailed down between your brows. Steven diligently stopped the flow with the cloth and clean you up. Your nose twitched at the dampness of the cloth and Steven smiled.

The first smile you'd seen all night.

His actions slowed, hand stilling as he watched you. Beneath the pale glow of your eyes there was something so familiar. He smiled again.

“Hiya love,” the words were so soft they made you feel warm.

“Hi.”

You raised your arms, the markings and symbols on your skin catching in the dim light. Your hands circled Steven's wrists gently. He pulled back and for a terrifying moment you thought he'd gone completely; deciding that he'd had enough, that you were too much like this and he was drawing the boundary line here.

Instead, he dropped the blood-stained flannel in the sink basin and held his hand back against yours, palms pressed together. It was an adorable comparison. The tips of his fingers barely brushed the top of your palm, in fact, you were certain you could close your hand over the entirety of his own. There was a moment shared in comfortable silence then Steven asked, “Y/N, what is going on?”

The question was gentle and filled with wonder. There was still a trace of a smile on his lips. It made you feel like you could finally tell him.

“Avatar stuff. I suppose my god is a little more... flamboyant than yours.”

Steven laughed and the sound comes as a relief. “Khonshu didn't want to give me the time of day, let alone a– a bloody godly alter ego.”

A beat of silence.

“Did it hurt?”

It was heartwarming that that was his next question.

“A little,” you answered somewhat honestly. “But I'm alright now.”

He finished cleaning you up in a peaceful silence. He took the time to wash the blood from your hair as best he could and plaster your injured hand, (for the emotional boost more than anything.) It took several plasters to cover the expanse of the wound, each overlapping so the supportive catchphrase now read 'good good job good.'

He sat in front of you now, having spent the last few minutes tracing the spirals and patterns on your arm. His earlier fear had completely given way to wonder; it wasn't easy to forget that the man was a mythology nerd through and through.

A boyish laugh crept past his lips. “I wonder how Marc and Jake will react.” He looked up at you to gouge a reaction and his smile fell slightly. “Oh.”

“Steven–” you scratched the back of your neck. This was going to be a bitch to explain. “-Jake only knows because... well–” you made a vague motion with your hands that the four of you had come to recognize meant 'Jake.'

Steven nodded in understanding.

“And Marc just sort of found out by accident.”

Steven nodded again and you could visibly see the process going on behind his eyes.

“And um– why didn't any of you tell me?” His voice adopted a higher pitch at the end of the question, likely in an attempt to take the edge off.

You took a sudden interest in the floorboards. “I didn't want to– you know.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Steven gasped.

“Oh, oh love, you didn't think... you didn't think I'd be scared did you?”

A quick exhale of amusement from you. “You seemed fairly scared.”

“I- well yeah, yeah.” He conceded. “But not of you. Never of you.” His hands found yours again, the staggering difference in size almost humorous. “I just wish you could have felt like you could have told me, that's all.”

A warmth settled in the centre of your chest and you felt the corner of your eyes dampen. Any attempt of yours to not cry was immediately foiled as he inched closer and put his arms around your neck. His knees bucked against your crossed legs and he sank against your chest.

“For what it's worth,” you smiled against the crown of his head. “I think your reaction probably ranks highest out of the three.”

“Yeah?” He asked lightly. His curls tickled the end of your nose.

“Yeah. Jake used some pretty colourful language, most of it was in Spanish. And Marc pulled a gun on me–”

“He pulled a gun on you–?!” With the exclamation, Steven shot back to look at you.

“Like I said, you take first place.”

“Well, the bar wasn't set awfully bloody high was it?” He glared at his reflection in the kettle and you smirked, closing your arms around him and caging him to your chest. There was something so soothing, so primally comforting about being able to hold him, hold all of him, like this.

You nuzzled against his chocolate curls and to anyone on the outside looking in the action would have looked downright primal. Animalistic. But it couldn't have felt more intimate.

“I could get used to this, I think.” Steven's words were barely above a breath. “You're just a big teddy bear, really. More of you to love.”

His hands slowly and deliberately retraced your shoulder, then your neck, down the expanse of your chest... “What do the patterns mean?”

“Some of the symbols stand for attributes or characteristics; strength, courage, loyalty,” you regarded your arm, from your bicep down to your wrist. “Some of them are his symbols, some he added when I agreed to be his avatar and others, I've never really taken the time to find out–”

Steven hummed, not in a dismissive sense, rather in a way that showed he'd listened to each word like the gospel.

“I've got a book on ruins and ancient symbols, only bought the thing for the hieroglyphics really but maybe we could have a look? Do some homework?” A playful nudge accompanied the last question and you caved. As if you stood much of a chance to begin with.

That's how you ended up laying on the bed, (well, mostly on the bed. Your back was against the headboard and your legs still hung over the edge. Steven straddled your middle, an open book and notepad to his right, a highlighter between his teeth and a marker in his hand. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his brows furrowed as he traced his thumb over a symbol just beneath your collarbone.

You shivered despite yourself.

He'd mapped everything out, using the marker to gently draw on your skin, making connections and jotting down notes. It was like watching a scholar at work and you were honoured to be his study.

“Sorry about the bathroom,” you said rather out of the blue.

Steven glanced up at you, rebellious curls falling against his brow. His confusion melted into gentle amusement. “Don't worry about it, love. Needed redoing anyways, I reckon.”

Then, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world, he went back to his translations.

In a form that most could only phantom in the darkest corners of their imagination and with a god willing to bend the seas and skies at your will, Steven Grant somehow remained among both the most curious and most cherished things you had.

Key ➳

Cernnunos - Celtic god of wild things, fertility and animals

Newgrange - famous 5,200 year old passage tomb in Co Meath, Ireland

Manannan - (Manannan Mac Lir) Celtic god of the sea

Imbolc - the Celtic festival that marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It celebrates the return of life and light as it is the time when the ewes come into milk, when the first flowers appear and when the day noticeably lengthens.

‘fia beag’ - gaeilge for ‘little deer’

thank you for reading!

tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife

[aissa-snapped]

The Heathen and the Christian

Ivar the boneless x reader ( OC)

Word count: 3401

SUMMARY:When a young anglo-saxon meets Ivar in the woods, she thinks he is a nice innocent boy, only to be shocked when she finds out who he REALLY is and what he is capable of.

A/N:This is my 2nd time writing with Vikings. I hope yall like it. I am also apologizing for (possible) mistranslations of irish and icelandic. I might do a part two to this series cuz i like how its going. Also not readproof

1-Oh Cernunnos god of the forest bless me and guide me.

2- WAIT

3-That one is mine

4- Do that again and you`re dead

Wandering the woods at this time of the year, gave any passer-by a spectacular and magical scenery. The rays of sunshine were breaking through the branches, illuminating the forest in the most wonderful ways. Summer was without a doubt the best time of the year. The weather was finally favorable for farmers, crops were flourishing and nature was thriving. But there was a downside to it. This season naturally brought along raiding parties coming from the north, with the intention of pillaging and eradicating every village in sight of any gold or treasure.

Villagers were adivsed to be extremely wary of their surroundings, and in case of any suspicious sighting to report to the guards.

Walking out of the small one-room cottage, Frigyth took her woven basket, hanging it on her left arm and took steady steps towards the neighboring woods that surrounded her village. She was a young maiden, '' ready to be married'' according to her parents, who took her tasks very lightly. She came from a typical peasant family, with three other sisters and one brother. She was at that age where she cared more about enjoying life than actually being helpful around the house.

She begged her mother days in a row to let her go harvest some berries from the woods, seeing as that was her only opportunity to explore nature and relax a tad bit. She took her already forming path that led her into a meadow, hidden from view by some on-growing bushes. She found a larger boulder, and took a seat in a dent, placing her basket next to her. She had plenty of time to finish her task, she thought, so for now she could enjoy a little bit of warmth.

Clasping her hands in a prayer-way, she took a glance around her, making sure she was alone, and started chanting an old prayer she used to hear as a child from her grandmother.

Ó Cernunnos Dia na foraoise

beannaigh dom agus treoraigh

mé tríd an bhforaois...

From a small distance, the prayer spoken by the girl was heard by a trespasser, that was lurking around in the woods seeking some alone time. Instead, the stranger took a detour and followed the voice, leading him into the hidden meadow. upon his arrival, he analyzed the young lady up closely, noticing how she had her eyes closed, and was in a vulnerable state. It would`ve been very easy for the young Viking leader to take his dagger out and kill her on the spot, which was what he should be doing, otherwise he risked getting noticed by the saxon girl, who in return would alert the whole village of the presence of Vikings.

Or perhaps he could kidnap her, get any valuable information out of her and THEN kill her. That seemed like a better idea.

The warrior got lost in his thoughts for a few moments that only when he heard the girl gasp did he snap back to the current situation he was in. The young woman that was not so long ago sat in a peaceful position was now standing up, grabbing her basket in front of her, as if she thought it would protect her from the unknown boy. You did not need to be a schooled noble to notice that the stranger`s attire was different from the regular anglo-saxon clothing, and the weapons well secured around the belt hugging his waist were a big tell-tale sign that she had just ran face to face with a Viking.

Frigyth was not sure what she could possibly do to escape this situation. If she ran, would she meet other Vikings? Or perhaps if she yelled for help, the barbarians would much faster come in to the aid of the mysterious boy and do her in. Her mind along with her heart were racing, blood pulsing through her whole body, as if it was preparing for whatever would happen next. Feeling a giddy feeling in her stomach, she spotted her way out, then she got into a running position, one leg in front of the other, slightly leaning on it and being ready to sprint at any given time.

The Viking however, seemed too lost in his tracks to think of what he should do to her. He was observing her. Long, curly hair, with a vibrant color that glimmered in the sun. He felt sort of... entranced by her?

Before he let her go, he wolf whistled at her, gaining her attention. '' I am Ivar.'' He spoke in a very thick anglo-saxon accent. Frigyth did a double-take, not being sure she actually heard him speaking in HER language. While on the outside she remained frozen, her mind was filled with multiple questions. Probably because she has never heard foreigners speak her language- or because she has never faced a norman before.

'' What is your name?'' Asked the Viking in an iritated tone. The young girl was not sure it was a good idea to tell divulge her full identity. But realizing she had no other choice, she defeteadly answered.

'' Frigyth.'' It was a simple and short answer, for which she hoped it would suffice. But by the looks on the warrior, he smirked slowly at her, watching with predator eyes as she was shifting uncomfortably her weight from one foot to the other.

'' What was that prayer you were saying earlier? It did not sound like your language.'' The maiden`s heart started beating at an alarming rate. Deep down she knew, that the prayer she was chanting earlier was considered heresy and it was forbidden among the christians. But it`s not like him, a Viking, would go and tell on her to a guard. After all, weren`t they pagans as well?

'' It`s an ancient language. I was praying to Cernunnos, the god of the forest, fertility. I- It`s forbidden to pray to any other god other than the One True God. But my grandmother used to tell me that the old Gods never left and are ever present.'' She finished, admitting what has been laying in her heart for many years, sighing in happiness when she mentioned her grandmother.

To say Ivar was shocked at the newfound information was an understatement. In all his life, he had never encountered a christian praying to a different deity. He was getting more and more intrigued by the girl, and the logical part of his brain that was constantly nudging him to kill her was shutting down completely.

The young leader-who had previously found a good sitting spot on the grass- nudged his head towards the empty place next to him, indicating to her to take a seat. With careful, calculated steps, she approached him, leaving a few centimetres between them, just in case he was going to strangle her, or who knows what else.

'' So... tell me...'' He trailed off, in hopes that the girl would tell him something about herself.

With frowning brows, she kept silent, waiting for him to continue with a question. Ivar rolled his eyes, and asked her about her family.

'' We`re but a family humble peasants .'' The Viking could tell she loved cutting straight to the chase, not giving out any other detail unless asked.

Gaining all the courage she could muster, she turned slightly towards him, asking the dreaded question.

'' Where did you come from?''

Raising his eyebrows, Ivar chuckled darkly, shaking his head softly.

'' I don`t think you want to know.'' He admitted cynically.

'' Will that get me in trouble?'' She asked shyly.

'' You could say that.'' Smiling softly, Frigyth directioned her eyes to the ground, trying to ignore the burning stares of the curious Viking whose hand was slowly reaching up to her face, pausing for a second and taking a hold of a piece of her hair, and twirling it around his finger -almost lovingly so- which made her flinch for a second, before relaxing back and letting him play with strands of her hair.

The atmosphere between the two was peaceful, even though there was silence, but it was a welcoming one, in which neither felt the need to interrupt it. It was as if an unspoken rule was set. Both simply wanted to sit down and get lost between the thousands of trees and take a break from their societal obligations. Ivar leaned back on his elbows, straightening his legs in front of him, to give them a stretch, which gave the girl a full view of his crippled legs. She widened her eyes in surprise, but quickly gained her composure when she noticed Ivar clenching his jaw in anger, averting her eyes elsewhere.

It felt like they were there for an hour or two, when Frigyth sighed sadly and stood up, clenching the handle of the backet in her left fist and started taking small steps towards the hidden entrance marked by two bushes with a beaten track in between them. Ivar frowned, his eyes following her figure sharply, similar to a wolf following his prey.

'' I should go.'' Looking at her feet, she was swinging the basket slowly in her hand, as if waiting for the boy to stop her from going, although, deep down, she knew she was running behind with her tasks and she was bound to return home eventually, and her mother would not be happy if she came back empty handed.

Ivar nodded stoically, breaking his eyes from the girl and with a loud groan, he rolled onto his back, and began crawling towards the girl, ignoring her stares of bewilderment at his methods of traveling.

'' I should probably go too.'' He responded and begudgingly so.

'' It was nice meeting you.'' Frigyth complimented, with a small voice.

'' We will meet again, christian.'' He winked at her, which caused the maiden to let out a nervous laugh, having no idea what he could have possibly meant by that, and on that note, they both departed their own ways.

Upon her arrival back home, she was welcome by her worried mother, who seemed to have a look of concern mixed with irritation displaying across her face.

'' Where have you been?! It`s almost dark outside. And what is this? This is all you gathered in all this time you were gone?!'' She pointed at her basket, which was barely filled with any berries.

Frigyth shrugged off the hand her mother had placed on her shoulder, sprinting inside the cottage. The one-room hut was warm and all her family was gathered round at the table, chatting lively amongst eachother. Her presence was sensed by her father, and one by one her siblings all paused mid-conversation, to look at the newcomer. Her father smiled warmly at her, motioning with his hand to take a seat next to him.

'' We were wondering when you would come back Frig. Your mother was worrying terribly.'' He laughed, patting her back twice.

'' And I had all the reasons to. You know what they tell us, the priests. The woods are no longer safe.'' Her mother huffed angrily, stepping into the cottage and slamming the door shut, checking the small window incorporated in it for any intruders that might be lurking outside their homes. She took her seat, next to her husband and continued eating her freshly cooked pottage.

Frigyth`s father let out a breath of air, rubbing his face with his face. The rebel daughter rolled her eyes, pretending to be oblivious to what her mother was saying. Should she tell anyone that today she has met and spoken to a possible Viking? If she did, then she would reveal to everyone that she had been slacking rather than actually gathering food for the family, and she risked losing the task she was given, and probably forced to return to her old duties, which were mostly around the cottage. So she took the smarted option, and never mentioned the encounter with the stranger.

'' I know. Aelflead and the other blacksmiths think that we are to prepare for an attack.'' The father confessed sadly.

'' What makes you think that, dad?'' The youngest sibling asked, with her curious natured eyes.

'' Because sweetie, we have been ordered by the king to forge as many swords and shields as fast as we can manage. But when we tried asking the guards why, he refused to tell us. They were all acting suspicious.'' He shrugged, ripping a piece of the wholemeal bread and dipping it in the stew.

Frigyth was starting to get nervous. What if they are about to be attacked? But again, Ivar did not look dangerous. Evenmore, he was crippled. Surely that meant he was maybe thrown out of his tribe and forced to die alone. And even if she decided to tell her family about her encounter, in what way would that help them escape the fury of a Viking raid?

The contact she had with the mysterious boy was what kept her awake most of the night, and by the time her body was exhausted and allowed her to fall asleep, the rooster was already crowing, alerting the family that it was dawn and that meant time to go back to work. However, something felt odd. While Frigyth`s family members were grumbingly getting out of bed, the young maiden heard screams and clanks of swords outside. When realization hit her, she alerted her family to be silent for a second in order for them to pay attention to what might have been going outside.

''Haeddi, take the girls and hide in the barn. Wilfred and I are going outside to see what is happening.'' The father instructed his wife. ''Here, grab this.'' He threw a newly forged seax to his son, and he took an old rusty looking blade for himself, gesturing with his head towards the door. '' Let`s go.'' With one solemn look, Frigyth`s father glanced at his girls, holding a strong and loving eye contact with his wife, silently reassuring her that everything was going to be all right.

When the girls were left alone, Haeddi looked at her daughters, trying to contain the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. '' We`re going outside. Stick close to each other. Once we reach the barn, find a hiding spot. Underneath the hay, behind it. I don`t` know. But do it as fast as you can. We don`t know what awaits us out there.'' The four girls looked at her mother, nodding shakily and following closely behind her towards the door. The mother was counting with her fingers how many seconds they had left before she would open the door and the chaos would start. Frigyth could hear the faint screams of terror coming from the villagers and once the door was open and they started running, everything went in slow motion. The action outside became more vivid. The shrieks and cries of pain were amplified and all of those made the girls run faster than they had ever done so in their entire lives.

Once they safely reached the barn, her mother grabbed the youngest offspring and she chucked them both behind some haystacks. The other two sisters went off climbing on a ladder and finding a safe space to bury in.

Frigyth was looking around, trying to find the first hidin place and duck under it, but to her terror, she was forcefully grabbed by her arm by a very muscular man, that looked like he could eat her alive. She gulped, eyes wide open and heart drumming against her chest, almost as if it was ready to jump out of her chest. He gave her an animalistic smile, that sent shivers down to her spine. Her sisters and mom were watching terrified from the hiding spots how poor Frigyth was going to get killed...or worse.

With an unmatchable force, he turned her around with her back facing him, and raising his axe and readied himself to cut her thin linen dress open, ignoring her pleas and screams to stop, but a powerful voice made him pause mid-action.

''BÍÐA!'' Both the cruel man and Frigyth turned their heads to look at whoever just stopped the brutal Viking. The girl couln`t believe her eyes. Sitting in a single seated strange looking carriage pulled by a beautiful white stallion, sat the very guy that around this time the other day she was enjoying her time with in the meadow.

''ÞESSI ER MINN!!'' Ivar approached the enormous barbarian and pulled him away from his victim by his hair, holding his dagger against his throat.

''Gerðu þetta aftur og þú ert dauður!!'' He spat with venom, letting go of him. When he looked at the shaken lady, he softened his eyes, offering a friendly hand for her to take. She shakily shook her head no, losing any trust she had in him.

Seeing how reluctant she was, Ivar huffed annoyed. '' If you come with me, you`ll be safe.'' He promised. She glanced back at her mother and sisters-who were terrifyingly and confusingly observing the interaction between the two-, looking back and forth between them and him. He instantly put two and two together, and rolled his eyes playfully. '' They will not be harmed IF... you come with me.''

But before she had any chance to speak, her father and brother came rushing to her aid. Wilfred, her brother, seemed unharmed, except for a few cuts here and there and some blood staining his blade, but her father seemed to have a pretty deep cut on his side, that was bleeding alarmingly.

'' STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!'' Her father yelled, pointing his old and chipped sword at the Viking.

Ivar mockingly raised both his arms in surrender, faking a terrified expression. After a few moments, he then grabbed his trusty dagger, swirling it smoothly around his finger and pointing behind him at the army that was currently ravaging the village.

''See that? I am the leader of all of them. I can order them to stop anytime if I want to. That is why I am asking YOU again.'' He pointed his dagger in Frigyth`s direction. '' Are.You.Coming.With.Me?'' He asked slowly, putting an emphasis on each word, to ensure he was being understood.

The curly haired girl looked with saddening eyes at her dad, who was still clutching his sword with all his being, as if believing THAT could actually help her, then at her brother, who was copying his father`s movements, but with less confidence and then at her mother and sisters, who were all shaking their heads no and crying silently, not knowing what the outcome of this woul be.

There was no backing out of this. She had two simple but impactful choices. She either went with him, probably ending up a slave, but at least her family was safe, or so she hoped. Or she could refuse, and get killed by the previous Viking.

With determined steps, she approached Ivar, making him smirk in victory. Her father yelled at her angrily to get back there behind him, but she was already climbing Ivar`s carriage. The young ruler grabbed her hand softly, guiding her to sit on his knees, that she now got to observe, were covered in some sort of metallic braces.

Once she took her seat in his lap, he stroked her hair with one hand, while whispering in her ear. ''Good girl.'' She sat frozen in his lap, letting him wrap a strong arm around her waist to keep her steady.

She took a one last glance at her family, waving sadly at them and struggling to keep her composure.

'' They will be safe, right?! You promised!'' She asked desperately, glacing back at her house, which was now growing to be more and more far away.

'' On my arm ring.'' He pledged, placing his palm over his bracelet for a moment, showing her that he was serious about his oath. Grabbing with one arm the reins and with the other gripping her tightly against him, he yelled something in Old-Norse to the other men, fleeing the village afterwards towards an unknown location to the girl, from where a new life was about to start for her. She could only hope it was going to be good.