#thorfinn son of thors | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shinjisdone · 4 months ago

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𝑇𝜎 𝑆𝜎𝑓𝜏𝜀𝜋 𝛼 𝑊𝛼𝑟𝑟𝜄𝜎𝑟’𝑠 𝐻𝜀𝛼𝑟𝜏 (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn - 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒄, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors - though as your future seemed promising, his thirst for revenge devastated all that you had left.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet Thorfinn again after he shattered your heart (based on season 2; both platonic and romantic)

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚ is here

Part 2: - (Thorfinn trying to accept your existence as a slave)

Part 3: - (Thorfinn finding a reason to live, you finally see him)

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets , @lana-del-stan , @theghostofanficpresent

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Slavery will be a main subject throughout the entire arc. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Nightmares, detailed gore and killing, slavery, humiliation, hallucinations, slight romanticization of death/wishing someone to be dead, slight panic]

Time And Time Again, My Hopes Are Gone...

Far west, across the sea is a land. Rich of fertile ground and warm all year round. He can see the stillness of the meadow as the wind softly blows through the trees.

The wilderness is untouched. Far away from slave traders and the flames of war. The sun is benign with its rays that gently fall on his skin. It's warm and quiet. A gale so soft it embraces his throbbing pain.

Far to the west, across the rich and green hill, is a figure drawing closer. Colors clashing with the soft sky and land, washed out compared to the world around him. Nevertheless, he feels his heart picking up on speed and appraoches the figure with painstakingly slow steps.

The colors and the gear are still the same. Old and bented, abused and dull and so was the glare in their eyes. He should not feel a thing here, knowing this gaze all too well, but it still festered fear inside his heart when it is directed at him. The clear blue sky grows red and the sun fled.

Still, somehow he was able to crack a strained, faltering smile. "...What are you doing here?" He needed to take a deep breath, "You still look the same...like yesterd-"

"What the hell are you talking about, dog?"

The feigning smile was wiped off his face in an instant as his eyes widened. He could feel his muscles aching again, his stomach grumbling, his heart shattering.

You looked at him with such distain in your eyes.

It's Like A Never-Ending Marathon...

"How can you even act like this? Does all of this mean nothing to you?"

His breath hitched in his throat, burning hot and sickening as the quietness of the world was cut down by the incoming roars emerging from the scenery behind you. Pumping up their spears and axes, they tainted the meadow red as small figures galloped across the sky. The fires were following closely after them.

"You left...left me, and left this massacre behind you as you trailed over the sea."

Chants of victories rung in his ears as the flames consumed the both of you. The herd of men loud and clear but always seemed too far to touch and reach. There you still stood, your glare as dark as thunder and never-changing.

"Coward. Deranged mutt. Calling yourself a warrior."

Jaw agape, he watched with white, bulging eyes the scene behind you. It was all too familiar that it should have kick in an instinct - but all he could feel was terror.

With a swift pull to your back, you drew the blade out before plunging it with a sprint down to his abdomen. He barely could let out a scream. Instead, wide agape, he looked down with darting eyes to see his father's dagger.

A crooked grin decorated your visage as you twisted the dagger, cut further, deeper horizontally before yanking it out. Blood tainted your skin.

He could feel himself fall. Fall longer, deeper, faster, down, down, down, and down before a scream pulled him out.

I Hear Voices Every Night Of The Ones I Left Behind...

The same quietness he dreamed about surrounds him in the hut. No, a barn it was. It didn't have a door and he constantly reeked of hay and manure.

Right - this was the barn on the farm.

Sluggishly, he got up as pieces of hay fell off his worn out tunic. With a slow and steady gate his legs carried him to the well standing still and cold in the early morning, the sun having risen just a moment ago as well. He reached out with rough and calloused hands to the cold water and splashed it on his face. Always three times at least as the master told him. With each splash, his mind and vision got clearer and finally, he breathed freely.

What a strange nightmare. This hollow feeling expanding in his heart remained even in the waking world but he cannot recall from what.

As the sun rose higher, he made his way over the dirty, sandy road. Not a lot of the others were up and about as he was, though he only paid attention to the forest further away. The tired mutters of greetings flew over him, like a leaf in the cold wind. All he needed was the axe.

The axe cuts. It hits the sturdy trunk, chopping it away bit by bit, splinters of wood occasionally digging into his skin. Though it was as thick as the trees themselves, so no one ever heard a complaint from him.

The axe cuts. No tree shrieks in pain nor does anyone raise a brow at the lone man in the forest letting one tree fall after another. It keeps him awake and his muscles at work.

The axe cuts. The trees die and fall like flies, slowly - as it is with tree felling, he was told - down to every last twig and root it bears. Nothing can be left behind as the master wished it. All needs to be cleaned off the land so he can use it. So he cut and cut and cut.

"Thorfinn!"

Thorfinn halted. Stopped in his tracks as he was told and looked up through lidded, droopy, brown eyes. In the distance he saw a hand waving as the master galloped closer and with him, a younger slave.

Getting off the mount, he steadied his fall. Master Ketil was an older and seasoned farmer. His blonde hair growing thinner, broad but kind face decorated with wrinkles and his wealth showing in his round stomach. Once again, as he often does, he approached Thorfinn with a smile. "You will be getting a friend." Then he pointed behind him and the youngling followed hastily to bow. "This is Einar and he will be helping you starting tomorrow to fell the trees and turn it into fertile farm land. Einar, Thorfinn has been doing this for a bit longer than a year, he will show you around."

Brown eyes followed the man's gesture and fell on the younger one with kempt, auburn hair. Face young and with no stubbles, a small wart at the side of his nose - finished with an nervous and perplexed expression.

His own looked deep into the one of his new companion and found nothing but vapidness in them.

"Oh, uhm...it's nice to meet you." Einar tried to crack a smile. Thorfinn did not.

With a small chuckle of his own, Ketil pointed towards the small forest, talking of an subject Thorfinn had heard of time and time again.

Talks of fertile land, of wheat, of buying and selling, surpassing ones own price and freedom.

Freedom.

Did he have any of that ever in the first place? He doubted it.

But the new guy had a different opinion of it.

"Buying ourselves back?!" Einar stuttered, not believing what the farmer had just uttered, "We can get our freedom back if we just plant and sell the wheat to you?!"

Ketil jumped and blinked in surprise. "Why...yes. Does that not sound like a good deal to you?" "It's not that! N-Not at all! Thank you, thank you so much! I'll gratefully take the offer!"

Without another word, Einar sprinted deeper into the forest. Sighing heavily, Ketil settled back on his mount, ready to go back. "Do show him around for today Thorfinn and don't have him slack off after that. Both of you have a lot of work to do."

The blonde looked back at him with lidded eyes.

"Yes, master."

Dragging himself after the brunette, the young man watched him observe the area in awe. Trees loomed over the two and Einar swiftly turned back to the shorter man, his jaw agape.

"Thorfinn, was it?! Is that something you can do here in Denmark?! You - You can buy yourself out of slavery?!"

That I Love...

In the midmorning, Einar couldn't sit still.

Strenuously, he mimicked Thorfinn's day-to-day work. Inspecting each tree and root, yanking on them with his bare hands in hopes it might detach just a bit, and throwing questions.

Thorfinn found his keenness perplexing.

At noon, Einar awaited food.

Hearing about the service of the helpers, paid guests helping and guarding Ketil's farm, he grew ever so keen again. The helpers were not the kindest folk and seemingly the most hungry as well.

"What is there to complain?" One sneered as he appraoched Einar. The latter showed the crumbles and nibbled cheese in his rough hands instead. "This, this is our food? How is this supposed to be enough for two people? And it was obviously gnawed on!"

"So?" The second man of the trio sauntered closer with a wide grin. "Slaves like you should be grateful you can even eat a day. For someone so small and little, you sure talk big. We helpers wake up each and every day to bring food to lowly rats like you! And none of you even have the brains on how to thank someone for it!"

With a shaking gasp, Einar stepped back. The mere tone. The way the spit splashed on his face as he talks with that knowing glint in his dull eyes.

How could someone be like that? Just a year ago, he was surrounded by normal people, a village and family.

Once again, the helper spits as he scoffed. "Say it, dog," The grin grew ever so crooked as Einar's shock quickly transformed into rage. "Say 'thank you for the food'."

Breath hitched as the brunette took everything within him not to batter the man here and there. Balling a fist, he pulled back - before a smaller figure squeezed himself between the men and held out the crumbs of bread in his hands.

Thorfinn avoided the helper's gaze and looked down, as if giving a woeful prayer. "We thank you for the food."

Einar observed the tension dissolving, face that of an fish out of water, as Thorfinn returned to his work as if nothing happened.

In the afternoon, Einar hauled a sack of hay on his shoulder, heart feeling disarrayed.

Up ahead he followed Thorfinn who carried two sacks on his shoulders. He wondered how he does it despite his shorter and hunched form.

In fact, the blonde always seemed to hunch so far. He wondered how he does the entire labourous work in the first place.

"...How can you do all of this so easily? And with an empty stomach, too, day in and out. Chopping off the trees and then hauling them off the ground...like that old donkey was of any help." He pouted at the memory of the helpers bringing in an old, weak horse as 'aid' while they snoozed under the trees, "And you were so obedient to these jerks, too."

The walk continued to be quiet. The brunette continued to pout, making an even longer face at the one-sided conversation.

"You know, you can report that to the master! No, we should, have to do that! We are his property and these jerks treated us like were are lesser than that! He should know how his slaves are being treated and get rid of these pigs!"

The walk was silent after that as well. Thorfinn did not turn his back away neither show any sign of taking in his words. Einar only pouted even more and bit his tongue - momentarily.

"You're really strange."

As if struck by lightning, the blonde stopped. A force jolted through his muscles and bones that almost threatened to have him let go of the hay. The same force took a hold of his heart, like a fist squeezing it so tight with the intent to kill him. It won't let go.

Calming down from the start, Einar sped up in front of him with raised brows. The blonde's face was frozen in fear.

"...Thorfinn...?"

"What did you just say?"

"Uh," Quickly, he stepped back. Even the way Thorfinn managed to utter the question, jaw agape and frozen as well, perplexed him. "I said you're strange. Like, it's not like I dislike you it's just…just that I thought we could talk more. You're so quiet all the time but then get so obedient around these jerks but then act like you don't care-"

Agonizingly slow does he regain his body. With each word Einar spoke, Thorfinn nodded along, listened and had it ring in his head like a chant. Just as slow, he began walking again. "...I really am, aren't I?" He muttered after taking a deep breath.

"Eh, uhm, what?"

"Strange..."

I'm Trying To Find The Place Where I Belong...

Thorfinn was allowed to call it a day early for teaching Einar.

Today's chores were almost completed anyway with how tenacious his new companion had been. It was an insistence he could not comprehend.

The brunette did not expect much when Thorfinn showed him the way to the small barn, pointing to the heaps of hay and buckets at the corners. The master's house was across the road at least and the well free for him to use.

Einar also expected not much from his peer, as he had learned today when he quickly dozed off. He believed him to be anyway, when he stayed silent through all his questions.

Einar was strange...but the blonde reckoned he was, too.

That night, his visions turned into nightmares once again - but only to be left forgotten again in the morning.

A dark blue sea and an equally dark sky above. The wrath of the gods over the clouds and a hoard of monsters waging further away. He found himself lucky he wasn't so close.

But that relief was cut short by the freezing pain in his abdomen, as he looked down at you, teeth gritting like a beast. When did he grow taller than you?

He always thought you were the same height. Or were you the taller one?

With a growl, you swayed back with the dagger out of his flesh and thrusted it into it again. Labored breaths tried to escaped your gritted teeth, nosetrils flaring up as you only scolwed at him. With great effort and little strength, you drew the blade back and stabbed him again.

"Liar..." You croaked out, the smallest of hints of tears in your eyes, "This isn't where we're supposed to be. You liar..." Another sob and another attack. Blood oozed out of his open stomach like a broken spring and while the pain was unbearable, Thorfinn remained standing.

"You were supposed to take me somewhere that isn't here!"

He watched with terror as you drowned in his blood.

Einar shot up at the ear-splitting shriek. He wondered how none of the master's family had heard.

All he vividly remembered on his first night on the farm as a slave, was Thorfinn feeling up his abdomen in a mad frenzy, his eyes wide and jaw agape in a silent scream.

Until I Do, I Guess I'll Carry On...

The sun rises and the reek of manure still dwells in his nose. Einar was not dreaming of the farm.

But as he followed Thorfinn's demure figure, anxiously keeping up with his chores and strength, he cannot keep his eyes off of him. Of this strange guy and his hushed whispers in the night.

Again, he observed and stayed back this time as the blonde accepted the spit thrown on his face and food. The amount of labor he carries on his broken back with an lost look in his eyes.

So small and dry, brown so hazy and milky, he wonders if he can even see.

Einar stays back and listens as the master and his employers give him more work, more duties, more praises, more insults. He takes it all the same.

Then, at the setting of the sun, the young man still stays back and watches with the rest of the slaves nearby as Thorfinn dropped all he had carried diligently to the master, and sprinted to a small person further away.

His heart beat in his ears, ringing against his skull and Einar found himself surprised as he prayed that Thorfinn would not get in trouble for whatever he was doing there.

Not getting in trouble for the calloused hand that reached out for that person's shoulder, how they yelped out and whipped their head around at the contact with the man.

How they watched as Thorfinn's hopeful face slowly dimmed to shock - then reverted back to his nonchalant ignorance.

What a fool he was. No, it couldn't be. The words he heard, they weren't yours. This little slave, just a terrified child, may have talked like you - walked like you, had a stature like you, looked like you - but in their place, you wouldn't have frozen on the spot. You would have killed him, or he you, when you gazed upon him as you did time and time again.

Without another word, he let his hand fall to his side and dismissed Einar's concerns. The brunette apologized for Thorfinn's stead but the man was already on his way to the barn.

He didn't even know what he was thinking. How his mind could see a silhouette that could resemble you, mistake you, and start running after you. Thorfinn didn't know what he was doing.

The master was already used to his behaviour. Perhaps that's why he wanted to get rid of him while still gaining a bit of gold.

Another night. Another new slave - a young, blonde woman - another curse from Einar about wars and beasts and another nightmare. It's what Thorfinn finally reckoned them as.

Trapped In Every Sacrifice,

Feel Like I'm Gonna Lose My Mind...

The demons that haunt him as he stabs them down for the earth to swallow. Your bloodied body holding a blade. The insults and spits thrown at him, his insides falling down into the sea. Your flailing arms as you cry for his help as the ground splits in two.

In the dead of the night, he checks for his companion, still seeing him to be asleep. Limply, Thorfinn forced himself to sit up.

The stars were as bright as ever. They were when you two were together but in the past year, the nightsky seemed different. Under it, all alone, he mumbled your name under his breath to remember you by.

That's right, he did not even have anything to remember you by, did he? Not a weapon, not a trinket, nothing. All that was left of you were the nightmares haunting his mind.

He hoped it was even less. In this cool, dark night, Thorfinn hoped you were dead. All would be easier for you to bear if just bones remained of you - and it would be easier to bear for him on his heart and mind.

You'd be free.

No Freedom, Without Love...

Scorching was the sun that morning as Ketil appraoched Thorfinn and Einar on his horse once again. Pater accompanied him with another in tow. Shackles of splinted wood around their swollen wrists. Their head hanging low.

"Thorfinn, Einar!" Ketil called out and began his usual prattling. His face bore that same, kind smile even when his words fell on some deaf ears. All Thorfinn could really focus on were lidded eyes slowly moving from the dirtied path up to him. Eyes that were drooped, limp, cold and familiar.

A shaky gasp. Air that got stuck in their lungs. Ketil halted in surprise as they stepped closer in hesitation, their bound hands rising and Pater yelling out about authority and respect of a property to follow.

All Thorfinn could hear were their breathless gasps, the darting eyes, hollow and in tears as their chafed hands gingerly cradled his face - as if unsure if he was really there.

Then, the shock turned into sorrow and anger.

"...You were supposed to be in Iceland..."

Pater yanked them away from him, the familiar warmth gone as they disorientate. Thorfinn could barely breath.

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