#vikings were white people

[platinumink]

Lazy producers too cheap to invest in wigs!!

It's official. These lazy sacks did not even bother with acquiring wigs. Fuck this, I won't even watch this movie in the cinema. If anyone wants a review, they are going to have to wait until this comes out on streaming services and for me to feel the need to watch a movie while drunk.

They are milking this IP for money, not for the enjoyment and the nostalgia it would bring to those who grew up with the books/audios/movies. I already know this is going to be a disaster.

They have got to be kidding me.

[juror4]

It's ridiculously and infuriatingly difficult to find some casual history material on the Moors because all anyone cares about is classifying whether or not they were Black... Shut up! I want to know about the arts and the science and the clothing and the crafts and the poetry and the battles and the culture! I don't want to do race science!

[whereserpentswalk]

The nazis that you see in movies are as much a historical fantasy as vikings with horned helmets and samurai cutting people in half.

The nazis were not some vague evil that wanted to hurt people for the sake of hurting them. They had specific goals which furthered a far right agenda, and they wanted to do harm to very specific groups, (largely slavs, jews, Romani, queer people, communists/leftists, and disabled people.)

The nazis didn't use soldiers in creepy gas masks as their main imagery that they sold to the german people, they used blond haired blue eyed families. Nor did they stand up on podiums saying that would wage an endless and brutal war, they gave speeches about protecting white Christian society from degenerates just like how conservatives do today.

Nazis weren't atheists or pagans. They were deeply Christian and Christianity was part of their ideology just like it is for modern conservatives. They spoke at lengths about defending their Christian nation from godless leftism. The ones who hated the catholic church hated it for protestant reasons. Nazi occultism was fringe within the party and never expected to become mainstream, and those occultists were still Christian, none of them ever claimed to be Satanists or Asatru.

Nazis were also not queer or disabled. They killed those groups, before they had a chance to kill almost anyone else actually. Despite the amount of disabled nazis or queer/queer coded nazis you'll see in movies and on TV, in reality they were very cishet and very able bodied. There was one high ranking nazi early on who was gay and the other nazis killed him for that. Saying the nazis were gay or disabled makes about as much sense as saying they were Jewish.

The nazis weren't mentally ill. As previously mentioned they hated disabled people, and this unquestionably included anyone neurodivergent. When the surviving nazi war criminals were given psychological tests after the war, they were shown to be some of the most neurotypical people out there.

The nazis weren't socialists. Full stop. They hated socialists. They got elected on hating socialists. They killed socialists. Hating all forms of lefitsm was a big part of their ideology, and especially a big part of how they sold themselves.

The nazis were not the supervillians you see on screen, not because they didn't do horrible things in real life, they most certainly did, but because they weren't that vague apolitical evil that exists for white American action heros to fight. They did horrible things because they had a right wing authoritarian political ideology, an ideology that is fundamentally the same as what most of the modern right wing believes.

[gaykarstaagforever]

People dressing as "vikings," styling themselves after Khal Drogo in GoT.

You know. The Hawaiian man, playing a fantasy Mongol.

I've been laughing at this for 10 minutes.

Racists are so very funny.

[homunculus-argument]

The idea of "western civilisation" as some sort of a homogenous monolith is definitely just a white supremacist dogwhistle, but the way these people talk about it makes it sound downright funny. This Unified White Culture that started in Ancient Greece and practices a religion that was born in the Southern Levant when a small doomsday cult escaped containment, and then there were vikings and shit and these are all just one unified People and Culture, despite of me having more mutual DNA with a neanderthal than a spaniard. Probably more mutual culture, too.

And then this spectacular glorious monolith empire is as fragile as a victorian orphan dying of tuberculosis. Must be protected from the slightest draft from any direction, at all costs, because unlike the cultures of countless diasporic peoples, the mighty Western Civilisation will die if it is not at least a 90% majority at all times. Every three minutes there's something new that is the harbinger of societal collapse, the beginning of the end, some sort of a slow-motion apocalypse caused by people saying stuff and doing things, and wearing clothes you don't like.

"Sure you're laughing now but where will you be when the barbarians are at the gates?" I'll be at the gates, obviously. The faggots are coming and we have a trebuchet.

[there-are-many-ways-to-smile]

I feel like white people get the genres historical and fantasy mixed up..

Because it’s definitely weird to see a movie like “ how to train your Dragon” and not see any Black or people of color in it..

They’re always like this didn’t happen in history, and it’s like yeah because this is a fantasy and it’s all pretend.

[motomamita]

viking!könig × female!villager!reader

warnings: smut, +18, possesive!könig, breeding kink, kidnapping, mentions of rape and virginity!!

Viking!König who, along with his warriors, disembark in a small village located by the sea. Dressed in animal skins, swords and armor, they enter the village to loot and destroy everything within their reach.

It is then that he manages to spot a small house at the top of a small mountain, not far from all the others. Upon reaching the field, he notices a female figure coming out of the small garden with a basket of tomatoes. It was you, dressed in a long white skirt, a beige shirt and a scarf around your head. You look like an angel fallen from heaven, so harmonious and calm, totally different from König's rude figure.

It doesn't take you long to notice that tall, burly man at the entrance to your home, who seems anything but pleasant. You recognize their clothing and the bad intentions that characterized the vikingos. An expression of terror was marked on your face and you immediately ran into your home, shouting your father's name and without letting go of the basket of tomatoes.

Konig's stomach twisted in a feeling of excitement at your reaction, feeling powerful at the fear of the rest of the people seeing him. With his long, muscular legs, he followed your steps to the interior of the home where a series of murmurs welcomed him.

In the humble living room there was an adult couple who looked somewhat sick and next to them was you, who covered 2 small children no more than 6 years old with your body. König was tall and in good shape compared to your family, who apparently barely had enough to eat.

"Please, don't hurt us.." sobbed your mother, who brought her skinny hands to her chest, begging.

"We don't have anything valuable, you can check for yourself." Your father spoke now, pointing around you. König began to walk around the room, observing everything around him and verifying that there was nothing there that would be useful to him. "The only thing we can offer him are vegetables and fruits from our garden. Daughter, give him the basket of tomatoes!" Your father ordered, hoping that König would agree and leave as soon as possible.

You stepped forward timidly and held out the basket with the tomatoes to him, taking a distance and with your hands trembling. König looked down at you, smiling slightly at your fear and how you couldn't maintain eye contact with his cold blue eyes. He reached his hand to the basket and took a tomato, it had a good size and color. Without thinking he brought it to his mouth and tasted a little of it, not caring how the juice fell from his lips to his bushy beard.

"And then? What do you think? If you want, you can take the whole basket, it's all yours!" Your father insisted.

To tell the truth, that tomato was delicious but you were even more so. "I'll take everything from the garden... And your daughter too." König spoke for the first time, generating a shiver throughout your body.

"No problem. Girl, put on some shoes and go!" Your father spoke coldly, capable of doing everything possible to defend his family, even if it meant giving you away to an unknown Viking.

You sobbed and screamed that they wouldn't let you leave with him, with König, but your father did nothing but raise his voice even more and even try to hit you. Your mother and your brothers cried in silence, observing the situation with sadness but without intervening on your behalf. The decision was already made, you were now König's property.

It was widely said that the Vikings came to the villages not only to plunder but also to rape their women and then return to their more 'relaxed' ways. Luckily for you, or not, that had not been the case for you. No, König didn't just see you as a hole to fill with his powerful semen. But as his property, as something to take care of and defend from the other Vikings who had no intention of formalizing with any woman. He wanted to be the only one with something to fight for and stay alive. And, soon, with whom to form a small family of warriors.

During the short time you had to gather your few things, your father took it upon himself to inform König of all the good things you had to offer. You knew how to wash, cook, heal, and, best of all, you were a virgin. That last one excited König even more, who was excited by the idea of ​​being the first (and only) to be between your legs.

You boarded a large ship with your wrists handcuffed to prevent you from escaping and an old cloth bag with some items of clothing. According to König, none of that would help you in the cold climate of traveling over the sea, plus he wanted you not to wear underwear.

"Look guys! König brought us this sweetness to share!" one of the Vikings exclaimed, making all the men's hungry gazes turn towards you. You sobbed at the idea of ​​having to serve as a sexual slave for all those scary Vikings but that idea quickly disappeared when you noticed how König approached the man and growled: "don't go near her." Reporting that you were not a common asset to the crew, but his alone.

That same night you slept next to König in a more exclusive room than the rest of the men, who all slept in the same crowded place. You noticed that he had a higher rank than the rest, therefore you had certain advantages over the others. Luckily for you, König explored your body externally, caressing your breasts, ass and pussy but without trying anything else.

The weeks passed and with them you managed to get used to the lifestyle of those men. König had already warned everyone about your exclusivity only with him, so no one ever tried anything with you. Your routine was based on washing and cooking König's clothes, cleaning his war wounds and cooking for him and his men. During the nights, you only had to be in charge of helping him bathe and dress the times when he arrived very exhausted, then both of you would just lie down and sleep.

Inevitably you managed to appreciate him and desire the closeness of that massive man. König, for his part, also wanted you, demonstrating it in the way that during the night he would rest his big erection against your ass, or how he would sit you on his lap and take advantage of the movements of the boat to obtain a pleasurable friction.

That night, the sexual tension between the two was unsustainable and it didn't take long for both of them to achieve what they had longed for. Due to your tightness and the large size of König's member, his first thrusts were painful and uncomfortable. However, he took care of reducing your disagreement by sucking and biting your breasts.

"My little wife- ah I love your breasts and how tight you are.." König growled, bringing his hands to your hips, using you as his personal fleshlight.

Slowly, his long and thick cock entered completely inside of you, feeling a sensation of simultaneous pain and pleasure. His hot breath and masculine scent made your walls wrap even tighter around him, causing him to moan loudly.

"Mine, only mine. This pussy belongs to me, your breasts belong to me, you belong to me completely..." he murmured, bringing his mouth to your ear and lightly biting your lobe.

His thrusts increased along with his grunts, you sobbed with pleasure at the way his hair pubes touched your clit. "König- I want more.." you stammered, not quite able to formulate words.

"Huh? You want my cum? You want me to fill you up inside?" He asked as his pace became more clumsy, announcing that he was about to finish.

And so he did, filling your entire interior with his powerful semen that, after 9 months later, took shape into 2 chubby and healthy warriors.

[what-even-is-thiss]

People who get mad about poc being included in medieval fiction and fantasy are not only racist but they also have a deep misunderstanding about how their own ideas of race and culture work.

Perhaps, yes. Most people living in Europe in the time period we call the Middle Ages would’ve been what we now consider to be white. But that doesn’t mean poc wouldn’t have been there at all and it doesn’t mean they understood identity in the same way we do.

“Outsiders” could be from within the same city or from a world away. A lot of peoples loyalties and who they saw as being from the same group as them had to do with religious conflicts, politics, and combinations of the two. Maybe just based on what neighborhood or village they lived in.

Historically before the era of colonialism Catholic countries like Portugal have sometimes given aid in various forms to Ethiopia because they’re both christian countries. People in the area we now call Italy would’ve killed neighbors less than a 20 minute walk away over papal politics.

People also traded frequently with people from other continents. Married people from other continents. Early into the so-called age of exploration Portuguese and Spanish explorers were known to sometimes marry women traders from west Africa for their wealth and trade connections. People from all over the Muslim world have also often been traders, enemies, allies, and mercenaries all over Europe and vice versa with Christian and Jewish traders, scholars, mercenaries, traders, crusaders, etc. traveling and living within the Muslim world as well.

Vikings got around. To Eastern Europe, the Mediterranean, North America. Many stayed where they went or made deals with the locals. Many brought prisoners, slaves, illegitimate children, and new wives back home.

Not only did the concept of whiteness and any other modern understanding of race not exist yet, people intermingled, intermarried, moved around, converted religions, traded across continents. Sometimes people made it all the way to North America even if that route and the colonies that came out of it faded out of memory eventually. The world was still interconnected even if it did move much slower.

Also when talking about fantasy and not historical fiction, it’s fantasy. There’s dragon. And wizard. Why are you worried about your racist ideas about “realism”? Besides the racism I mean.

[sinner-as-saint]

not without you

Viking Chief!Bucky x Witch!Reader 

Run-through: You’re a powerful witch, famous and respected for your mastery of magic and ability to control the elements. Naturally, people always need you. Vikings, kings, and common men alike, be it to magically save dying crops, help them win battles, or to protect their people by manipulating the weather. One day, a certain blue-eyed Viking chief asks for your help. Bucky Barnes – one of the strongest, most feared of his kind, known for his ruthlessness and brutal nature. He offers your wandering self shelter and protection in return for your help in keeping his people and crops alive and well with the harsh winter approaching fast. And you can’t seem to refuse his offer… 

Themes: witch!reader, viking chief!bucky, smut, fluff, mild knife kink, cosy winter vibes, metal arm, tatted!bucky, possessive!bucky, slight angst, HEA, 

a/n: thank you for 28k. I love you.

The wind whispered that he was on his way to you. 

By the time the Chief and his men made their way to your makeshift shack on the edge of the woods, you were already out waiting for them. 

Hidden under your billowy cloak, with the hood hiding most of your face, you stood and faced the men with confidence. You couldn’t see them, given the hood, but you sensed the way the Chief got off of his horse, clutching his sword in hand as he took a step. Not in fear, no. But in that arrogant way you’d expect a Chief to move. 

“Witch.” He greeted you. It was the only way he could greet you anyway, nobody knew your name. 

You smirked. Finally peeling your hood off your head. You gave him a brief nod, “Chief.” You looked him right in those ocean blue eyes of his and judging by the look in them, you could tell he wasn’t used to people maintaining eye contact with him. He was an important man after all, and most people feared him. 

But your magic had a way of reading people for you and… there was nothing to be afraid of. Not of him. He did look every bit of the fearsome viking he was known as though. Thick furs couldn’t hide the tall, muscular body. His shoulder length brown hair braided in some places. His handsome face was serious, like he rarely smiled. And all that ink all over his neck, and arm – just one arm because the other one was made of pure metal. 

You had heard stories of how he’d lost his arm in battle, and how a great, benevolent king – also a close friend of his – had the metal arm constructed for him. 

But above all else, the Chief was devastatingly handsome. You’d known, courted, and befriended quite some men. Hunters. Lords. Warlocks. Princes. Kings. Yet none were quite as devastatingly handsome as the Chief. 

You quickly looked behind him and saw two men standing taller and prouder than the rest of the warriors. The wind whispered their names to you. Sam. Steve. Both were just as handsome as their Chief, however there was something about the male standing in front of you with a sword in hand. Thick white fur wrapped around his shoulders. Clear, icy blue eyes. Pink mouth. The cold made his cheeks and nose red. 

“We heard rumours that you were close to our village, and we’ve come to ask for your help.” The Chief said, gracefully, calmly. 

You gave him a nod. “I know.” You said quietly. “The north wind brings news that this winter will be exceptionally harsh.”

Bucky gave you that look that most people gave you when they figured out that your magic was indeed real. He was just a little surprised, but composed himself. “We desperately need your help.” He spoke again. 

You agreed to help of course. This was your purpose with the magic you had. 

And since you had little to pack, you went with them immediately. They didn’t bring an extra horse so you rode with the handsome Chief back to his village where you would be spending the entirety of the coming winter. 

You never asked for anything in exchange. Some witches did, most of them did not. Mainly because you never needed anything, you had magic and you could conjure anything you wanted out of nothing. But you liked having company of people. So you considered that payment. 

And after spending months on your own, you were looking forward to meeting new people, helping them. 

During the ride back to the village you’d be calling home for the coming months, you felt the Chief tense behind you. His muscular arms circled around you as he held the reins but he was respectful enough to keep a few inches between you and him. You could only assume how much stress he was putting on his back to keep him from slouching forward. 

You hid your smile as you sensed that he was nervous. “You don’t have to be so tense.” You said, turning your head to the side a little. “Witches don’t bite.” You spoke quietly so that the men behind you wouldn’t hear. 

“I don’t…” He let out a huff of warm air. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.” 

You smirked, but he couldn’t see it. “I’m just saying, you could use the warmth.” 

He didn’t know what you meant until he slowly inched closer, his chest pressing against your back. Even with the multiple layers separating the two of you, your body heat wrapped around him in a way that had him sighing in relief. 

Without another word said, his metal arm wrapped around your middle as he pulled you against him even more. You smiled as he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You’re very warm.” He sounded a little surprised. His deep, gravelly voice making you shiver despite the warmth. 

“Magic, remember?” 

He hummed in response, keeping his arm loosely around your waist as he took you to his village. The tension between you two felt electric. 

—

The ride wasn’t too long, and soon you arrived at the village. It was larger than you had imagined. Busier, but tidier. 

Once you got past the tall, wooden palisades you could see more of the daily activities. Hunters sharpening their weapons, warriors training, children running around. You spotted the vast crops, the rivers. 

There was so much you couldn’t see, but the elements spoke to you. You knew there was a lake here somewhere. The Chief’s hall was beyond the wooden houses which were scattered all over. You knew there were people gathered somewhere near the beach, working on building a new boat. Multiple boats in fact. 

“Welcome to my home.” The Chief whispered as he led you deeper into the village. 

Judging by the relieved smiles on people’s faces as they spotted you, you knew they were aware that you were here to help them. You smiled back to as many as you could on your way to the main area, in the middle of the village. 

The Chief helped you off the horse and when you thanked him he said, “You can call me Bucky. All my friends do.” 

You gave me a smile, “Alright, Bucky.” 

He nodded, then pointed at a wooden house, not far from his residence, and said, “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” 

One of the ladies was beside you immediately, saying she wanted to help you get settled in. So with one last glance at Bucky, you made your way to your new, temporary home. 

–

The moment he walked into his home, sighing in relief at the feeling of warmth, his two best friends rushed in after him, grinning like they were up to no good. Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam and Steve as he poured wine into three cups. 

“What?” He barked at them, handing them their cups before he sat on one of the few stairs that led to his seat. The one he sat on when he had to act as Chief. But when he was with his friends, he didn’t like sitting on it. 

“Are we going to address the heated looks you and the witch have been sharing or are we going to pretend nothing’s happening here?” Sam teased, leaning against a nearby table. 

Steve chuckled, sitting down near the fire in the middle of the room. “Yeah Chief, what’s going on?” 

Bucky glared at them both. He loved them to death, would die and kill for them in a heartbeat. But gods, they could be so annoying. “Enough,” He grumbled as they both laughed shamelessly at him, “She’s our guest. Most of all, we need her to survive this winter. Be respectful.” 

Sam smirked and said, “Is that what that was on the ride back? The two of you as close as lovers? Was that you being respectful?” 

Steve’s laughter echoed around the hall. Bucky wanted to chuck his cup at both of them but he didn’t want to waste the wine so he just rolled his eyes again, “Get out both of you.” 

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve spoke up, “With her as your wife we would be unstoppable.” 

Sam nodded, “Exactly.” 

“Both of you, shut up.” 

“I mean, she is beautiful. If you’re not interested, I might check out what else her magic can do when-,” Steve stopped talking the moment Bucky threw his cup at him, wine and all. 

Sam choked on his drink and laughed even harder. 

Shortly after, Bucky kicked both of them out of his home. He was surprised at how it suddenly got hard to breathe or think the moment Steve even jokingly hinted at getting intimate with you. Bucky felt so protective over you despite having met you just hours ago. 

He just wished he could keep that under control for the coming months. You were his guest after all. He couldn’t be inappropriate. 

— 

He couldn’t sleep that night. The village was quiet, dark. The night was cold given winter was approaching really fast. The next day, he had plans to give you a tour of the village and thinking about spending hours with you was making him nervous. But in a good way. Gods, he was turning into a little boy with a crush. This was bad for his image. 

He couldn’t sleep, so he figured a walk might tire him out. So he layered up in his favourite furs, grabbed a torch and stepped outside. It was dark, save for the moonlight. And also light coming from your temporary home. 

Bucky was walking towards the wooden house before he even realised it. His hand was knocking against the door before he could talk himself out of it. He should let you rest. He should act like a grown up and walk away right now. Being Chief he should– 

He stopped functioning the moment you opened the door and looked up at him. Dressed in a beige night dress, a woollen blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and the dimmed light of the torches made you look ethereal just standing there at the door. 

You spoke first, “Bucky.” You didn’t sound surprised. You knew he was coming over the moment he stepped out of his home. “It’s rather late, is something wrong?” You couldn’t help but ask. You knew he was coming over, but you didn’t know why. Your magic, fortunately, didn’t allow you to read minds. 

Bucky placed the torch on the sconce by the door and cleared his throat, standing proud and tall like one would expect him to. “I saw your lights were still on. I couldn’t help but worry so I… uh, came to check.” He paused, awkwardly. “Do you… are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” 

You sensed his slight nervousness even without using your magic. You tilted your head to the side and smiled at him, “I’m very comfortable. Your people were kind enough to–” You stopped, noticing how foggy his breaths were, “Please come in,” You opened the door wider, “It’s cold out.” 

Bucky accepted the invitation. As soon as he stepped in, you placed your hand on his chest. Bucky blinked and in the fraction of a second, he felt comfortably warm. He gave you a thankful smile. 

You smirked playfully and whispered, “Magic.” Then you moved towards the makeshift kitchen, “Tea?” 

Bucky grimaced and said, “I don’t like that bitter stuff.” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

You chuckled, “I bet you will like this one.” You went ahead and made him chamomile tea, with warm milk and a generous dollop of honey. 

By the time you brought the mug to him, you found him bent over your little desk. He was looking down at the map you were currently making, your special black ink on special parchment paper. 

Bucky whispered his thanks as he took the mug, then said, “You’re making a map of the village?” He sounded both amazed and confused. “No one has been able to make one this accurate. You haven’t even… “ He paused, “Of course,” He smirked, “Magic.” 

You smiled. “Maps help me control my spells better. It’s enchanted parchment you see,” You pointed at the map, “I can even work from here with the help of the map.” You looked back up at him and saw the look of delight on his face as he took his first sip of the tea. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, “You laced this with magic as well?” 

You giggled, “No, just milk and honey.” 

Bucky just stared at you with soft eyes. In the dim, golden lights his eyes twinkled like that of a wolf. You stared into them, neither of you spoke. Until he finally blinked, pointed at the map and said, “It must be incredible, being this talented.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle in a self-deprecating way. “Talent.” You repeated, looking down at the map. Then quietly said, “I was always taught and told that my magic was a great weapon. But thank you, I guess.” 

Without another word said, Bucky placed his half empty mug down and grabbed both of your hands in his large, warm ones. He tugged you closer, gently. Just the slightest bit so he could have your undivided attention. 

“You’re not a weapon. You won’t ever be one, not here.” He said, softly. Slowly. “You are our salvation.” 

You had been repaid in many ways throughout your life. Chests filled with gold. Jewels. Feasts and balls thrown in your name. Even a few marriage proposals from influential families. But no one had ever told you that you were their salvation. Something about Bucky saying it, even before you got him and his people through the winter, made you tear up just a little. 

His face softened as he wiped that tear away from your cheek with his slightly cold metal arm. “I mean it.” He whispered. Then he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, “You are so beautiful.” Then a little closer to your mouth. “So warm.” Then finally pressed his lips against yours as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer and pressing you against the soft furs he was wearing. 

You couldn’t help but moan quietly into the kiss. That made him growl, made him deepen the kiss. His warm hand cradled your face as his metal arm wrapped around your waist. His lips were surprisingly soft, and his kiss was gentle. Sensual. Your hands wandered over his chest. You could feel his heart racing. You could feel him breathing deeper, but refusing to break the kiss. 

You gasped in pleasure when his mouth left your lips briefly to kiss along your jaw, making your heart flutter in anticipation. But then, he stopped and pulled away. He was breathless, frowning, his lips wet and pink. 

“I… I shouldn’t.” He licked his lips and you almost moaned again. “You’re…” He took a deep breath. “You’re my guest. And you only just got here.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in himself. “I shouldn’t have pounced on you like an animal like that.” 

You fixed the blanket around your shoulders, giving him a playful, though disappointed, smile. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you, but no one even mentioned you were such a proper gentleman.” 

Bucky cleared his throat, then gave you a heated look that screamed that if he didn’t get out of here right this instant he would surely be pouncing on you again. “I should go.” He mumbled. “Thank you for the tea.” 

You nodded, “You’re very welcome. I will see you tomorrow, for the tour?” 

He nodded. Then as he turned to leave, he paused. He turned back around and unwrapped the thick white fur from around his shoulders and placed it on your desk. The tunic he wore was loose around his neck so you could see the ink on his skin peaking through. “Keep this,” He said, “you might need it for tomorrow.” 

You smirked, understanding what he was playing at. He knew you could keep yourself warm. But he just wanted you to wear something of his while he showed you around tomorrow. He wanted everyone to see you wearing something of his. You had heard of vikings being territorial, and truthfully, you didn’t mind this one bit. 

You played along, pretending to be oblivious. “Won’t you be cold then?” 

As he stepped out of the door, he turned to look at you. Smirked and said, “I think your magic will keep me warm enough.” 

You chuckled as he shut the door behind him, took his torch and left. Who knew the Chief would be such a flirt? 

— 

Bucky had never been this excited to give someone a tour of his village. He was at your door the next morning, early and ready. He knew you already had a map, but he wanted you to see the place properly. 

You caught the approval in his smile when he saw you wearing the fur he left you as you stepped out to join him. He was wearing black furs, and looked just as majestic. 

“My people are delighted that you’re here to save us from the winter,” He said as the two of you began walking towards the centre of the village, the busiest part he told you. “So expect a lot of gifts along the way.” 

You didn’t know what to expect. And even after politely refusing many, many tokens of thanks from his people, you already had baskets filled with cheese, berries, fresh bread and you were even done with the tour yet. Bucky, of course, carried the baskets for you. 

He was in a good mood, you realised. He was showing off a little as he gave you the tour. Showing you all the new warehouses, the new boats that were being built near the beaches, the new houses being made as the number of people grew. 

He showed you the hall where himself, Steve, and Sam often trained young kids. They taught them how to fight, to defend. They’re vikings, they need to be ready, he said, for anything and everything. 

He had a glow on his face as he spoke about the kids, and you couldn’t help but ask, “How come you don’t have any?” 

Bucky gave you a faint smile. Then said, “After my father died, I had to take care of everything around here. And I guess I never had time.” He paused, “I also never found the right person.” 

You turned to look at him and he was looking the other way, surely hiding a smirk. You decided to drop the subject. 

Bucky led you deeper into the village, near the lake. “It looks incredible in the summer, but–,” He stopped talking once the two of you heard male voices shouting. It sounded like it was coming from the lake. 

You followed Bucky as he rushed to the lakeside and let out a groan. You chuckled once you saw what he was looking at. His two friends, Steve and Sam, arguing in the water about who pushed who first. 

Bucky sighed and said, “I apologise, I wish these two would act like adults.” Then he yelled at them, “Hey! Stop trying to make me look bad. And get out of the water both of you, I can’t have you both freeze to death!” 

You watched how the two of them swam towards the shore and eventually got out, trembling. 

“Gods, I hate you.” Sam said, shivering. 

“You pushed me!” Steve argued, shoving Sam. 

Sam shoved him back, “You pushed me!” 

“Enough!” Bucky turned to you and said, “My useless friends,” He introduced, “I wish you would’ve met them in more normal circumstances.” 

You laughed, then walked up to the two men. “Hello,” You said and placed your hands on each of their shoulders, your magic would keep them from shivering. And the moment you touched them, they both sighed in relief. “There, that should keep you warm until you get home.” 

You couldn’t help but check them out. They were both muscular and fit, and the way the wet tunics clung to their bodies… their muscular torsos, and biceps bigger than– 

Bucky cleared his throat and you quickly looked away. You were almost certain Sam and Steve were smirking as they mumbled their goodbyes and hurried home. 

“We should get back.” Bucky said, his mood immediately turning sour. 

When the two of you did head back, he walked you to your home, handed you your baskets full of food and gifts, whispered a brief goodbye and left. You had planned that you would ask him to join you for dinner, as a way of thanking him for the tour. But he was just so grumpy on the way back that you decided not to. 

But then you were restless the whole evening. You made yourself a quick dinner and sat by the fire to read but something didn’t feel right. 

As it got later, the village got more and more quiet. And dark. When the wolves began howling you knew it was very late, but as you looked through the window, you saw that the lights inside Bucky’s home were still lit. 

He was awake. 

You debated walking over to his place, but then decided not to. You had to get to work the next day and surely you’d get a chance to talk to him then. 

—

You visited the crops first, drawing your runes in the dirt. That’s where you ran into Steve and Sam. They wished to introduce themselves properly, and the three of you began talking. They showed you around for a little while, making you laugh at their jokes and stories of their childhood. 

They kept you company while you worked and at some point, you sensed that someone was watching you. You knew who it was before you even turned around. 

There was Bucky standing, proud and tall, quite far from the crops. The same broody expression on his face as the day before. 

You almost lifted your hand to wave at him but then he walked away. 

“We better leave,” Steve said with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m afraid if the Chief sees us around you again he might behead us in public.” Sam winked at you and then walked away. 

So Bucky was jealous. 

After you were done with the crops, as you made your way home in the afternoon, you ran in Bucky in the village centre. He was on his way home as well, you realised, so you walked a little faster until you caught up to him. 

Once you were beside him, you said, “Hello, Bucky.” 

“Hello.” He mumbled. 

“I worked at the crops today, I drew my runes.” You told him. 

“I know, I saw you earlier.” He said.

His voice held enough distaste that you couldn’t help but ask calmly, “Why are you angry at me?” 

He threw you a look and mumbled grumpily, “I’m not angry. I’m very grateful that you’re here.” 

"Then why won't you talk to me?" You asked. "You look like you're angry." You paused, then asked, "Is it because I was talking to your friends?" 

He stopped walking immediately. Turned to face you and said, "What were the three of you talking about anyway?" 

You had to hide a smirk as you answered, "Nothing in particular. They were just keeping me company." Seeing he still had that broody look on his face you asked, “Does that bother you?” 

He scoffed. "No." He frowned. "Why would it? You're free to talk to whoever you want, you're our–" 

You cut him off, "Guest, yes. I know." You smiled. "Well then, how would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" 

Bucky's bright blue eyes stared at you, an unexplainable expression in them. "Another time." He said much to your surprise. 

The rest of the walk back was filled with awkward silence. 

That night, you were restless. After a quick dinner, you sat by the fire to read but you couldn’t quite get into it. Then you got up and looked through the window and saw that the lights in Bucky’s home were still on. 

Again. He was awake. This time you didn’t think twice before putting your cloak on and walking to his front door. It was so quiet that you could hear the knocks echoing. Two knocks later, Bucky opened the door. 

His braids were undone, yet he looked just as handsome. “It’s late.” He said. 

“Also very cold, you should let me in.” You said. 

Bucky opened the door wider, letting you in before shutting the door. 

You walked into his home and took it all in. The place smelled like him, and a little smoky. Probably due to the fire that burned in the middle, keeping the place nice and warm. You saw his seat. His swords and weapons hung on the walls, along with artworks. Furs and rugs scattered on the floor, the place was cosy. 

“Nice place.” You commented as you turned to face him. You found him leaning against a nearby wooden column, with a drink in hand. 

He gave you a curious look. “Surely you didn’t walk all the way here to comment on my home.” He said. He looked good. The dim light from the torches made him look like a god. Long brown hair, pretty blue eyes. His tunic was loose now, showing a lot of the ink on his skin. His metal arm caught the light a few times, shining occasionally when he moved. 

You felt your heartbeats echoing louder in your ears the more you looked at him. And then… then he had the audacity to slowly lick his lips. 

That did it. You walked up to him, carefully took the cup from his hand and brought it to your lips. You held his stare the whole time. You took a careful sip because whatever it was, it was very strong. Then said, “No, no I didn’t.” 

Bucky gave you a heated look. One that was familiar from the other night when he kissed you. “You know, it’s rude to snatch someone’s drink. Especially the Chief's.” 

You smirked at him. “Do something about it then,” You added mischievously, “Chief.” 

“Oh?” Bucky’s metal arm was around your waist in no time, pulling you into his warm, muscular chest. “Now you want my attention?” He taunted, his voice deep, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the smirk on your lips. “What about when you were shamelessly staring at other men right in front of me? Or what about earlier, when you were–” 

You cut him off with a chuckle. “Just say you are jealous.” You took another sip from his drink. “And if this is how you treat your guests then I think I can imagine why everyone fears you.” 

“I’m not jealous,” He mumbled, nuzzling your cheek. “I just don’t like seeing you with other men.”

You gasped, and almost dropped the cup in surprise as he kissed along your jaw softly, biting you playfully while he’s at it. “So possessive,” You whispered, “We only just met.” You teased. 

His grip tightened around your waist before he pulled away to look at you. His blue eyes now dark with desire and longing. “Yet I haven’t been able to think about anything other than wanting to have you all to myself ever since I kissed you that night.” He said. 

He looked down at your mouth as he spoke, and it only made your heart race faster. “Bucky…” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, you just… wanted. “Please.” You found yourself whispering. Pleading, which you had never done before. 

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned, pressing your back into the wooden column he was leaning against earlier. The cup fell to the floor, neither of you paying much attention to it. His metal hand cupped your face and he stared into your eyes as he spoke. 

His voice was dangerously low as he spoke, “You must understand, if we do this there’s no going back.” He said, looking down at your parted lips. “If we do this, you’re mine.” He reiterated, “If we do this,” He leaned in to brush his soft lips carefully against yours, making you gasp and whimper, “You belong to me and only me. Are we clear?” 

The rasp in his voice and the feral desire lacing his words already made your brain foggy. “Yes,” You whispered, placing the palms of your hands pressing against his warm chest and partially exposed skin. 

He wasted no time in undoing your cloak and letting it fall to the floor and pool around your ankles. Bucky had a devilish smile on his face once he saw that you were wearing nothing beneath the cloak except for flimsy undergarments. Near transparent ones. 

Bucky’s eager hand trailed up your body, gently, starting from your thigh all the way to your breasts. The warmth of his hand made you shiver in pleasure. “So this is why you were complaining about being cold?” He whispered in your ear while his hand ran up and down your sides. “I thought you could manipulate elements to keep yourself warm.” Your body felt like it was on fire under his touch. 

“Well, I can manipulate the elements.” You said. Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “But there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He smirked at the sight of the look of mischief in your eyes. 

Then he gently tugged on the delicate necklace around your neck, toying with the crystal pendant leisurely as if he had all the time in the world. As if he couldn’t see you squirming under his touch, wanting more. 

“It’s…” He frowned at the crystal, now holding it between two metal fingers. “It’s moving.” He whispered, and sounded so genuinely confused that it made you smile. Who knew this tall, muscular, godlike man could be adorable? 

You nodded, looking at the crystal. It was clear mostly, except for a greyish, dark, flowy mist moving around inside it. It looked like smoke trapped inside the crystal, but it was just energy. “I was given this by my family the day I left my home when I was a young girl. As a gift. For protection.” You explained. 

You looked up to find him looking down at you with a heated, wild look in his eyes. “I’m here now,” He said. “I’ll protect you. Always.” He pulled you closer, pressing your barely clothed body against him. 

You smiled, sliding your hands up until your fingers slid into his soft hair. The light from the burning torches began to dim, making the room slightly darker but still golden. The smirk on Bucky’s handsome face signalled that he knew you were messing with the torches. 

“I want you,” You whispered, pressing your lips to his cheek. The slight stubble felt rough against your mouth. But it only made you wonder where else it would feel rough. And you couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped your mouth. 

As if he could read your mind, Bucky chuckled. He grabbed you by the neck, tightening his grip just a little, enough to make you feel warm all over. “I don’t think I could be gentle…” He whispered, his metal hand reaching for the fine dagger he kept on him at all times. 

He carefully pressed the tip flat against your lower lip. Your heart began racing faster. Bucky slowly dragged the tip of the dagged down your chin, down the side of your neck, down in between your breasts before he cut the fabric, slicing it in two and letting that fall down to the floor as well. You hissed as the cold air hit your now exposed breasts. Bucky seemed pleased as he let go of your neck, his hand trailing down to fondle with your breast instead. You tipped your head back and moaned at his touch. 

He kept the dagger pressed against your skin as he leaned in to kiss your exposed neck, “I don’t want to be gentle.” He said. 

You let out a gasp as he slid the tip of the dagger sideways, circling your nipple with it deliberately slow. “Good,” You whispered, “I don’t want you to be gentle.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you’re perfect.” He dragged the tip of the dagger down, sliding it slowly across your abdomen, right above the waistband of your undergarments. Over and over again until you were squirming, and gasping, and grinding on nothing. 

“Please,” You said, looking at him with soft eyes.

Bucky held your stare as he slid the dagger under the fabric of your undergarment and sliced that off of you as well. Fuck that sound of fabric tearing off of your body did something to you. 

“Please,” You begged again. You were unable to ignore the wetness in between your legs anymore. Neither could he. 

Once there was not an inch of fabric shielding you from his hungry stare, Bucky threw the dagger onto the pile of your clothes and next thing you knew, you were being pushed down onto a nearby pile of soft furs. 

He pinned you down by your throat, as he hovered above you, leaning over with his metal hand wrapped around your neck firmly while he stared down into your eyes. “You look so beautiful like this.” 

You gave him a smirk and said, “It’s your turn. I want to see you.” You wanted to see the ink on his skin, trace it with your finger. You wanted to see him naked on these furs with you. You had never longed to touch someone like this before. 

Bucky held your stare, arrogant grin on his face as he pulled away to take off his tunic and lower his pants. 

You let your eyes feast on him. Ink covered more skin than you thought, but it suited him. He looked every bit the fierce Viking he was. You wanted to take your time and admire the artwork on his body but… later. Right now, you wanted him. 

You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him closer, pressing your mouth to his and kissing him deeply. “I want you,” You whispered again. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Bucky’s hand was back around your throat as he growled into the kiss, “I know.” 

Guess he could take his time and caress every inch of you like he wanted to later, right now though, he needed to have you. He was hungry for it. So he pulled away from the kiss, parted your legs and slid a finger inside you, reassuring himself that you were ready for him. 

Bucky groaned when he found that you were dripping for him. “All that for me?” He teased, settling in between your legs and pressing the tip of his cock against you. You gasped and whined as he slid the tip of it up and down your slit. 

“Please,” You begged, whining. “Hurry up or I swear to gods I will make sure your house is always freezing throughout winter.” 

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. “No need for all that, little witch.” He whispered as he pushed his cock into you, stretching you out in a way that made it hard for you to even think about anything else. 

“Do I feel good inside you?” He questioned, teasing and knowing full well you weren’t in a headspace to answer him. His hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you that he knew you couldn’t even think straight. 

And fuck did he feel good snug inside you. You just whimpered in response, staring up into his pretty blue eyes. “More,” You whispered, “I want more.” 

He smirked, digging his knees into the furs before he pulled out and pushed back into you. He set a hard and fast pace that made your head spin with pleasure. He was just as passionate as you expected him to be, his kisses were messy and his grip on your body was tight. He growled and moaned against your mouth as he sped up into you. 

You were a moaning mess under him. Your legs locked around his waist as he pounded into you, “You feel so good,” He said, “Look at you, all wet and open for me.” He slowed down for just a moment, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust it. “Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” He asked, slow fucking you until you felt a tear escape your eye. 

Fuck, he was keeping you right on that edge. It drove you mad. 

“Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed along your jaw, nibbling on your skin. “When you walked all the way here tonight, wearing basically nothing as you knocked on my door in the middle of the night,” He chuckled, “Is this what you wanted? To be full of my cock?” 

You nodded, more tears falling down. It was so good, almost overwhelming. His words, his deep voice, the heated look in his eyes as he fucked you slowly, his weight on top of you, his warmth… 

“Yes,” You whispered, “It’s all I wanted.” 

Bucky sped up again, taking you by surprise and you couldn’t help the sinful moans that escaped your lips. He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen instead, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. “Well there you go,” He said, as if taunting you, “Here I am. Deep inside you.” He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “Just how you wanted.” 

You whimpered desperately as he fucked you deeper. You felt your walls clenching around him. You felt the familiar feeling, the pressure down there just waiting… waiting to explode. Your back arched off the furs as he brought you right to the edge again before slowing down. It was brutal.  

You gasped in shock, and the now ruined orgasm. Bucky smirked. “That’s punishment,” He said, “For talking to other men right in front of me.” 

You frowned, “You’re cruel.” 

Bucky kissed you one more time before he flipped you around and pulled you onto your knees and pushed into you again from behind. You moaned out loud, not expecting that but welcoming the feeling of being full again. 

You laid your cheek down on the furs, the softness of them a stark contrast to how rough Bucky was being, handling your body like you were just a toy. It made you smile in pure bliss as he gripped your hips and slammed in and out of you incessantly, sighing and groaning in the process. 

More tears escaped your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle. You felt the pressure at your core forming again as Bucky pounded into you mercilessly, fucking you like an animal. Bending and contorting your body however he liked. Pressing your head down as he sped up into you until you came, crying out loud and clenching around him so hard it took him everything not to finish inside you. 

He quickly pulled out and came all over your lower back and thighs. He took a moment to admire all the marks he’d left on your skin before pulling you into his arms as he laid down beside you. 

You placed your ear right above his heart, listening to it gradually calm down like yours did. Only then did you have enough energy to keep your eyes open and admire the ink on his skin. You traced the closest one with a finger. 

“A dragon?” You asked. 

Bucky chuckled softly. “I like to think they might have been real at some point.” 

You pulled away, holding yourself up using your elbow. You looked down at Bucky and said, “Of course they were. They were magical beings, they got along well with witches and warlocks in fact.” 

Bucky looked pleasantly surprised. “You are so full of secrets.” He said, lifting a finger up to your face and gently traced the shape of your mouth. “Tell me more,” He pulled you back into his arms, nuzzling your neck and making you laugh, “What happened to the dragons?” 

— 

Sleeping in each other’s beds became part of the routine. 

Some nights he would come over after the village had gone dark and quiet. Other nights you’d go over to his place and stay till early morning. 

Nobody knew about you and Bucky, except for Steve and Sam who couldn’t stop grinning like mischievous devils each time they ran into you. 

Days passed this way. The weather got colder, and you kept the village in perfect shape. The rivers kept flowing even though they should be frozen. The lake as well. The crops stayed healthy. As did the cattle.

Your magic had created an invisible dome over the entirety of the village. A vast dome that only you could see. 

The people were safe from the intense cold and they were warm, fed, and happy. 

But doing all that always made you extremely tired. Usually you’d hide it well behind faint smiles and blame it on it being a long day. But even at night you had to use your magic to keep the dome intact. And although you did your best to hide it, sometimes your weariness would show. 

Like the one time when Bucky caught you by the lakeside late at night. 

You were sitting on the jetty, looking down at the dark water. The moonlight made the surface shine, and just beyond the lake, right where the dome ended, you could see the harsh winds of the blizzard that you were currently keeping away from Bucky’s people. But from within the dome, no one could even hear it. 

And just when you thought of Bucky, you heard him walking on the jetty and on his way to you. 

“I looked for you everywhere.” He said, sitting down next to you on the edge. “Are you alright? You never come here this late.” He sounded genuinely concerned. 

You smiled at him, his pretty face glowing under the moonlight. Then you pointed at the blizzard, and Bucky swore under his breath when he saw what was happening beyond the dome, “I came to make sure everything was safe.” You said. “I had to draw some of the runes again.” Then you added, “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.” 

Bucky loosened the furs around his shoulders and opened his arms for you to snuggle up to him. 

You gave him a smirk as you slowly scooted closer to him, “I can keep myself warm, remember?” 

“Yeah, but there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He teased, wrapping his arms and the furs around you, holding you close to him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek softly then said, “You seem tired. I didn’t realise magic would take such a toll on you.” He sounded a little embarrassed. 

“Hey,” You placed a gentle hand on his rough cheek. “This is how it is. Magic has a cost, it feeds on my energy and that’s just how it works. I should be okay after a few hours of sleep.” You smiled up at him. “Can I ask about the arm?” 

He smiled, tapped you on the nose with his metal finger and said, “Bravery has a cost, my lady.” You laughed, and he eventually told you the story. And by the time he was done, he noticed you were just about to fall asleep. “Hey, come on. Let’s go to bed.” 

You let him help you stand up and said, “I’m tired tonight, maybe–,” 

He cut you off. “That’s not what I meant.” He pulled you closer and kissed you gently, “I won’t do anything, I just want you in bed with me. You’re doing so much for us, let me take care of you and do what I can.” He added, pressing another kiss on your lips, “Please.” 

You smiled and gave in. 

And turns out, sleeping in his bed, in his arms was enough to recharge you. 

— 

One day, a messenger came with urgent news for Bucky. 

A little far from this village was another one, and the news said that their Chief had died leaving behind no one to care for the people. Since Bucky was the closest, they were begging him to help them last this icy winter. 

Bucky held a meeting with his inner circle – his friends, and now you as well. Everyone gathered near the fire in the middle of Bucky’s home. Outside, the weather was getting colder. Your magic kept everyone here comfortable but those people who had asked for help… they wouldn’t last long. 

“We can’t help them.” Bucky said, surprising everyone in the room. 

Tony, the one who created weapons for every warrior in the village and also part of Bucky’s inner circle, spoke up first, “What do you mean here, Chief? Those people will die.” 

Steve nodded, agreeing, “There are children, cold and starving. We can’t leave them.” 

“Think about it,” Sam said, “We could have more people in our army to fight for us, with us.” 

Bucky stopped his slow pacing, then turned to all of you. “How are we going to care for these people? I mean, I guess we’ll have enough food for everyone but what about shelter?” 

Peter, Tony’s apprentice, spoke up this time, “We have enough material to build houses. I mean, we could always pause on the boats for now and use those materials for houses. You’ll have to go bring the people over anyway, and by the time you’ll be back I suppose we could have houses ready by then.” He looked over to Tony for approval. The latter nodded in agreement. 

“That will cost too much.” Bucky said. Then sighed. “I have to care for the people here.” 

You spoke up this time, “I could help.” You said. “I have more gold than I could ever use. And I could help with the building, and–,” 

Bucky cut you off gently, “No, I cannot ask you for all that. You’re already helping us, and this wasn’t part of our arrangement.” He paused for a moment, only the crackling logs filled the silence, “Besides, I’ve seen what using magic constantly does to you.” 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s just how it works,” You repeated. “It’s like when you complain about being tired after a whole day of training. Doesn’t mean you won’t ever train again.” You reasoned. “And as for our arrangement, I agreed to help. So let me.” 

Bucky sighed again, walking over to you as if the rest of the people in the room didn’t exist. Honestly, the moment you stared into his clear blue eyes, it didn’t matter who else was in the room. 

“It’ll wear you out.” He said softly, almost in a whisper. 

You gave him a faint smile, “Guess you’ll just have to take better care of me then.” 

He was about to reach out and cup your face in his hands but then Steve, Sam, and Tony all cleared their throats to get your attention back on the current issue. You avoided all their eyes awkwardly while Bucky smirked shamelessly. Peter just seemed confused. 

“Fine,” Bucky said. “We’ll bring the people. We’ll take the boats.” He announced. “We leave today itself.” Then he proceeded to assign the work of building additional houses over to Tony and Peter. Sam and Steve, along with other warriors, were going with Bucky. 

Then the men left, Tony and Peter went to gather people to help them start building immediately and Sam and Steve went to get the other warriors to prepare for their journey. Once they were out of the house, Bucky pulled you close. 

“That was generous of you.” He said, nuzzling your neck and kissing it. “I’ll be gone for two weeks at least, you know?” He said. “I’ll miss you.” His lips brushed along your neck, stopping at the corner of your mouth, “I’ll miss this.” His arms tightened around you, making you gasp. 

“I’ll miss you too,” You said, pulling away to look at him. “The sea will be rough,” You said, “Take this.” You took the crystal necklace off of your neck and put it around his, hiding it under the layers he wore. “That should keep you safe.” Then you looked around and said, “You should start packing your things. My magic won’t work given the distance so you’ll need more furs to keep you warm.” 

He looked at you with soft eyes. “Usually no one fusses over me like this.” He said, “I like it. I like it a lot.” 

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “Now hurry up. Those people need you.” 

“Hmm,” He leaned down for a kiss again. “If anyone touches you while I’m gone I will behead them.” He said, half-joking. “One more thing, I want you to stay here while I’m gone.” He said, referring to his house. “Sleep in my bed every night. Oh and think of me. Miss me. A lot.” 

You laughed. “Understood, Chief.” 

— 

You went to see Bucky off when he left later that evening. He looked like a King and his armada, setting off for battle. 

He was barely out of your sight and you missed him already. You whispered a prayer to the strong winter winds, telling them to keep him safe until he comes back. 

—

For the entirety of the two weeks which followed, you worked harder than ever. The dome, the crops, the cattle, the rivers and lake, and now the construction. Your magic fortified the wood used for the new houses, all the gold you had accumulated over the years helped the village immensely. 

The people were so grateful. And you did your best to keep their spirits up while their Chief was gone. 

It made you feel all warm inside whenever people would gush about how incredible of a leader Bucky was. You wondered if he knew his people loved him so much. Then, almost always, quickly followed by that warm fuzzy feeling was intense worry. 

You never had anyone to worry about this much. So this was new for you. 

By the end of the second week, each morning you’d wake up and go by the beach to see if you could see the ships coming. They didn’t. 

You slept in his bed like he wanted you to. And that just made things worse. Because now not only did you worry about him, but you missed him like a mad woman. His scent was all over the bed and the covers. 

But then one morning, as you went to the beach to check, you saw them. The ships, tiny little dots near the horizon. They were coming back. He was coming back. 

Great timing in fact because the houses were just done building as well. And the crops had just been harvested. 

Some hours later, the ships docked. And the new people had arrived, with their entire lives packed into trunks. While everyone showed the new ones to their houses, you looked for Bucky. You couldn’t even hide the smile on your face as you spotted him, running to him. 

Bucky smiled as you ran into his open arms, hugging him tightly. You didn’t see the approving smiles on the faces of people around you, all you cared about was that Bucky was here, safely. 

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” He whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ve missed you.” 

You pulled away to look up at him. “You’re back.” You whispered, delighted. 

He cupped your face and leaned down to press his forehead against yours, sighing. “I wish I could take you to bed and show you how much I missed you, but…” 

“Later,” You finished his sentence. “There’s a lot of work to be done right now.” 

He nodded. Then you felt something moving near your ankles, getting tangled up in your flowy cloak. You looked down and saw a small ball of white fur. Bucky chuckled as you bent down to pick it up. 

“The mother and the rest of the litter didn’t survive the cold,” He said, “But I found this little guy as we were evacuating the village. He was hiding under a pile of hay, all hungry and trembling. And I thought, who else would take better care of him than a certain generous witch I know?” He explained, a little flustered, ”So I brought him along. For you.”  

You looked at the fluffy, white wolf pup in your hands. You already loved him with all your heart. Then you looked up at Bucky again, “Thank you. I love him.” You said, kissing him on the cheek, “And thank you for not leaving him behind.” 

He smiled, “Oh well,” He looked around to see his people helping their new guests get off the boats, offering to carry their luggage for them. He looked beyond proud. “What’s one more addition to our village?” He shrugged, smiling at you. 

–

It took some hours, but by nightfall everyone had a bed to sleep in and roof over their heads. Bucky was so pleased he insisted they celebrated this feat. Plus he wanted the new members to feel welcomed and comfortable so he held a feast. 

Food and ale makes everyone feel at home, he said. 

So the feast was held. The village centre quickly became a vibrant, bustling scene. And the music was the best part. You had travelled to so many places but you had never heard such rich music and singing. 

As you walked around, enjoying the atmosphere, everyone thanked you for your help. Usually by this time well into winter, food was always scarce. But with you and your magic here, everyone was happy and their bellies were full. 

You caught Bucky’s stare from across the crowds of people a lot of times. His heated stare that held promises which made your face feel all hot and made your body tingle. But he was busy catching up with his people right now, he made sure to speak with each and everyone of the new members of his village, he spoke with the kids and promised them that they would be restarting training soon. He even held some of the babies that had been born while he was away. 

And you watched him with fondness. Watched how he smiled, watched how he let the kids mess with and admire his metal arm, watched how gentle and kind he could be, as well as how stern and assertive. 

And then he caught you staring. He smirked at you while you pretended that your entire being didn’t come alive under his attention. You tried to hide the way you clenched your thighs together as he began walking over to you, finally. 

The music rose to a crescendo as he made his way to you. Tall, strong, with a confident and slightly arrogant gait. He stopped when he was right in front of you, the lit torches made his skin look golden, and his eyes… oh his eyes. 

His metal head reached out to touch your face, slowly caressing your warm cheek. “Did you get a chance to eat?” He asked. 

You nodded, lost in his eyes. You didn’t even remember what you ate, if he asked you you wouldn’t know. 

“Good. Then let’s go.” There was enough raw desire in his voice that it made you move immediately. 

As you walked you asked, “Won’t they notice you’re gone?” You referred to the ongoing festivities. 

Bucky smirked as he took your hand in his, the two of you making your way through the dark, to his place. “Judging by the way you threw yourself into my arms earlier, I think they expected us both to disappear at some point.” 

After the short walk, you could still hear the music from the feast even after making your way into Bucky’s home. You could hear some vocalising, and it sounded… magical. Raw. Intense. Much like the look in Bucky’s eyes. 

“I see you did sleep here.” He noted, appreciating that you did as he’d asked. 

You took your cloak off near the fire and then followed Bucky into the sleeping area. “It was the closest I could get to you while you were gone.” You whispered, taking the layers of fur off of him. You carefully placed it down and began undoing his tunic. “Your bed smells like you.” You said, “Some nights I couldn’t sleep until I made myself come while pretending it was your hand touching me.” 

A sound resembling a growl left his mouth as he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, ceasing your movement. “Show me.” He said, low and deep, “Show me what I missed.” 

A sly smirk formed on your lips, “Sure you don’t want to do it yourself?” 

He shook his head. “I want to see.” 

You turned and gave him your back, “Undress me then.” You expected him to undo the laces and buttons. But no. You felt something cold against the nape of your neck, and then the sound of fabric being ripped filled the room. 

You gasped in pleasant surprise. He’d torn your dress off instead. With the dagger. You let the ruined dress fall to the ground and faced him again, naked because you hadn’t been wearing any undergarments, “That was one of my favourites.” You said, looking into his lust-drunk, hooded eyes. 

“I don’t care.” He answered, truthfully. Stepping closer he raised the dagger up under your chin, pressing it gently against your skin. “If it were up to me, I’d keep you naked in this bed at all times.” 

You giggled. 

“Hurry up,” He said, “Show me.” His voice was a mere whisper. 

You could still hear the music and the singing in the background as you held his stare and laid down on his soft bed, on your back. He stood at the end of the bed looking down at you like an old god looking at a sacrifice. With hunger in his eyes like you’d never seen before. 

He watched as if in trance, as you bent your knees and spread your legs. His breaths got deeper as he watched how wet you were, your finger slowly sliding up and down your slit. He inched just a little closer as you began gasping and whimpering, your finger slipping in and out of you. 

Your other hand toyed with your nipple, twisting and tugging. You held his dark stare as you moaned, back arching off the bed, the slightly chilly air hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further. 

“Oh gods…” Bucky whispered, watching as you put on a show. Watching as you whined in pleasure as the pace at which your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you increased. You looked down and saw the bulge in his pants. He was barely holding back. 

The way he watched you, the feeling of anticipation knowing he would fill you up soon, all of it made your heart race. Outside, the music rose to a crescendo again and you moaned louder, fingering yourself faster, the palm of your hands rubbing against your sensitive clit over and over again as your middle finger slipped in and out of you. 

You gasped, “Bucky…” You moaned quietly under your breath, imagining it was his fingers that were touching you instead of your own. “I need you…” you mumbled in the haze that you were in, “Please… I need you.” 

He wasted no time in grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed as he knelt to the ground. He placed your legs over his shoulders and leaned down to kiss your belly. He was rock hard, barely able to think straight. But fuck he needed to hear you moan as you came. 

“I fucking missed you,” He mumbled as he kissed around where your shaky fingers were buried in your wet cunt. “Let me taste you.” He whispered before gently slipping your fingers out of your hole and into his mouth. He sucked on them like they’d just been dipped in the sweetest honey. 

“Oh fuck…” You moaned, looking at him. The great Chief, kneeling in between your legs, sucking your taste off your fingers… it was heady. “Please,” You murmured again when you noticed that he was teasing you, keeping you waiting on purpose. 

He let go of your fingers, smirking as he looked up at you. “I’ve been wanting to taste you.” He whispered, his warm breath making you squirm. Chuckling at your restlessness, he parted your folds and buried his mouth in between them, eating you out like he was a starving man and moaning at your taste. 

Relentlessly, passionately. His warm mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked on it occasionally. His tongue teased your entrance as he took his time to feast in between your legs. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, it had gotten slightly longer you realised as you grabbed a fistful of it, tugging on it gently as his mouth teased you. 

“So this is what you did, huh? While I was away, rescuing people and fighting rough seas…” His tongue slowly circled around your clit and he earned more and more moans out of you. “You were here, touching yourself.” 

Your legs trembled as he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed your core further into his mouth and made you cry out of pleasure. You whined. “Please, Bucky…” 

He chuckled, darkly. “No.” He pulled away, licking his lips. “Not so easily.” 

He stood up, got rid of all his clothes before climbing into bed with you. His glorious, inked, naked body hovered above yours as he looked down at you with nothing but fondness and desire in his eyes. You looked down, whimpering at the sight of him stroking his hard cock, it was leaking already. 

Bucky looked down at you and smiled before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck, “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” 

You cried out, “Yes! Please, Buck–,” 

He cut you off by sliding into you, filling you up. You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly and he growled under his breath as he filled you up entirely. “Look at me,” He said. When you did, he smiled and laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up into you. “Fuck,” He swore, “You feel like you were made for me.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once he started rocking in and out of you with your legs locked behind his back. He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you hard and fast. 

The music outside felt like it echoed inside your head. It made your heart race, like a soundtrack to this ethereal union. 

“Tell me you belong to me,” He whispered, lips brushing against yours as his cock stroked your inner walls perfectly. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“I’m… I’m yours,” You said, breathlessly. 

“That’s right,” He breathed against your mouth. “All fucking mine.” He repeated, kissing along your skin and moaning into your ear, “Fuck, you feel so good.” He said as he sped up again, fucking you nice and deep to show you that you belong to him. “Come for me,” He said, knowing he wouldn’t last too long, “Come on sweetheart, come for me.” 

You cried out as you did, coming undone as he kept pounding into you until he finished inside you. Bucky nuzzled your neck, kissing your skin as he caught his breath. You wrapped your arms around him lazily, feeling his heart racing just as fast as yours was. 

He sighed in bliss as he finally laid down beside you, taking you with him so more than half of your body was on top of his. He kissed the top of your head and whispered, “I missed you like a madman.” 

You smiled, kissing his damp skin as you replied, “I did too. It felt… empty without you.” You lifted your head up to look at him. “Your hair is longer.” You pointed out. 

Bucky chuckled, “You like it?” 

You nodded, “It suits you.” 

He smiled, caressing your cheek again. “I like you in my bed.” He murmured. 

You smirked, lifting yourself up to straddle him properly. You grabbed his semi hard cock and slid it inside you again, gasping as it went in easily. Bucky groaned in pleasure, his hands holding you by the waist, ready to lift you up and down his cock. 

“I really like me in your bed too.” You said, and began riding him until you both came once more.

—

And so, winter passed by. 

You kept everyone safe and warm. Your bond with Bucky was not a secret anymore given you were always seen together. Judging by the smiles on people’s faces when they saw the two of you together, you’d say they were more than happy for Bucky. 

You spent more time in Bucky’s house than the one you were assigned when you first got here that Bucky suggested you move in, and let someone else have the other home. 

“I like having you in my home.” He said one night as he pulled your worn out, bare body into his. He kissed your shoulder, and made sure you were properly warm under the soft furs, in his bed. “Come live with me.” 

So you moved in. 

Your days started and ended with Bucky. With his soft, loving, often demanding touch. His merciless and passionate kisses. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

He was a stern, just, and caring chief to the rest of the village but only you saw the softer side of him. 

The way some evenings he would lay his head in your lap and grumble until you played with his hair until he fell asleep. 

Or how much he loved it when you braided his hair, he’d wear it proudly. 

Or how he always gave you the best bites of food when you dined together. 

The way he would always make sure you had enough fur and blankets on your side of the bed at night. 

Or how he’d always accompany you when you took your little wolf for walks in the woods. 

Or how he’d often tempt you into going for midnight swims with him at the lake. How he’d kiss you under the moonlight, smiling like a lovesick young boy instead of the great chief he was. 

During those moments, you often wanted to freeze time and just stay with him forever. 

Forever… but that wasn’t possible, was it? 

—

The weather, naturally, didn’t stay freezing cold. It got warmer, and warmer as winter faded into a gentle, barely there spring. 

Your little wolf grew, and kept growing. Time, you realised, moved and with it came time to say goodbye. 

Winter was nearly over. Everyone knew, everyone could see it. But nobody said anything. You were still greeted with the same grateful smiles and infinite gifts whenever you stepped out. Steve and Sam never mentioned it, they kept filling your days with stories of their youth and more laughter. 

Bucky, it seemed, had forgotten all about what the end of winter meant. 

And it hurt you more than you thought it would when it came time to confront him about it. It took you two days to build the courage to break both of your hearts. You didn’t want to leave, but you had to, didn’t you? 

He was home early that evening, in a good mood too. As soon as you opened your mouth to say something though, he announced, “I’m going for a swim, come with me?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t feel like it. You go ahead.” 

He smiled, kissed your forehead and left. The sunset as soon as he was out of the door. He’d been going on a lot of swims lately, which again indicated that the weather was getting warmer. 

You waited for him to get back. Your heart breaking in the meantime. 

–

“We need to, um, talk.” You said, once he’d put on clean, dry clothes again. You watched as he dried his hair with a piece of fabric as he turned to face you. 

The buttons of his tunic undone with the tattoos on his chest peeking through, his hair was a damp mess, his blue eyes shining. He was so beautiful. So beautiful it hurt. 

“What about, sweetheart?” He tossed the fabric aside and placed his hands on either side of your waist. “Everything okay?” 

You looked up at him. Didn’t he notice? Couldn’t he see you were wearing the same cloak you wore the day he met you? Couldn’t see you were ready to leave? You spoke with tears in your eyes, “Winter is nearly over, Bucky.” You whispered in a shaky voice. 

Silence. Only the few nearby torches. And the crickets outside. 

Bucky clenched and unclenched his jaw. You could see it through the stubble on his cheeks. “What do you mean?” 

He knew what you meant. You could tell. He was just giving you a chance to rectify what you said. But you didn’t. Instead you said, “Winter is over, it’s time for me to go.” The tears fell. Hot and burning, much like the tension between the two of you even after all these months. 

Bucky was quiet, then he let out a humourless chuckle. “What are you saying? You want to leave me?” 

You sighed as he made this difficult for both of you. “You know what I mean. We had a deal, remember?” You swallowed a sob. “We–,” 

“I swear to gods,” He cut you off, pulling you closer and growling, “Do not fucking test me right now.” 

More tears fell down your face. “Bucky…” You whispered. “I can’t stay here. You know that. It’s what I do, I help people. It’s what I’m meant to do with this…” You sighed, “This magic.” 

“Who said that?” He argued. “Who said you couldn’t choose what made you happy? Who said you had to keep wandering? Huh?” He leaned closer, the tip of his nose touching yours, “Who said you can’t stop once you found a home? A real one?” He gently kissed the corner of your mouth. “You have a home here, you have me. Stay.” 

You breathed in the manly scent of him. Felt the roughness of his stubble against your skin. Felt his body heat. Why couldn’t you stop? Because it scared you. “I can’t.” You mumbled, even as your heart screamed stay, stay, stay. 

Bucky pulled away. His face was stone cold. Emotionless. His hands left your waist and clenched into fists as he stared at you. As Chief, he wasn’t used to people disobeying him. 

“Fine then,” He spoke with a bitter voice. “You want to leave? Then I’ll follow. And my people will follow me no matter where I go.” He spoke with a confidence that only a true leader can have. “So wherever you go, you’ll find me behind you. And a whole village behind me. Is that what you want?” You could hear the stubbornness in his voice, the determination. The promise. 

“You can’t.” You reasoned. “You have a duty here, Bucky. My work here is done, I lifted the dome yesterday and no one even noticed. That just goes to show I’m not needed here. You have a life here,” You said, “Not me.” More tears streamed down your face. Your mind and heart were screaming in contradiction. 

Bucky just stared at you, his heart slowly breaking. Then he said, calmly but fiercely, “I have nothing without you. Nothing.” He stepped closer to you again, “You made me feel alive again, you made me feel like I was more than just a chief, like I was a man again. Just a man who is madly in love with the woman of his dreams.” His words made you weak. “You’re… everything. Don’t leave me.” He pleaded, quietly. 

You couldn’t help but hide your face in his chest as you sobbed. He cradled your head, kissing the top of it. 

“I will send word.” He said, as you sobbed quietly. Your tears drenching his tunic. “People will know where to come find you if they need you.” He reassured you. “Stay with me, be my wife, let’s have children together,” He cupped your face and made you look up at him. His ocean blue eyes staring down loving into yours. “Let’s have a life together.” 

You sniffled. “You’re awfully stubborn.” You said. 

He smiled, his own eyes tearing up. “And you love me for it.” 

You sniffled again. “I do.” You confessed. “I do love you.” 

“And I love you.” He leaned in for a gentle kiss. “Stay with me. You have a home here.” He whispered against your lips. “You’ve helped plenty of people all over this world. It’s not selfish if you choose to settle down now and choose your happiness.” 

“I’m scared.” You admitted. “I’ve never… I don’t know if I can… I mean, I don’t know if–,” 

He cut you off with another loving kiss. “Shh, I’ve got you. We will figure it out. Together.” 

You gave him a faint smile through the tears as you nodded. “Together.” 

And choosing to stay back with him, for him, ended up being the best decision you’d ever made. 

—

Fin.

[sillyboycam]

“I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!”

“Oh would ya’?~”

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

I told you they’ve been on my mind.

Oh yeah, I also watched one of my favourite movies httyd2 and y’know… got a little into it as usual..

I’ve had this idea in my mind for a while, definitely before I watched httyd2 but AFTER watching season 2 of Arcane I decided “Man, this would make a GREAT drawing” .

And here we are!

Anyways this is a sort of “Au” I’ve made, Viktor as Valka, leaving and everyone thinking he’s “dead”.

While I put Jayce as Stoic, because, in retrospect they’re both people of power. Leaders that have a pretty tough life, along with losing their loved one(s). Also, Jayce finally got a beard and you know what Stoic looks like.

Since Valka and Stoic obviously had Hiccup, in my mind I think Jayce and Viktor both adopted a kid to be theirs. (Also to be the next chieftain, since they’re both men of course.) His name is Jekkel, and he’s similar to each of them in terms of appearance. His personality leaning a little towards Viktor’s rather than Jayce’s.

They’d also adopt a little girl named Viyati. (They were especially happy with the name since they picked it themselves) Viyati is the youngest dragon rider of her tribe so far. Her personality is definitely more like Jayce’s as she’s always putting herself and her brother out there. With, of course, boundaries kept in place as Jekkel isn’t usually one to actually want to be out there.

So Viyati always respects him and his needs.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s dragon would be a LightFury,

Jayce’s would be a TimberJack,

Jekkel’s would be a DeathSong,

And (ironically) I think I’d give Viyati a Screaming Death. (ie, smallest little dragon rider gets a big ass scary looking dragon, and it loves her)

>>>>>>

In this Au neither Jayce nor Viktor would die, but, would come super duper close to it many, many times.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s clothes consist of a big white hood rimmed with white tipped red fur, and lots of designs traced onto the hood itself in an off-white.

A black Viking tunic with purple embroidery along the edges and the neckline adorns him, with armour on his chest. Black and scaled.

His arms would be wrapped in white leather from the forearm down, tied in neat bows.

Giant white fur boots with black pants is what he wears on the daily. A spiky belt adorns his sleek waist.

Last thing, he has black scaled arm warmers! In which the white leather wraps around. In a cute bow of course.

>>>>>>

Jayce’s outfit would be a bit more complex, as well as the kids, so if you’d like me to go more in depth I’d be happy too! (Just not in this post, I’m not one to make long descriptions lol)

>>>>>>

Viktor is actually married to Jayce in this one! Their wedding was beautifully done (weeps…) and their rings were gorgeous. This means, the whole family is a Talis!

So that’s; Jayce Talis, Viktor Talis, Jekkel Talis, and Viyati Talis. Also Jayce’s mother, Ximena Talis. She’s a very important figure in the village, a wizard with talents for medicine.

>>>>>>

I have tons of more ideas and I’d love to tell you them all. If you’re interested, let me know!

Anyways this might’ve already been done… but I’m not sure. If it has do let me know! I’d love to chat with that person ;]

Okay,

I hope you enjoy this one!

Love you all

as always art is by me —————> @sillyboycam

[whencyclopedia]

The Bright Ages: A New History of Medieval Europe

"The Bright Ages" dispels the common myth that the Middle Ages were dark, backward and brutal. The book weaves a new history of the Middle Ages, examining over a 1000 years from the 5th to the 16th centuries, arguing that the "Dark Ages" are a modern ideological myth and that the Middle Ages were far more luminous, tolerant and diverse than they are commonly believed to be.

Each chapter of the book examines key developments in time and space across Medieval Europe, starting and ending in Ravenna, Italy. It covers:

the late Western Roman Empire

the Byzantine Empire,

the Goths,

Anglo-Saxon Britain,

the Franks,

the Vikings,

France,

the Black Death,

the Crusades,

Christian-Muslim-Jewish relations in Spain,

the Caliphate,

Hildegard von Bingen,

monastic orders,

the Golden Horde,

the Black Death

and much more.

The book centers on several compelling arguments that are not commonly considered when thinking of the Middle Ages.

First, the authors argue that the Roman Empire did not fall in the Middle Ages. The so-called "fall" of the Western Roman Empire was not understood by medieval people to be an end to the Roman Empire. It was merely a shifting of the centre of power from Rome to Constantinople. In the medieval mind, the Roman Empire was alive, powerful and respected (until it finally fell at the very end of the Middle Ages in 1453). Equally, various rulers in the Middle Ages claimed a connection to the Roman Empire to justify their rule.

Second, the book argues that the Middle Ages were far more diverse and interconnected than most people believe. People moved freely and frequently between countries and cultures, both within Europe and between Europe, Africa and the Middle East. With them came ideas, knowledge and goods. The idea that, during the Middle Ages, Europe contained "purer" nations is an ideological fantasy conjured by nationalists:

Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, imperialist European powers and their intellectuals (often the forerunners of, or scholars in medieval studies themselves!) sought a history for their new world order to justify and explain why whiteness –a modern idea, albeit with medieval roots– justified their domination of the world. They found the proto-nations of the Middle Ages useful as a past to point to for their modern origins, pointing to both medieval connections to Greece and Rome and the independence and distinct traditions of medieval politics. These modern thinkers used the fiction of Europe and the invented concept of "Western Civilization" as a thread to tie the modern world together.

Third, the book highlights at several points that power was less concentrated in male authority than commonly believed. Throughout the Middle Ages, women held positions of power and their power is attested in medieval primary sources. Abesses could be superiors of monks, kings wrote to Hildegard von Bingen for advice, Leif Erikson's sister led an expedition in Newfoundland, and some Queens were responsible for the Christianisation of kingdoms, to cite a few examples.

Finally, the book argues against the connotation of the term "medieval" signifying "backward". In fact, the authors show that even though religion played a more central role in society than in the modern era, the Middle Ages was a humane society concerned with what is moral and good, despite the cruelty that occurred in this era like in any other. The epilogue suggests that European colonisation represented the real "dark ages" by recounting a debate about whether the natives of the New World could be considered human and what rights the Spanish crown and landowners had over them.

Overall, The Bright Ages paints a new picture of the Middle Ages filled with nuance and diversity. Unlike popular Medieval tropes, the Middle Ages were far more complex and less dark than we commonly believe. The myth of the "Dark Ages" is a modern one, and to truly understand, we must dissociate from it.

Matthew Gabriele is a professor of history at Virginia Tech, and David Perry was a professor of Medieval History at Dominican University. The book is written with the general public in mind and is easy to read. Each chapter is engaging and many of them refer to key events in Medieval history that most readers would be familiar with. However, a reader with no knowledge of Medieval history might find the book hard to follow.

Continue reading...

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye - [Vikings Fanfiction]

MASTERLIST

Selethryth, a young lady with strange eyes and prophetic dreams, is both feared and revered in King Ecbert's court. Though he sees her as a powerful tool for his ambitions, it is Ivar, the brutal and unpredictable son of Ragnar, who is drawn to her. As their fates collide, Selethryth finds herself entangled in a dangerous game where her gifts may lead her into the arms of darkness.

Next 》

Chapter 1

The dim light of the sunset filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the room. That light was the most beautiful of the day, yet Selethryth was not looking at the orange sky visible from the window. Instead, the young woman was staring at her reflection in the mirror. She wished she could focus on how the white dress she wore clung to her form so perfectly or admire the way the jewels around her neck sparkled in the fading light. Perhaps she longed to notice how her servant had combed her long hair, making it shine under the warm glow. But she didn't.

Selethryth's gaze was fixed on her own eyes reflected in the glass. How she would have loved to simply look at herself and indulge in the vanity so common among girls her age, like her older sister Eadgifu. But instead, she could only stare and despise what she saw: two eyes, each a different color. One was blue, as clear as the winter sky, while the other was deep brown, like the earth after rain. They never seemed to meet, never seemed to belong together, and in their strange contrast, she was forced to remember how everybody saw her. What everybody called her.

The Witch of Wessex, they whispered behind her back.

Selethryth could feel their stares—the cold eyes that followed her every time she entered the church to pray, as if everyone were waiting for her to burst into flames the moment her feet crossed the threshold of God's house. But it wasn't just in the church where she felt their gaze. At court, the nobles watched her with the same cold curiosity. They tried to hide it behind forced smiles and polite conversation, but she could see the hesitation in their eyes, the way they looked at her as though she might somehow ruin their day with a single glance. They spoke in low voices, making sure their words didn't reach her, but she knew they were discussing her—her strange eyes, the rumors that surrounded her, the whispers that always followed her wherever she went. Their attention was heavy, almost suffocating, and it made her skin prickle with discomfort.

And then, there were the servants. She could sense their wariness as they brought her food, prepared her bath, or combed her hair. Their movements were careful, hesitant, as if afraid that to meet her gaze might invite some curse. As though her eyes alone could condemn them with a glance

The only curse was the one God had cast upon Selethryth the day she was born. The reality of her deformity had shaped her life from an early age. God did not like differences. Any mark, any strange physical feature, was a sign—a sign that the Devil had touched her soul. And nothing could take that away. Her mother, Lady Oswyth, had always told her that, especially when she tried to make Selethryth wash her face with holy water. But it never worked. The water only made her eyes sting. Not even the long days of fasting, meant to regain God's favor, had done any good. And the countless hours of holy lessons—prayers, chants, teachings—hadn't changed anything. If anything, they only made how people perceived her worse.

She remembered the days in her father Lord Godric's castle as sad and lonely, a time when the walls seemed to close in on her, filled with whispers and fearful glances. Her family, devout and strict, had never known how to treat her.

It was during one of those lonely days that they had traveled to King Ecbert's court, as guests. Selethryth's father, eager to seek favor with the King, had hoped the visit would bring some benefit to his lands. And it did—but not in the way her family had expected. For it was Selethryth, not her father, who caught the favor of the King of Wessex.

"My lady is ready," the voice of the woman behind her made Selethryth look up.

"Thank you, Hilda," she said, gathering the skirt of her gown so she could rise more comfortably. "The King awaits."

Selethryth had met the King at the age of five, during a feast. King Ecbert had summoned his loyal lords, as was custom in their lands, to share meals, words, and strategy. Ensuring the loyalty of his lords was something a monarch had to do if he wished to keep the peace.

Selethryth still remembered the first time she entered the Royal Villa. She had been so small back then. The walls seemed to stretch endlessly, towering above her like silent sentinels. But they were nothing like the dark, oppressive walls of her father's castle. There, in Lord Godric's home, every corner seemed to hold a whisper, every shadow a secret. The air was thick with the weight of superstition and fear. But the Royal Villa—Ecbert's villa—was different. The light filtered in through high windows, warm and inviting. The laughter of nobles and the clink of goblets filled the air, and for a moment, she had felt like just another child at a feast, surrounded by the bright colors and sounds of the court. She held no memory of whispers; she was too focused on her dress and the many noble people around her.

Now, after ten years, she had lived many feasts like those, and the whispers had returned. Perhaps they had even grown louder.

"My dear, Selethryth," the King's voice reached her as she opened the door to his chambers.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she answered, bowing with elegance.

King Ecbert was seated on a carved wooden chair in front of a table laden with a simple but rich spread—enough for two, yet lavish for such an intimate setting. There was a roast pheasant, its golden skin crisped to perfection, surrounded by steamed root vegetables—parsnips and carrots—that had been lightly seasoned with herbs. A dish of pickled onions and cabbage sat beside it, the tangy scent cutting through the richness of the meat. To one side, there was a small bowl of soft, warm bread, the edges still steaming, and a wheel of cheese made from the finest milk of the local farms. A flagon of dark red wine gleamed in the dim light of the chamber.

The King gestured for her to sit. "Come, child. You must be hungry."

Selethryth smiled at him before making her way toward the chair set aside for her.

"Forgive me for being late," she said, but the King waved his hand dismissively, signaling that there was no need for apologies.

She nodded in acknowledgment, then reached out to fill her plate with the dishes in front of her. As her hand hovered over the food, her gaze drifted to the empty chair on the other side of the King. Lady Judith was not there. That meant he must have heard.

Selethryth was frequently invited to dine with the King, his daughter-in-law and mistress, Judith, and sometimes with his son, Prince Alfred. But tonight, the table was set for two.

Selethryth was the ward of the King, which granted her many privileges and advantages. And she knew that people were sure she had bewitched the monarch to elevate the position of her family and herself. She could swear she had never done anything on purpose to earn the King's favor. But that didn't mean he didn't believe she had some power—that she was, in fact, a witch...

"The physician told me you had trouble sleeping last night," the King said, chewing a piece of chicken, his gaze intent upon her.

Selethryth averted her eyes, knowing full well that the King didn't want her taking any tonic to ease her troubled dreams. The medicine would dull her memory of them, and she would not be able to recall the visions that haunted her.

"I had a bad headache, Your Grace," she explained quietly, her voice carefully neutral. "My sister thought it best that I take something to ease it."

"So it was not a dream?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

Selethryth shook her head, a faint, practiced smile on her lips. "No, Your Grace," she replied softly. "I was simply not feeling well."

"Good," he said, his voice pleased. "If that's the case, I'm glad you've found a remedy for your headache."

Selethryth bowed her head in silent acknowledgment, before reaching for her goblet and taking a sip of water. King Ecbert could be kind, but she knew he was also a man of immense ambition, and the reason for her position at court was a clear example of that.

Since the Witch of Wessex had entered the King's court, the power of Wessex had grown immeasurably. Before that, no one would have thought that the King with the smallest lands would become the ruler of both Wessex and Mercia. But the whispers—those whispers that never ceased—spoke of superstition. The people believed that her strange appearance, her eyes that were unlike any other, had played a part in Ecbert's rise. They said she had cursed the late Queen Kwenthrith, causing her subjects to turn against her, allowing the King to seize his opportunity and fulfill his ambition.

But that wasn't what had happened.

Selethryth had cast no spell. She had made no curse. She had been five years old. A child, too young to know the weight of ambition or power. She had simply had a nightmare—a terrifying dream of the end of Queen Kwenthrith's reign.

That night, terrified, she had confided in King Ecbert. A few days later, the message arrived: the Queen's position in Mercia had become precarious, and her rule soon crumbled. Ecbert, ever the strategist, saw it as a sign. From that day forward, he had taken her as his ward, believing that she had been touched by God—that her strange eyes were a blessing, not a curse. He was sure that she had been sent to him for some reason; she was a tool for his greater ambitions, a pawn he could use to shape the future of his kingdom.

Selethryth had never quite agreed with him though. His words, even if not touched by hate, were still saying that there was something different in her. To him, she possessed magic, and that was not a sign that God favored her. But the very contrary. The Devil was behind those manifestations, her mother had always told her that.

Lady Oswyth never understood why the King held her daughter in such high regard. She had always seen Selethryth's eyes and dreams to be a sign that the Devil loved her daughter. And she had begged her husband to leave the child to the mad King and never return. She did not want to be surrounded by sinners who favored the way of the Devil. But Lord Godric cared more about the position of his family than sins. That didn't mean that he was grateful to Selethryth. She barely saw him.

Even if she didn't quite understand if King Ecbert was a man with a deep, open mind, or a mad one, she knew that even if he didn't want her to take proper sleep and wanted to know everything about her dreams, he had, in his own way, taken care of her, ensuring that she was well-educated and well-protected. Over the years, his affection for her had grown, not just for her dreams, but for her mind. "You are very intelligent, Selethryth," he often said. She had become more than just a ward to him; she had become a confidante, a quiet observer in his court, someone whose opinion he valued, if only in secret.

Her position granted her privileges—privileges that many other women of her station would never know. She had been given access to the finest tutors in the kingdom, and through them, she had learned many things. She knew Latin and Greek, languages that were considered the foundation of knowledge. She had studied rhetoric and philosophy, learning the basics of logic and debate. She had even studied herbs and medicine with the court physician, who practically lived at her side.

Ecbert had seen the potential in her not only as a vessel for prophecy but as a sharp mind capable of understanding the world beyond the court. Her education was his way of preparing her for something greater. He believed she would be an important ally—an asset to his cause, an asset to his cause, and to the future of his kingdom.

"Alfred told me you are teaching him how to dance," the King said with fondness, as he always did when speaking of Alfred. Everyone knew that Prince Alfred was not Ecbert's nephew, since Judith had conceived him with a monk allied with the Heathens. Just thinking about it made Selethryth hear her mother's disapproving tone, as if Judith were her own daughter. But Selethryth had grown up with Alfred, and he was kind and intelligent. She enjoyed spending time with the Prince and hated the way her mother whispered about him and Judith.

The King's mistress was a very different woman from the rest of the court. She valued culture and opinions, regardless of whether they came from a man or a woman. Judith carried herself with such confidence that Selethryth often found herself admiring the lady. She had committed adultery, and for that, one of her ears had been cut off, but she held her head high, proud and undeterred. Selethryth often wondered how she managed. The young lady still felt everything around her so heavy, both the weight of courtly politics and the harshness of her religious family.

"He wanted to play chess," she answered the King, who smiled. "I asked for a dance in return."

Ecbert chuckled. "He is quite fond of you," he said, taking a sip from his goblet. "I'm glad that you've grown to become such a precious friend to one another."

Selethryth smiled. "As do I."

"Tomorrow morning we are going hunting," the King announced. "Would you like to come hawking with us?"

It wasn't unusual for the King to ask her that, and Selethryth liked riding across the prairies, even though she knew that King Ecbert's son would also be coming. Aethelwulf was never rude to her, but out of all the King's family, he was the one who trusted her the least. He looked at her with suspicion and weariness. Selethryth was used to it, but it was easier to hide in the castle when someone looked at her that way. Out on the open plains, however, there was nowhere to go; she would just have to endure. She knew she couldn't refuse the King, or her father would not be pleased.

"I shall tell my father, Your Grace," she said, bowing to show gratitude. "Thank you, for your kind invitation."

When she returned to the chambers she shared with her family, her mother's gaze was immediately upon her, sharp and disapproving. Oswyth always found it improper for her daughter to have private audiences with the King. It was a matter of status, of propriety—things Selethryth had little control over. But her father, Lord Godric, would never allow her to turn down Ecbert. To him, she was a tool—already labeled a witch—and it was better that she be used by the King than not used at all. He cared little if her reputation was further tarnished, as long as their family grew in power.

Selethryth didn't bother to try and explain herself anymore. There were too many people pulling her in different directions, seeking to manipulate her for their own gain—the King, her father, even her mother. And when it came to the court, she preferred not to think about how they saw her. She could see it in her mother's eyes every day, and it was a pain she didn't want to endure. Selethryth felt like she was tied to a log, floating helplessly down a rushing river. She couldn't escape, and she couldn't drown; she could only keep drifting along on endless, merciless days.

"Mother thinks the King wants you in his bed," Selethryth heard her sister Eadgifu murmur, her voice heavy with an accusation as Hilda combed Selethryth's hair before bed.

"She should quit speaking such madness," Selethryth replied sharply, gesturing for Hilda to leave them alone. Once the door clicked shut behind the servant, Selethryth turned to face her sister fully. "And she shouldn't speak such things when servants are around."

"They already speak about you," Eadgifu said, her eyes narrow with concern, though there was a hint of something else there—something darker that made Selethryth's chest tighten.

"So we should give them more reason to?" Selethryth retorted, rising from her chair and pacing a little, her frustration rising. "Let them gossip, let them talk. It's what they do best, after all."

Eadgifu's face was pale, her lips pressed tightly together, and her eyes flickered nervously toward the door. "You should pray it is the truth," she answered, her voice trembling slightly with worry. "No one but our family and the King know about your dreams, Selethryth. And if he adores you without ulterior motives, people will surely start to believe you're a witch."

Selethryth froze, the word hanging in the air like a curse. Her heart beat louder in her chest. Witch.

"I'm not a witch!" she hissed, her voice a harsh whisper, her eyes darting quickly to the door. She could feel the cold stone walls closing in on her as if the entire castle was listening, waiting for her to make a mistake. She stepped closer to her sister, her face tight with panic. "Please, Eadgifu, don't speak of such things. Don't speak of me that way."

Eadgifu's face softened for a moment, but her expression was still tinged with worry. "Selethryth," she said, her voice laced with a kind of fearful tenderness that only a deeply religious person could have. "You know how dangerous this is. Just a word from Rome and you'll be accused of witchcraft."

Selethryth could feel her eyes fill with tears, "I have done nothing," she whispered to her sister, "They are nothing but dreams. Just dreams. And my eyes..."

"The Lord gives us signs, sister," in her voice Selethryth could feel all her sadness, "Your eyes and dreams are signs." Then she took Selethryth's face in her hands, "I love you sister, I do."

Selethryth looked at her with pleading eyes, "I'm not a witch." She insisted in a whisper.

Eadgifu didn't respond immediately. Instead, she lowered her gaze and crossed herself, as though praying for guidance. It was a ritual, almost automatic for her, as if asking God for protection—something Selethryth had long ago stopped believing in. Not when she had seen the way God treated her.

"The physician will be here soon," Eadgifu murmured, her voice softer now. The physician, assigned to her by King Ecbert, had been a quiet, ever-watchful presence. He helped her, but he also spied on her for the King.

"I know," she said flatly, getting away from her sister so that she could walk towards her bed. Selethryth lied down pulling the covers up to her chin. The night felt colder than usual, and the weight of her own thoughts pressed down on her like a stone.

Her sister hesitated before getting into her own bed, as if unsure whether to speak again. After a long silence, Eadgifu whispered, almost as if to herself, "I pray for you everyday, dear sister." She said, "I love you, no matter what."

Selethryth's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't answer. Instead, she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sickening feeling in her stomach. Tomorrow would come with its own burdens. It always did.

After the physician's visit, Selethryth managed to fell asleep. But this time it was not an empty slumber.

She was flying. It felt beautiful to fly.

The wind tugged at her, wild and unrelenting, as the land beneath her shifted, a vast, endless stretch of green trees and towering mountains. The sky above was a brilliant blue, the likes of which she had never seen before. No castles. No walls. Just people—small wooden houses dotting the landscape, their inhabitants running freely, laughing, untouched by fear.

Selethryth felt the wind in her hair, the vastness of the world spread beneath her, but something was wrong. There was an emptiness in the air, a void that gnawed at her.

The raven appeared, its dark wings cutting through the sky like a shadow. It was not a young bird, but old and tired, its flight heavy with exhaustion. Selethryth's heart tightened as she watched it fly, slow and deliberate, its eyes distant. It was alone. It had no place to land.

She followed, drawn to the raven as if it had some purpose that she could not understand. Below, four figures moved about their lives, unbothered by the raven's presence. But one—one figure, lying on the ground—looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers. She felt a strange pull toward him, but the raven beckoned her onward.

She followed.

The raven soared across the sky, leading her over forests and waters, through lands she did not recognize but somehow knew. The landscape changed, familiar yet foreign. She could not place it. The raven's wings beat slowly, as though it had been flying for too long, its journey near its end.

It was joined by an owl. White, graceful, the owl flew beside the raven, as if they had known each other for years, perhaps even lifetimes. Their wings brushed in a final, bittersweet dance. But then the raven broke away, and Selethryth felt the shift in the air. The sadness was palpable, thickening the sky around them.

She could not stop. She followed. She had to.

The raven flew on. For days? For weeks? The passage of time felt irrelevant. Only the raven mattered, its flight, its weariness, its sorrow.

And then, with no warning, the raven faltered. Its wings failed. It could fly no more. Selethryth watched as it struggled, helpless against the force of its own exhaustion. It landed, clumsy and slow, and the earth seemed to swallow it whole. The raven collapsed.

A snake appeared, slithering from the earth, its scales glistening in the dim light. It circled the fallen bird, and without hesitation, it devoured it whole.

Selethryth's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream, to stop it, but she could do nothing. She was powerless.

And then, the land began to change.

The earth rotted, turning black and foul. The sun disappeared, leaving only darkness. The world around her trembled with fear and despair. The cries of the dying echoed in the distance, the air thick with sorrow.

Selethryth wanted to flee, but she couldn't move. Her wings had failed her, too.

"How have we come to this?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

The darkness closed in around her. Everything was lost.

And then, as if the world itself were ending, Selethryth felt herself falling. Her wings could not save her. She was plummeting, faster and faster, toward the ground. The earth rushed up to meet her, and she closed her eyes, bracing for impact. She knew what was coming.

And then, as she hit the ground, she woke up screaming.

*******

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[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: The eerie figure of a berserker scares you out, but for him, is the opposite. He can only think about you with a single exchange of glances.

PAIRING: Yandere¡Berserker¡König x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.608k

WARNINGS: Mentions of cannibalism (methopore of it), obsessive thoughts, mentions of death, description of dead bodys and dead animals ect.

NOTES: I finally got something for the dream i had about Viking¡König. Just to clarify:A berserker is those ones vikings who fight and duel. This is probably only the start of this character, since there's a lot more things to explore about him. This probably isn't canon or a real representation of vikings/berserkers, keep that in mind please. (König is finally out of my basement again!)

Drapetomania: (n) an overwhelming urge to ran away.

In a land where the cold is enough to twist your guts and relocate them, you need to have extra care. The cold is not merciful, not with anyone. You could die from hunger firstly, and secondly, from the shivering cold in your limbs, it seems like everything here worked against the humans, to purge them out of the ground mother nature raised. The dangers are so much that only a few people live nearby the forest, it's almost unbearable and no one wants the danger in their doors, no. And by a few people, you only know one, yourself. Of course that, you didn't had another choice, if you did, you would never live where the sun doesn't reach properly, where the cold enters through your windows and shush the candles off, where animals lurk outside your humble home, ready to make you part of they visceral circle of life that they call “natural”. In fact, you could hear everything when the moon is up on the sky, the way some animals grunt and whine in pain, you could hear the fights and the smell of blood wouldn't be unnoticed by your nostrils on the other day, you were getting used to that mix of sensations yet, and you think you won't ever do, things are just too cruel around you to get used, you can just…blind yourself for those things and pretend it's not happening, or else, you could easily turn part of their food as well. Just as the poor rabbit's body lay tainted red in the snow, his eyes now white as he doesn’t move an inch, what a miserable life he must have had, but for now, he’s a good (and only) choice of food for you. It's better to just focus on your own security, praying for any god around to keep you safe as pairs of red eyes prey into your windows in the dark. The sounds are scary, you can't name all of them, the forest can embrace them sometimes. But others, you know, like the cold air that can make the trees swing, their branches slapping against each other making a harsh sound as footsteps move on the snow, you couldn't keep your eyelids closed, they were heavy, but the calm state of sleep won't come if you're scared. Nights like this are usual on this land, and you didn’t had the luck to live in the city as the people with more money did.

Speaking of which, as a person that is not contemplated by god, you didn’t have any skills on hunting as well, you’re way too weak even to fight the small bunnies, or maybe, you just didn’t have the courage to kill such innocent living beings. The only thing that kept you alive, was working for the city citizens as a cleaner, doing the work their glorious hands couldn’t do to gain a pitiful amount of coins that didn’t even guaranteed you enough food for the month, only to maintain you working for those lazy people that are too worried about their own noses to have pity on a poor human that lives close to the dense forest. With your worn fabric cloak, you needed to face the temperature to bring some food at home, the tiny bag of coins in your pocket and a wooden basket, you headed into the trail in the way of the city.

You knew the path as the back of your hands, making sure you wouldn’t get lost to suffer and get dead into the woods due to the freezing cold that the cloak couldn’t protect you forever for. In fact, it wasn’t that long and in a short time, your eyes faced the big brick walls around the town, the sounds of the chipping birds and your footsteps being replaced by chit chats and laughters, kids crying over something, and the horses trots. As you walked in, the atmosphere was a tad hotter, perhaps all for the big quantity of people together, their warm bodies would ease the temperature in this more private space, not to mention the big houses and their chimneys blowing hot smoke into the air. That makes you feel less worried, since the cold is the principal worry for you. Walking into the crowd, you already knew which fair stall to go, one with an old man that sells a good variety of meat, even though you didn’t even dreamt on the taste of the more expensive pieces, but for sure, the texture and their looks were a lot better than the ones you buy it, obviously because they’re not made for deplorable ones as you. The ones you bought were a plenty of almost rotten meat, the pieces that were almost going into the trash, and you wouldn’t doubt if they could be no good for your stomach. But you can’t complain, it’s the only thing available, the rest would be only to make you drool over it while your stomach rumbles for some good real food instead of the shitty ones you’d eat due to your financial problems.

When you got in front of the tent, the same man with the bitter expression would ‘greet’ you — That means he would only look deeply into your eyes, already judging you by your looks every time you were there, making that slightly disgusted expression scrunch his nose to you. The butcher was a hypocrite, after all, he’s the one covered in animal blood, he’s the one getting hands dirty, not you. So, you were in that criterion, more hygienic than him, and you bet on any other ones too.

The judgmental pair of hollow eyes suddenly turn behind you, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a smile you’re seeing for the first time. A high pitched voice rings from behind, and you turn into your heels to understand why the crowd is getting closer into a specific place as the man announces.

—”Rejoy, everyone! Our heroes are back, the ones that are always protecting our town from afar, our berserkers!”

Berserkers? You heard about them. A scary group of big bulky men, that would protect the city on the orders of the king, keeping everyone there safe as they trail around with their big ships, that somehow made a deal with the old king to keep everyone safe and not rob everyone. Despite not living in the city, you would still be skeptical about those men around, that at any possible moment could turn sides and attack everyone, decimating the whole town with their bare hands. As your hood falls down, the hidden sun now hits you in the face, giving you some better light to see how they truly were, and if the tales of them being nerve-racking were real. They were, in fact, more tall than average, more stronger with their pairs of muscles and eerie aura, but one specific of them, were responsible for making you petrified. He was the taller of them, the most larger on side and length, but alongside with that, he used a threadbare mask over his face, that looked more like a shirt with badly cutted holes for the eyes that kept him the only one anonymous. To worse things even more, that strange man was behind all of them, just watching as his partners were happy with the citizens, he was on the back, a bear skin from the top of his masked head to his ankles, the biggest of them, protecting him efficiently from the cold they must had challenged as he locked eyes with you.

The heavy blue eyes faced yours. You must be hallucinating in the worst way possible, he’s sure going to come over and break you into two pieces with those big hands. You saw his eyes squinting together, that creepy man must be laughing underneath his mask, laughing at how visibly uncomfortable you got with a single eye contact. As the others berserkers joined the crowd, laughing and telling the stories from the sea and their adventures, that specific one didn’t. He actually started to come to your way, and you were sure you’re going to be killed at daylight and no one would care, they could even celebrate with the man, show your dead body to everyone as a prize, you would have the same fate as the tiny rabbit, and indeed, you were tiny in comparison with him. This might be wrong, but you saw the berserk as the definition of barbarian, men that only wanted to watch blood drop and act like not a thoughtful human.

You decided to disguise the fear creeping from the bottom of your spine, turning on your heels back to face the butcher, pretending that that tower of a man isn’t coming in your direction, maybe you’re just going crazy or he’s playing tricks with your mind that is so easy to put fears into. Your hands fumbled on your pockets, taking the bag of coins messily and letting it fall on the way, mumbling some curses for yourself as you bent down to collect the coins before someone could steal months of hard work and make you stay with no food available. Hopefully, the creepy man would lose you into the crowd and forget about you as you walked like a rat in between people. As your hands groped the gold circles on the floor, you counted them mentally as you kept messing up your own actions due to that strange man frightening you for no apparent reason. When you made sure you had all of them, you lifted your body quickly, before stumbling over something stiff, already whispering apologies because town people are not so receptive to mistakes. There was him when you opened your eyes, that giant man hovering over you and closer than you expected, making you gasp audibly. Your chest hit his pectoral, those blue eyes smudged by his dilated pupils as he kept breathing heavily, you felt like facing an hungry animal, his orbs not leaving your figure for a single moment during that awkward silence that remained, until he finally did something. He searched for something under his cloak, taking out a bag full of something that tinkled on it, a big mouthful bag that he handed to the butcher as if it meant nothing.

—”Let the lady buy what she wants.” His voice wasn't as deep or tough as you imagined. In fact, he had a nasal one that made him look less scary now, and yet, he had a strong accent and his tone was a tad rude, or you thought it was.

The butcher took the bag with no hesitation, his eyes glistening with joy as he cherished the berserker.

—”Oh, yes, yes! Go ahead, madam.” You’re sure this man never was that kind towards you as now, he was even smiling. As you thought, the town is moved by money, and if you were the dirty one, they were the pigs rolling up on the mud, humiliating themselves for something temporary.

It was your turn to let your eyes shine, the big masked man beside you watching as your lips trembled for an answer. The first thing you could say was:

—”I can’t accept this, sir.” You tried your best to keep your voice gentle, still scared for your life. His dense eyes followed yours, he saw how much you wanted that, but was being polite.

—”Take it. It won’t make any difference for me.”

His tone was severe, he wouldn’t listen to any of your complaints. And honestly, it was kinda cute how you hesitated to take his money so easily, König was actually enchanted by how humble you were, your appearance and kind soul slowly creeping into his heart. On the other side, his weird accent and harsh tone was scaring you, not a single thing about him was enchanting like a prince (he was not even close to that), the man covered in blood was trying to bargain you with his money, show you how much he could provide, only to buff up his chest and be a man with high ego like he is, showing himself off to a mysterious pretty lady that probably has half his age. He assumes that, sometimes, he can be a very weird old man, and this must be what got your legs shaking that much.

The visions were distinct from each other. Your poor thing was looking at him like a deer at the headlights, and he was already planning to lift you up, put you on his broad shoulders and carry you out of there like a prize he took without asking before. König would gladly treat you like his, but he still has a little bit of humanity on his mind, and won’t do that…yet. Of course that killing everything alive was munching his brain, slowly turning the carnage he did into something normal, after all, he was “doing for the city's honor” and that would make him a hero anyways, so there's nothing to lose. He was already addicted to that feeling, the dopamine that would fill his mind as a kid yet after killing the most insignificant things like an unlucky little bird he managed to trap and end with his life so easily in his hands, grown into something more. Slowly, that kid with prominent plump and red tinted cheeks transformed into that monster of a man, the one his mother really was scared he could turn into. But that is something of the past, right now, his mean mind could only think of you, the thought of ruining that innocence that still sparkled in your eyes was a delight for his soul. And he would take that in any circumstances, no matter what he will need to do, the atrocities he can commit for you, the bondages limits he would cross to see your cute face, he cannot feel guilty for anything he will do next, everything will be due to you and your abnormal gorgeous features. König is a very, very bad man for doing that and putting the fault on you, that’s for sure.

—”Aren’t you going to choose, madam?” The voice of the butcher takes you two out of the trance, long minutes staring at each other in silence abruptly ended, the sting of fear is visible in your big eyes, but the masked man eyes just squint as if he’s smiling devilishly.

The variety of meat in front of you is mainly unknown, and you don’t even know what they taste like. But little did you know, that you could be the meat of the big man beside you. Eating you in a literal meaning seems weird, but he would love to feed himself on that purity only you have. Luckily, you would not give him any trouble, and let him use your body to fed up himself, that crimson blood dripping into the floor as he slowly sinks his teeths into your flesh, the last vision of your tired of fighting body would be his lower half in the dark, still barely covered as his hands run through you a last time before your heavy eyelids flutter for never more. He would love to have that vision, your soul vanishing into his bare eyes, due to his hands, there’s nothing else that excites him so much as that. And that, by only exchanging a few words with you. Your fate is already crossed into his calloused and dirty hands, you're going to be his in any way.

[demigodsanswer]

royal au: Percy and annabeth making their relationship public

I wrote this whole thing for the modern royals au, then realized you just said "royal au" so sorry if that's not what you meant.

This is really more of a "getting dad's approval" story than anything else lol.

modern royals au

~

Their relationship wasn't -- couldn't be -- a secret. Not after their first hookup had briefly made international news. But they'd been exclusive for three months now, and Percy was introducing her to work colleagues and friends as his girlfriend. It was probably about time they made their relationship officially public.

Annabeth had invited him on a ski trip in the Swiss Alps. It was going to be her extended family, a who's who of the Swedish government, and a bunch of her friends.

"My cousin Astrid is bringing her baby," Annabeth said with a smile.

"I'm always in for a week away with you, you don't need to make a sales pitch," Percy said. "I'm just not a super strong skier." He much, much preferred surfing.

"I do need to give you the sales pitch," Annabeth said, warning him. "My dad is going to be there. And he wants to talk to you and give his blessing before we make anything public."

Annabeth loved her father, Percy knew that. But she also usually just did whatever she wanted. If she wanted to make their relationship public without her dad's approval, she'd do it. He could tell by the sensitive, worried look in her eyes (he'd gotten to really appreciate these sensitive parts of her, not just the tough, scary, witty exterior) that getting her dad's approval was, unlucky for Percy, very important to her.

"Of course I'll go," Percy agreed. "I might just need some coaching."

"No you don't. Just be yourself," she insisted, resting her head on his shoulder. "He knows how much you mean to me. He just wants to make sure ... that you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Percy asked.

"Our future."

~

The ski lodge was warm and cleared out of anyone not on Fred Chase's invite list.

"There are so many tall, blonde people," Percy whispered.

"That's the family for you. Viking stock," Annabeth joked.

They grabbed drinks at the bar -- a white Russian for Annabeth (the idea of milk in a cocktail made Percy nauseous) and an old fashioned for him.

They said hi to a few people, Percy introduced himself, put on his charmer personality, and stuck close to Annabeth.

There was a blip of silence to the left of them, then a murmur of "your majesty" followed by a loud, "Oh! Stop stop stop stop stop!"

Percy instinctively took Annabeth's drink out of her hand, as she moved towards her dad. There were no bows or titles, just a big hug and some words exchanged in Swedish. Percy made a mental note to keep an eye on his Duo-Lingo streak while he was here.

Annabeth walked her father over to Percy, and she took her glass back so he could bow, do the correct greeting, even as Fred Chase begged him to stop, before finally shaking the King's hand.

"It's great you meet you my boy," Fred said with a smile. Percy was relieved. It was like Fred had forgotten about the window incident.

"You and Annabeth go sit, catch up. Can I get you a drink?" Percy offered.

"A Manhattan," Fred said, not specifying beyond that as he and his daughter walked towards some couches by wide windows that showed off pristine show-covered mountains.

"Can I get a Manhattan?" Percy asked the bartender.

"Whiskey preference?"

"Uh ..."

Percy was about to say "anything top shelf," when the woman next to him said: "Uncle Fred's not a fan of anything too fancy," and then she pointed to something on the lower shelf that Percy knew to still be a pretty fucking fancy bottle of whiskey.

"Are you saving my life right now?" Percy asked with a smile.

"Maybe so," she said. She looked a bit like Annabeth, but had a thicker Swedish accent and a baby in her arms.

"Are you Cousin Astrid?" Percy guessed.

"I am, and you must be Percy," she held out her free hand and Percy shook it. "This is Poppy."

She turned the baby towards him. She was as blonde as the rest of the room, with big blue eyes. Percy waved at her, and she extended a little baby hand. Percy let her cling to his finger.

"Lovely to meet you Miss. Poppy," he said. "Not a very traditional name," Percy said.

"My husband works in America. Her first name is Elsa really, after my mother but ..."

"Frozen?" Percy guessed.

"Frozen," Astrid confirmed.

"Forgive me, but you're not a first cousin, are you?" Percy asked. He was pretty sure Annabeth only had one living first cousin.

"No, no, I am her grandfather's brother's granddaughter." Percy tried to map the tree in his head. "Which makes me ... eighth in line for the throne," Astrid finished with a laugh.

"I'm seventh in line myself," Percy said. Astrid held up her drink, which looked like just soda water. He cheered her as the bar tender sat down the drink.

"Good luck with Annabeth's father," she said, before turning him back towards his girlfriend.

"Ah, thank you my boy," Fred said as Percy handed him the drink. "Oh, nice choice on the whiskey," The King said after a sip.

Annabeth offered Percy an approving smile.

"Sorry for the delay, I met your cousin, Astrid," Percy said.

Annabeth grabbed his knee. "Did she have Poppy with her?"

"Yeah, she's --" Percy pointed to Astrid.

"Sorry Percy, I need to see this baby," and with that Annabeth left him alone with the King of Sweden, who was also the single most important person in his girlfriend's life.

The King was on his own couch facing Percy with a coffee table between them. Percy felt like he was in a job interview, or on trial.

"So, Percy, what do you do?" The King asked him.

"I work for the MET, in the antiquity archives. I'm thinking about doing a Ph.D. Hopefully at Oxbridge if they'll have me," he explained.

Fred nodded. Percy was pretty sure it was approval. "Are you excited for the skiing this weekend?"

Percy tried to smile. "I think it'll be all bunny slopes for me. I never really took to it."

"See if you can get Annabeth to stick with you. She'll take off down a Black Diamond at the speed of sound with no concern for my nerves," Fred said.

"I'll do my best, but she doesn't have much concern for my nerves either. On our second date, I nearly lost her in the Paris catacombs because she kept wandering away from the guide."

Fred laughed. "That's my girl. I've always said, I can control Sweden or I can control Annabeth, but I cannot do both."

"You do mean everything to her, your majesty," Percy said.

"Oh please, Percy, call me Fred," The King said.

"I'm sorry sir, but I had my manners beat into my by nuns, I don't think I physically can," Percy said with a laugh.

"Are you Roman Catholic?" Fred asked.

Percy took a healthy sip of his drink. "Officially. I'm confirmed."

"Well, if you ever want to convert to Church of Sweden, we're a bit more open minded," Fred said.

Percy knew, of course, that he'd have to convert if he ever planned to marry Annabeth. She'd be head of that church one day. He had no real attachment to the Catholic faith, beyond an appreciation for the Virgin Mary and general artistic flair that non-Catholics seemed to pitifully lack.

There was a long pause in the conversation, and Fred's eyes seemed to drift past Percy. Percy turned to follow his gaze, and saw Annabeth holding Poppy, bounding her up and down on her hip as she spoke to Astrid.

"Can I be honest with you, young man?" Fred asked, shifting more to the edge of his seat to get closer to Percy, despite the table in between them.

"Of course sir," Percy said, shifting to match Fred's posture.

"If every single person in this room vanished right now, except for her," he pointed to his daughter, "it wouldn't matter to me. As long as I had her with me, I'd know everything would be okay."

Percy nodded, not exactly sure what to say. The King kept talking.

"Losing her mother was a grief I don't think either of us have ever recovered from."

The first time he'd ever seen Annabeth really cry, not just tear up at a movie or sad song the way she was prone to, was after she spent a day with Percy and his mother. It had gone so well, and she'd been so happy. Until they got back to his loft and she broke down crying, overwhelmed with grief that Percy couldn't understand but knew was real.

"If anything ever happened to her," The King said, "I don't know how I'd make it through that."

"Sir, I hope it goes without saying that I don't intend to --"

"No one ever plans to hurt Annabeth, but I've seen it before. She meets someone, falls fast, and then they can't stand up to what being her partner actually means, let alone what being a consort would mean," Fred said. "I don't expect you to marry her any time soon or ever. If you two part ways in the future, though, I want it to be because things simply aren't right in the relationship, not because you have put her in a position where she must chose between you and her birthright."

Percy sat up straighter, waiting for what he knew was coming next.

"I've met your mother. She was an exceptional woman. I considered it a great loss for the monarchies of Europe when she left you father." Percy took another long drink. King or not, if Fred insulted his mother, Percy wouldn't react well. "I don't blame her for walking away. It's not easy to be thrown into all of this. But if you are going to be with Annabeth, I need you to be ready for it."

"Sir," Percy said, scooting forward to the edge of the couch, "my family has tried to push me out of this in every way they can. I speak to my uncle once a year at most, and it almost always ends with him reminding me that he doesn't think I should be a legitimate part of the royal family." Fred looked sympathetic, apologetic even. "But I've managed to stick around in this world because I'm good at being in it. And I like being in it."

"But will you like it as much when she is the center of that world?" Fred asked.

"What do you mean?" Percy asked. Annabeth was dazzling, but the Swedish queen would never exactly grab the same level of attention as a Kate Middleton.

"I've watched plenty of men struggle to cope with their wives getting all of the attention. Prince Phillip dealt with it. King Charles never coped well with Lady Diana. Even, and forgive me, your father could never deal with how much people loved your mother. From my perspective, that drove them apart more than anything."

That was news to Percy. All parties had always led him to believe his mother simply left, gave up on the monarchy and married a school teacher instead.

"I won't watch the same thing happen to my daughter," Fred said.

"If I'm lucky enough to marry your daughter," which he didn't know he would, they'd only been going out for three months, "that won't happen to her," Percy promised anyway.

"Are you sure? Could you give up your job, your career, your own attention to do what ever she needs, whenever she needs it?" Fred asked.

Percy nodded. "Can I be honest with you, sir?" Percy set his drink down as Fred nodded back. "I like my job just fine. I love New York. But --" Percy glanced back to where Annabeth was still cooing at the baby, "all I really want is to be a dad. And if my future is just raising your daughter's kids while shines on an international stage, that will be enough."

Percy could have fooled himself into thinking he'd rehearsed that little speech. He meant every word, but ...three months. That was a short amount of time to make a promise like that. But it seemed to work for Fred, who was smiling and nodding without anything else left to say. Percy picked up his drink and tried not to look triumphant. But he sure had the sprezzatura someone like him needed to survive in this world.

"There's something else you need to know," Fred said. "I won't be King forever."

"Nonsense sir, Annabeth assures me you're going to live forever," Fred smiled, "and she threatened to have me drawn and quartered if I ever suggested otherwise."

"Well, immortal as I may be, I don't plan to still be king at ninety-five." Fred leaned in closer to him. "When Annabeth has had her children, and lived her life a little more, when she feels she's ready, I'm going to abdicate. She knows this. The moment she says she's ready, I'll be stepping down."

Percy turned back to look at his girlfriend, and when he turned back to Fred, Percy found that his eyes were on his daughter too.

"I don't want her partner thinking they have decades and decades to mess around. Within the next fifteen years --" Fred gestured towards his daughter, drink still in hand, "-- that woman will be queen."

Percy stared at Annabeth, and he knew it was true. She wasn't paying attention to him, just mingling with her family like it was any other reunion. For all the privileged and wealth it provided, Percy didn't fundamentally believe in birth right monarchy. He wasn't sure he believed in God, and he certainly didn't think God picked out any of these people to lead any random patch of land in Europe. But Annabeth did seem uniquely born for it.

Annabeth caught Percy looking at her, and excused herself from the conversation she was having. She rejoined them then, Poppy still in her arms. She sat back down. "Sorry about that, I made a new friend." Annabeth picked up Poppy's chubby little arm and waved it at her dad, and then at Percy. "What are you talking about?"

"The slopes," her father said.

"They're so great here, Percy," Annabeth said. "There's a black diamond that --"

"--and how I'm sticking to the bunny slopes," Percy added. "I'd like to not break my neck this week."

Poppy reached out for Percy, and Annabeth handed her over as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Percy guessed he'd made a friend in Poppy too. It wasn't surprising. Babies tended to like him. He felt Poppy rest her head against his shoulder, and he rubbed her back and rocked her gently.

"You won't break your neck. No one ever gets seriously hurt skiing," Annabeth said, like a liar.

"Didn't King Charles once nearly die in a skiing accident?" Percy asked Fred.

"You know what, he did," Fred confirmed.

Annabeth looked back and forth between them, assessing them as a pair of traitors.

"Well, I'll be extra careful," she promised, picking up her previously abandoned drink.

"I'd really feel better if you stuck with Percy," Fred said.

"The buddy system," Percy said. "Anyway, I need you to keep me safe. I'm going to be hopeless up on that mountain."

"I haven't been down a bunny slope since I was nine," Annabeth said.

"It will be fun!" Percy promised.

Annabeth looked at him, and then her father. "Fine, I'll take it easy," she agreed. Fred looked shocked. "Poppy is asleep," Annabeth said. Her little head was resting on Percy's shoulder. Annabeth brushed some of her curls back gently, but the baby didn't stir. For a moment, Percy could imagine their future, their little blonde baby girl. Three months, he reminded himself, you're literally meeting her father for the first time. No babies yet. "I'll find Astrid," Annabeth said, standing and leaving them alone again.

"Take it easy?" Fred said, amazed. "I have never, not once in my life, heard Annabeth even suggest she will 'take it easy.'"

"Maybe we just need to team up more," Percy suggested. "But lets see what she actually does tomorrow. No guarantees she sticks to her word."

"It's progress nonetheless," Fred said as Astrid stepped in to scoop up Poppy. Percy missed her already.

"If you need a baby sitter this week," Percy said, "I'm looking for any reason to get out of skiing."

"I'll keep you in mind," Astrid promised.

Annabeth sat down next to him.

"I'll leave you two alone," Fred said. "I have to make a call to my press team about our statement of support."

"Support for what?" Annabeth asked. She was playing dumb, Percy could tell.

"Your relationship announcement. Have you posted it yet?" Fred asked.

"I'll email Ines right now," Annabeth said with a wide smile. Ines managed her public, official social media. They'd had a perfectly tailored post ready to go for weeks.

When her father left their ear shot, Annabeth squeezed Percy in a tight hug from the side.

"You were perfect!" She said. "And I can't believe Poppy even fell asleep on you, oh my god, that was too cute!"

"Will you really go down the bunny slopes with me tomorrow?" Percy asked, putting an arm over her shoulder.

"Maybe just once or twice, until you get your ski legs," Annabeth said.

"Next vacation, we're going to Tahiti, and I'm teaching you to surf," Percy said.

"Oh a black diamond is too dangerous, but you're going to dress me up like a seal and put me in shark-infested waters?" She asked.

"They aren't shark infested, the sharks live there," Percy pointed out.

"Breaking and entering into the poor sharks' home?" Annabeth said, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

"I thought you had some experience breaking and entering," Percy said. Annabeth looked at him confused. "You remember, you broke in, ate some porridge, slept in their beds --"

"Oh fuck off," she said with a shove. "I'm adding Goldie-lock's jokes to the no-jokes list."

The list in question was: no dead dad jokes, no dead mom jokes, no muppet jokes, and now, no Goldie-locks jokes.

"Fine, fine, just ... never abandon me with your father again," Percy said. "I swear I think he's planning our wedding already, the way he was talking."

"Was it too much? I know he can be protective," she asked, a look of genuine worry on her face.

"No, it was fine, just ... I hope I can live up to expectations," Percy said.

Annabeth took his hand in hers. "He just wants me to be happy. And to not die in a tragic skiing accident."

"I'm adding jokes about you dying to our list, by the way," Percy cut in.

"Deal. But, if the expectation is me being happy then, you do meet it, Percy. I promise."

He lifted her hand and kissed it gently. "You make me happy too," he promised. "How many kids do you want?" He asked, pivoting quickly. Annabeth followed him without stumbling in the conversation.

"Four," she said, sure of her answer. "A girl. Sofia. Then, two years later, another girl. Ingrid. Then a boy three, maybe four years later. Frederick, obviously. And then another girl. You can name her."

Percy smiled. "Do I only get to name her if I'm the dad, or will you call me up in ten years to name her even if we break up?"

Annabeth's face was bright red. "Their father. Their father gets to name the fourth baby," she said, her face in her hands.

"Penelope," Percy said. "I always liked that name."

Her blush faded a bit. "I like it," she agreed. "And you always have been more of an Odyssey boy."

[ckret2]

Conspiracy theories are an important part of the series' identity, what's wrong with them? Some have nasty implications if you really overthink it, but they're generally fun

I didn't say I'm not gonna include conspiracy theories in the story altogether. I said I'm not validating any REAL WORLD conspiracy theories, and I'm not talking about antisemitic & racist conspiracy theories. I'm happy to crack jokes debunking or mocking real world conspiracy theories. I'm happy to create new conspiracy theories for the fic that are totally divorced from any existing conspiracy theories.

But when I'm talking about the ones I'm not playing with, I ain't talking about "Elvis is still alive" conspiracies here. With a lot of the most oft-referenced goofy-sounding high profile conspiracy theories, they're not nasty "if you really overthink it." These theories are, in their very origins, vehicles for hatred toward minority groups. Browse for a while. Notice how many of the conspiracies that have ridiculous traits that make them seem fun on the surface are past the antisemitic point of no return.

Secret reptilian overlords disguised as humans? A deliberate effort to disguise centuries-old antisemitic conspiracies. "Jews secretly control the world," "Jews help others of their bloodline gain & maintain power," "Jews drink the blood of Christian children"—blood libel is a thing that real people believe and have believed for centuries and has historically been used to justify killing whole Jewish communities—and the exact rhetoric used in these obviously antisemitic claims was reskinned for the "reptilian overlords" conspiracy. And which real people do you think believers in the conspiracy disproportionately accuse of secretly being cold-blooded inhuman monsters trying to disguise themselves amongst normal humans? Reptilian overlords is a popular one to make jokes about because "the president's a lizard in disguise" sounds funny when stripped of context—and typically the people making jokes either don't know where it came from or don't care.

Hell, the entire "a cabal of Jewish people sorry we meant 'global elites' secretly rules the world" is one of the oldest, most versatile, and most popular of antisemetic conspiracy theories.

And check out some of the more ridiculous-sounding ones that pop culture likes making jokes about.

Hollow Earth? That one's "inside the earth is a paradise populated by Vikings (the manliest white people!) and Nazis. Yay Nazis!" A whole bunch of secret continent/secret moon colony/hidden geography conspiracies are very "yay Nazis". The Illuminati secretly control everything? For approximately a century, "Jews + Freemasons + Illuminati control the world" has been an extremely prominent conspiracy theory that's branched off into countless other conspiracy theories still believed today (it fed into the reptilian overlord conspiracy, for instance). Adrenochrome? Hollywood (and other "global elites") are trafficking children to harvest a chemical from their blood that they can inject? This is literally just blood libel again. Satanic Panic, the idea that there are real Satanic cults sacrificing children left and right, and the goofy things resulting from the panic like Chick Tracts claiming D&D will damn you? Innocent people were sent to jail for murder because they were gothy enough to be accused of Satanism. People (including the right's favorite targets: immigrants and queer people!) spent decades in jail over accusations that they were ritualistically sexually abusing children—crimes that never even happened. Even less directly harmful shit like "aliens built the pyramids" is only possible if you begin from a position of assuming it's more likely ALIENS built the pyramids than that ancient African people were capable of doing it and then ignore the fact that we do know how the damn things were built.

I don't think it's entertaining for a fictional story to go "hey, you know this conspiracy that was created to promote prejudice against minorities and has been used to hurt and kill people? Wouldn't it be sooo silly if there were a world where it's actually TRUE?? Wouldn't it be so funny if the antisemites and racists and homophobes and fascists were right about everything?"

So no. I'm not gonna use a fictional setting to validate any real world conspiracies; and I'm not gonna bring a whiff of antisemitic & racist conspiracies into a goofy comedy setting.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

The cage was cramped with three angry dragons backed up against each other, hissing at all sides as their flanks were pressed together in a tight circle. No matter what, not a one of them would dare move, no matter who walked by or what sounds that echoed around their bizarre floating wooden prison startled them. The dragons were not the concern.

After all, they had teeth, fangs, and fire...their sister did not. She was nothing more than a walking spindly skeleton covered in exposed flesh swaddled in bundles of shed dragon skin collected from her own family. She didn't have the means to defend herself that her brothers did, though she certainly would try.

The white dragon tinged with the blues of the sea was the most outwardly hostile and antagonistic, hissing and spitting at the slightest movement and sound that neared them, green eyes blazing from the darkness, while his silver and gold brothers each continued to be cautious.

They could survive these small armoured creatures that had the same proficiency to build tools that their sister did. They were mighty dragons, after all. The scourges of the sky and of the daylight. She...their sister was only their dearest little runt.

The trio of brothers would sooner die than allow these trappers to separate them from her. If they dared try, they would lose more than just spears.

However, despite the clear difference in size and threat between herself and her brothers, the scrawny women wrapped in pale skin still growled and hissed as gutturally as her comparatively weak vocal chords could allow. Though, the years had given her the remarkable ability to accurately mimic the communication style of her family and even other dragon species despite her limitations.

But she wouldn't allow her brothers to think she wouldn't fight to protect them as fiercely as they would to protect her. They were her brothers...she wouldn't let these people - Vikings, as she vaguely recalled the word from her very young and foggy childhood - hurt her brothers.

Their mother would never forgive her if she let that happen.

@the-stranger-of-the-hidden-world

(Hi! Been lurking for a little while, hope this is okay as an introduction!)

This was different than their past raids.

Hiccup, from the scout reports, there weren't many dragons on the ship, but the species they held was rare.

Now Hiccup would have worked to free them either way, but he knew the stakes were high with how rare these particular dragons were.

Flying in low, the other dragon riders trailed behind him. His mother and Eret had joined for this particular mission as well.

Hiccup leapt off of Toothless, Astrid doing the same, and they used their flight suits to glide down to the deck, landing without making any noise.

They crept forward, knocking any hunters unconscious that they came across, as the other riders landed with their dragons, Hiccup found himself standing in front of a large cage.

Lifting his mask, his eyes widened in awe at the three dragons before him. But, their stance was rather unusual.

It almost looked like...were they protecting another? Hiccup couldn't tell through the dark.

That wasn't the only thing that shocked him, though. "You... you look like Night Furies, except...brighter..."

He couldn't believe what he was seeing!

But, these dragons needed to be freed first.

As the other riders worked to distract and stop the remaining hunters, Hiccup approached the cage carefully, hand held out towards the dragons.

He spoke softly, in a calm manner. "Hey, hey! It's okay, it's okay...I'm going to break you out, okay? I just need to..."

Approaching the cage lock, he realized it wasn't a pickable lock...but, it didn't appear to be Gronckle iron.

"Toothless! Plasma blast!"

The dragon appeared in the darkness behind Hiccup, blasting the lock, destroying it.

It didn't look like the dragons had any muzzles on, which was good.

Hiccup stepped back, swinging the door open. Seeing how aggressive these dragons were, he wanted to give them space.

"Go on. Hurry, before they can track you!"