#vikings:ff

[danyka-fendyr]

MASTERLIST

Series:

Kingdom of Gold (based off of Faint of Heart and Crown of Hearts by @dreamwritesimagines):

KoG Part 1

KoG Part 2

KoG Part 3

KoG Part 4

Remind Me (based off of Once a Year by @dreamwritesimagines. complete.):

Part 1

Part 2 

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

As the Raven Flies (on hiatus)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Absence of Good: Spencer Reid series

Chapter 1

Oneshots: 

Billy Russo:

Go Fish

Spencer Reid:

Closer

Unknown Subject

Tommy Shelby:

A Bit of a Scrape

Ships:

Kastle (Frank Castle x Karen Paige):

Stay?

Poetry:

Dichotomy

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 1

Here it is! This is the first part of a series I’m writing based on @dreamwritesimagines Faint of Heart series and its sequel Crown of Hearts. I love her series so much (and her, in case none of you have figured it out yet) and would highly recommend reading it! Even if you don’t watch Vikings (I don’t, but don’t tell anybody) it’s really good! Like this fic hopefully, lol. Also thanks to @finnickfoxes for the idea. I hope you guys enjoy! (P.S I’m really into flower meanings so if you think I’m making random choices here haha I’m NOT)

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines (I’m just adding you by default since this is based off of your fic)

Wordcount: 2464

Chapter One: Once upon a time, there was a brave girl who wished to save a Queen and change her world.

It had been a mistake for Isolde to come out onto the deck. Kattegat was a frigid place, as cold as its butcher king. She shivered against the biting sea wind, wishing for weather to remind her of its Queen. She chuckled to herself a little bit at that. Alright, perhaps not weather for the Queen. That would burn through her, make her regret every underestimating the power of a sun.

A sailor passing by looked at her as though perhaps she had lost her mind. She had heard the whispers of the Viking crew when they thought she wasn’t listening. When she slipped the guards sent to accompany her and went to find the hidden corners of this ship, to learn it like she had learned the castle as a child. They all thought she was an enchantress. Thought their Queen was one too.

Isolde couldn’t help but scoff. Her little Snapdragon, an enchantress? Hardly.

 Still, she refused to get too close. If they thought their Queen had taught her some of that dark magic they seemed to think she had, then so be it. Funny as it was though, they did not seem to resent their Queen’s power. If anything, they seemed...well, enchanted by her. Perhaps Isolde had been wrong, and there was some magic to her friend after all.

The ship rocked, and so did her guts. She went green at the gills trying not to vomit up everything she had eaten over the weeks long journey. She wasn’t sure how anyone survived this. She swallowed it down though, noticing the commotion going on and finding enough self-awareness to look at the horizon. Or...lack thereof.

They had just landed.

The ship was a frenzy of Vikings, all of them scrambling to finish docking and get everything set for the ambassador and her party to head to shore. Unlike the retinue assigned to her, the Vikings did not seem surprised to see a woman ambassador. In truth, the courtiers wouldn’t be so surprised if they had half a brain to share between them. The Viking Queen’s mother had always said that peace was women’s work. Granted, she had said it to drive her daughter out of war rooms, but still. She had said it.

After much fuss, Isolde was finally able to plant her feet on good, dry land again. She said a prayer of thanks before finding a quiet place to gain her bearings and perhaps vomit a little. The royal family had sent a party to meet them, but apparently, even Vikings understood that one did not just get off a ship.

Then again, perhaps not all of them did.

“You’ll feel better once you’re on a horse, lady.” The man’s voice was kind, but given the state of her stomach and the fact that the earth beneath her feet would not stop roiling, Isolde paid no mind to that fact.

“Is that so? And how do you know this?”

He, in turn, paid no mind to her rather unpleasant tone. In fact, he laughed, as though her irritation were a joke. Arrogant, barbaric-

“Because I have been on a boat before, lady. We are a seafaring people, I’m sure you were told.”

She somewhat remembered that being mentioned in between the briefings on how they would kill her and feed her corpse to the sharks. She gritted her teeth. Brushing past the tall blond man as though he were nothing, she went off to go find a horse. Much to her misfortune, he followed her. And worse, it did not appear he was going to stop because, horror of all horrors, the Queen had assigned him especially to escort Isolde.

Not just to the castle. Not just for the day. For the entirety of her trip.

“You are Lady Isolde, are you not? I believe I remember my Queen saying that was your name.” 

His horse rode alongside hers, a complacent chestnut stallion. She had not been so lucky, quite literally saddled with a spirited black mare. She wasn’t sure who thought this horse and her would get along, but they were wrong. It was far too stubborn and uncooperative, and couldn’t anyone see just by looking at her that she should have been paired with something much more mild-mannered?

“Yes.” Her voice was clipped. “My name is Isolde, but make no mistake. I am here to be an ambassador to your Queen. I am not here to make nice with barbarians.”

She practically snarled at him. In fact, she would have if she didn’t still feel the pressures of some of her duties as an official ambassador. But this man...this monster, and all of his people, they had hurt her in ways none of them could imagine. Burned down her home, slaughtered what little family she had. Their king had waged his war and had come out the victor, but he had forgotten the ghosts he left behind in the ash.

He seemed taken aback by that, and she almost could have mistaken him for hurt if she didn’t know better. Vikings didn’t feel pain. That had been drilled into her from the very beginning. Vikings do not feel pain. Nothing you do can hurt them once they enter a bloodrage. They do not slow, they do not stop. You have no hope but to kill them.

She had no hope.

“I...am not sure what your people have lead you to believe about mine, but if you would let me, I can-”

“I require no explanations, Sir...”

“Eric. Earl Eric.”

His insistence upon a title inferred on him by a false king only stoked the fire flaring up inside of her. 

“Well, Earl Eric, I do not need your excuses. I have seen for myself what Vikings are like. What they can do. Do not try to persuade me of some hidden gentleness. I know what manner of monster you are,” she spat.

There it was. The anger she knew was inside of him. He was going to fight her. Going to prove her right, going to give her a reason, an excuse to sink the blade hidden at her waist deep into his chest, again, and again, and again. But he didn’t. He merely faced forward, growing quiet, and she tried to swallow down not her disappointment, but her anger, that quiet beast thrashing its head inside of her.

She wondered if it were his hands that left the marks on Beatrice’s corpse. His thumbprints pressed into her neck, etched over her windpipe. She wondered if he would feel pain if she cut them off.

She gritted her teeth, urging her horse forward into a gallop. It was only too happy to obey as the Earl and his mare tried to keep up. 

“You don’t even know where you’re going!” He shouted after her.

She thought about making a very unladylike hand gesture over her shoulder, but that sort of behavior had been trained out of her from a very young age, with clear consequences. So instead she whipped her head around, nearly giving herself whiplash, and bared her teeth at him. Perhaps the barbarian could understand that.

She almost laughed when she turned back though. This was what she liked. To be on the back of a very fast horse, flying through the streets, free as a bird. It had always made her feel better when she was angry. There was something about it that calmed her, made her remember who she was. Back home, her mother never would have allowed this to happen. When they fought and Isolde had tried to go out to work off her anger, her mother had forbidden the stable hands from letting her anywhere near the horses, going so far as to set up a guard outside the stables.

It wasn’t hard to find where she was meant to be. Though the streets of Kattegat were winding, they were no more so than those of her home, and she was an expert at dodging market stalls and passerby. The people stared at her like she was some kind of wild woman, but she didn’t mind that. Let them say she was a witch. Perhaps she was.

Their King’s dwelling was obvious. Not quite as obvious as the castle back home, but Isolde knew the housing of royalty when she saw it. She and her horse came to a screeching halt. She reached down to pat the horse’s neck, breathless and quite pleased. Earl Eric was not far behind though, ready to ruin her mood.

She expected his ire. His irritation. What she got instead was a laugh. A great, booming guffaw.

“Well, you may not be so good with ships, but you are excellent with horses, are you not?”

Isolde scowled at him, but softened looking back to her horse. “What is her name?”

“Inkeri,” he responded.

“And what does that mean?”

“Person with a hooked nose.”

She startled, nearly falling out of the saddle, and he laughed again.

“I jest. It means,” he said, dismounting his own horse and staring up at her with strikingly blue eyes, “beautiful goddess.”

He offered a hand, ready to help her out of the saddle. For a moment, she almost took it. His eyes were very blue, weren’t they? And he had been kind to her but...no. This was how they tricked you. She should know better. 

She dismounted the side opposite him, narrowly missing kicking him in the face and probably flashing him, not that she truly minded. She had shown the whole of Kattegat most of her legs racing around with her skirts hiked up like that. One could not gallop side saddle, however.

“Well? Take me to your leader.”

Earl Eric was staring at her strangely. It was a bit as though he was trying to figure her out but also...something else. He was probably thinking about the best ways to eat her.

“Right this way, my lady.” He smiled at her again, but she ignored him.

She followed him down the halls of the..well, she supposed it was a castle, even if it was nothing like the one at home. Everything seemed so much less...formal here. The women dressed so immodestly it shocked her, and the men were exactly as barbaric as she had expected, all looking as though they expected a war to break out at any moment. Weapons on everybody, even on the women. Imagine! 

She let him lead her this time since the layout was a little less easy to read in here than in the city. Eventually, though, they made it to the great hall. She expected to be announced, but her entrance was far less formal. Earl Eric merely opened the doors, telling her quietly, “The King and Queen are expecting us.”

Isolde surveyed the large room. There was no court held here, not like at home, where courtiers tried to scheme their way closer to the royalty in all their finest. In fact, it seemed almost...homelike. Not truly homelike, certainly, but there was something distinctly uncourtlike. All of those thoughts exited her head when she saw her Queen though.

The breath whooshed out of her lungs when she saw her, a tiny babe in her arms. She seemed to be doting on it, and Isolde registered in the back of her mind that it was most likely the princeling she had heard about. For a short moment her heart ached thinking of what her friend must have been through, but that moment ended when the Queen looked up at her though.

“Isolde!” she cried out, a wide smile covering her face.

She turned that smile to the King beside her, handing him the babe before running to Isolde. She caught her up in an embrace, and Isolde nearly cried out with the shock of it. This never would have been allowed at home. Alright, the rules were different here. Which meant she could be just as overjoyed as her friend.

“Snapdragon,” she murmured, tears pricking at her eyes. “I missed you so.”

She felt the Queen nod against her neck. “I missed you too. But there is so much I must tell you!”

Isolde nodded as the Queen stepped back, taking both her hands in her two rough, calloused ones. When had that happened?

“Come, you must meet my husband. Ivar, my love, this is Isolde. She is a dear friend of mine.”

Her friend turned to face the King, her eyes shining with...love? No, surely not. She had grown up hearing all the same stories Isolde had. There was no way she was fool enough to fall in love with one of these monsters. Certainly not the monster King that had...had ordered the murder of her friends...her loved ones.

But then she remembered. How clever her Snapdragon was. How good she had always been at playing the game. And she breathed a sigh of relief at realizing it was all just an act, even as she went cold at the King’s greeting.

“My wife has spoken much of you, Lady Isolde,” King Ivar said.

Isolde stared him down for a long moment before bowing her head just the slightest bit. It was as much respect as she would show him, and as little as she could get away with giving.

“Your Majesty.” She would not call him her King.

Earl Eric stepped forward, that stupid smile still on his face. The way he acted, Isolde was sure he must be great friends with his cruel King, only confirming her suspicions of him. 

“My King.” He bowed. “Lady Isolde has had a long journey. Perhaps she should rest, and then we may begin negotiations.”

The King looked as though he were going to smite Earl Eric. He must be worse than Isolde had thought if this was how he treated his friends, his people. She wanted to spit at his feet.

Before the King could speak though, her Snapdragon spoke up. “That is a wonderful idea, Earl Eric. I am dying to get Isolde on her own anyway, I have so much to tell her of.”

Immediately, the King softened. Dear heavens, her friend was playing her role even better than Isolde had anticipated. Perhaps she really had enchanted the Viking king.

They were allowed to retire, and the Queen herself decided to show Isolde to her rooms. She pulled her through the halls, smiling the whole way, but not talking much. When they got to her chambers, she closed the doors and made sure they were well closed before turning to face Isolde.

“There is something very important I must tell you, and I need you to listen to me.”

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 6

That’s right everyone, it took me way way way too long, but I have finally caught up to Dream in the writing of this series. (I think. This post has not been fact-checked.) My nails are too long, my polish is not my favorite color and I don’t know why I chose it, I’m watching a movie I have so far flawlessly predicted the characters and plot points of as I write this, and my body is revolting against me in the same fashion it always does, but I’m still here. Oh also I move out on Monday and that’s deeply unsettling to me but now ask me if I’d rather not. Anyway, I guess we’ll start the angst hours now.

Edit: I moved out! It was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. So far so good.

Disclaimer: This series is based off of the lovely Faint of Heart series by @dreamwritesimagines and it’s sequel series, Crown of Hearts. I would highly recommend both series!

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @finnickfoxes

Wordcount: 2763

Chapter Six: The girl was a whirlwind of anger and bitterness, her rage consuming her. She could hear no reason and no advice over the roaring fury in her ears. And when you have a storm inside of you, you also have a choice to make. You can let it destroy you, or you can let it out, and the girl had come too far to be destroyed now.

Isolde did not want to get out of bed today. In fact, she never wanted to leave it again. This time though, it was not because she’d had too much liquor the night before. She was never having a drop of that ever again. Clearly, it made her make mistakes, made her too trusting. Silly girl.

“My lady,” Dagny said, interrupting her wallowing.

“Yes, Dagny?” Isolde rolled over under the heavy furs protecting her from Kattegat’s morning chill.

“Her Majesty the Queen requests your presence.”

“I don’t suppose royalty takes rainchecks, do they?”

“Not that I am aware of.” Dagny smirked slightly.

Isolde groaned but got up out of bed anyway, a slow, reluctant thing. There were dark circles under her eyes from all the unfortunate realizations of the day before, but largely, she did not look half as bad as she felt on the inside. And another plus, she didn’t appear to actually have any large, gaping wounds, despite how she might have felt. By the time she finished getting dressed, she almost looked like she might have been fit to see the queen. 

Snapdragon was in her chambers, cradling her son in her arms and cooing Viking lullabies to him. The sound might have been soothing before, but right now it just made Isolde want to break something. Preferably the earl’s face. Beside the bed was a woman with bright red hair, and part of a smile began to grow on Isolde’s face when she realized who it was.

“Bree?”

The redhead smiled infectiously, rushing over to hug her. “Oh, my darling. It’s been too long.”

“Where were you? They told me you betryaed the king and took a Viking lover and all sorts of wild things, but when I got here there was no you to ask about it, and I didn’t get word from anyone else-”

“Oh little love,” Bree said, “I was on a raid. I’m so terribly sorry that none of these fools told you.”

Isolde stiffened, the smile dropping off her face at the word raid. “You...went on a raid.”

“Yes, yes, I know it’s unconventional for women to fight in wars back home, but come now, you’re more progressive than that-”

“I am not so progressive that I support the slaughter of an innocent people.” Isolde’s voice had gone cold.

“Isolde...what has happened to you?”

“A war, Bree. Did they not tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” There was a hint of something in her voice that was not confusion or curiosity, but fear.

“Beatrice is dead.”

Bree let out a sharp breath. “...Beatrice. Our Beatrice?”

“Yes. But I suppose it doesn’t matter when it’s not your cousin, does it? It doesn’t matter when it’s just war, just a raid. If you don’t know who’s dead then why care?”

“I did mean...” 

“Of course you didn’t. Was there anything else you’ll be needing your majesty, or did you merely wish to inform me my cousin had returned?”

Snapdragon squinted at her in a very sharp way.

“No. Sit.”

Isolde grit her teeth but sat anyway.

“What has happened? Something has happened to upset you. To change your mind.”

“Change my mind on what? As far as I’m concerned my mind has returned to its original state. The truth.”

“You know, some of the poets say that no one actually knows the truth. I would argue you certainly don’t. You’ve hardly given these people a chance.”

Isolde’s eyes flashed. “I gave them more than a chance. I gave them my trust, and they broke that. When were you going to tell me what the earl was really like?”

“Well, it seemed as though you knew. A kind, caring man who would do anything to protect what he loves. That is usually how he presents himself, isn’t it? Or am I just remarkably good at reading people?” 

Isolde scoffed. 

“What? What terrible, horrible thing happened? Tell me, my dear, and I’m sure we can right it.”

“Can you right the fact that your precious Earl Eric is just another Viking warlord who comes home covered in blood rejoicing in the spoil of his kills and bedding every maiden who bats her eyelashes at him?”

Snapdragon stared at her a moment before nodding. “Oh. Well, I see what this is about.”

“You...you do?”

“Yes. I believe I do. But first, allow me to assuage your fears. The only people Earl Eric has ever hurt, to my knowledge, are the sort of men you would condone the harm of. The very sort of men who did all those unspeakable things back at your home are the sorts of men the Earl fights. He has a code of honor, you know. Never women, never children. Only those trying to harm him and those he has seen harm others.”

Isolde did not like whatever she was feeling now. Largely because she didn’t know what she was feeling now. Should she feel lied to still, but by an entirely different person? Should she still feel angry with the earl? It was...confusing. She felt confused, and that was all that she knew.

“...oh. Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s still a...a...a floozy.”

“A floozy?” The queen arched a brow. “Hardly. The girls make their best attempts, but I have yet to see him actually take one up on their offer. Not since you came around, anyhow. Even before then he was far less...active than most of the warriors coming home.”

“What...what do you mean not since I came around??

“Oh, you know. He’s been far too busy with his duties with you to think of anyone else. I suspect he hardly thinks even of himself anymore.”

“I....I said horrible things to him,” Isolde whispered.

“Did you call him a floozy?” Snapdragon wasn’t even pretending not to be amused.

Isolde winced. “Much worse.”

“Might I suggest you swallow your pride and apologize now instead of being mad at each other for months on end and miserable?” 

“That was...specific.”

The look Snapdragon gave her told her not to ask any further questions.

“Go. Go now. And you can talk to Bree later. Earl Eric won’t know what to do without you around. I expect he’s just running around like a chicken with his head cut off.”

Isolde smiled softly. “I expect he is. He tends to do that.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Fine. I’m going.”

Isolde was only slightly ashamed to admit that she dragged her feet down the halls of the castle and deliberately took the long way to any location that Earl Eric could possibly be, starting with the ones he was least likely to be at. Alas, this strategy could only work for so long, and eventually, she came upon him. 

He cut a downtrodden figure, sitting in a back corner of the blacksmith’s workshop studying his work. His eyes seemed to be transfixed by the flames, so much so that he didn’t even notice her until she sat by his feet. She figured if she was going to apologize she had best do it well, and if that involved groveling at his feet, she deserved it.

“I’m sorry.” She spoke quietly, hesitant to disrupt the orderly din of the blacksmith’s workshop as he forged what looked like a battle axe, perhaps. “You did not deserve any of the things I said to you, and there is no excuse for my behavior last night. I hope that someday you may be able to forgive me.”

She was not brave enough to look at him as she said this, and so she did not see the softening of the pain on his face.

“Why? You say there is no excuse, but that does not mean there was no reason. What did I do to provoke such fury?”

He sounded so hurt that Isolde had to shut her eyes against the sharp, stinging wetness building in them.

“It was...it was nothing you did. It was something someone said about you that I was foolish enough to believe, that is all.”

“What did they say? And who said it?”

“A friend of mine. He...he painted a very brutal picture of you coming back from raids, I’m afraid. I don’t believe he knew you had any sort of code of honor, and neither did I until this morning. He also gave a very...detailed idea of your prowess with women.” Isolde hated how bitter she sounded on that last part.

To her surprise, the earl’s next words dared to sound amused.

“Oh? Is that what made you so mad, little icicle?”

She turned her head to look at him, a steady glare on her face from being mocked.

“Worry not. My attention is far too devoted to you now to worry about anyone else. I have a job to do, you know.” He sounded like he was about to laugh.

“I despise you.” There was no malice in it this time.

“A shame. I adore you.”

Her cheeks pinkened quickly, but she told herself it was just the heat of the forges.

“Come on now. We have to go show the queen we made up. She’ll be quite pleased.”

“...the Queen sent you?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s neither here nor there. I would have come myself, the Queen simply sped up the process a bit. I’m a horrible coward and was too afraid to face you, but I was more afraid of what she would do to me if I didn’t. She has that hawk you know.” Isolde shuddered.

“I would never let Eitr hurt you.” He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“You’ll have to excuse me for not taking any chances.” 

Was she even saying anything, or was she just pushing air out of her mouth? Because she might as well have been doing the latter for how breathy that was.

“Come now. You’ll keep us here forever if we don’t start walking,” she huffed.

Then, before she could second guess it, she took his hand to pull him along. He was so surprised that he followed easily, despite being a good foot taller than her. She smirked to herself. Two could play at this game.

“So who is this friend of yours who has such a bad opinion of me?”

And there she was blushing again. “No one.”

“No one?” That was not a happy tone of voice.

“No one at all. Just a friend.”

“Well, she seems to dislike me.”

“I’m sure he has nothing against you. Just rumors and all.” She prayed he would be distracted by the rest of the conversation and not notice the he.

“It is a man then.” The Earl didn’t sound surprised, but he also sounded solidly, definitely unhappy.

Isolde looked back at him to see the frown settling into his face, jaw working hard. Even when he was conflicted and angry he was attractive. She supposed.

“Yes. But no matter. We shouldn’t speak of it anymore.”

“Why not?” He raised a brow.

Well, she couldn’t exactly say because she didn’t want to.

“Because it’s making you moody, Earl. I much prefer your smiles.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little intrigued by this different side to the man. But that was neither here nor there.

“Then coax one out of me,” he challenged.

She did love a good challenge. “Alright then. Floki in one of my old dresses.”

Immediately he was laughing, and so was she. The picture was so comical it was hard not to. The triumphant grin on her face revealed how pleased she was with herself.

“You do not fight fair little icicle.” He was, of course, smiling as she continued to drag him through the halls of the castle.

“I can’t afford to. I’m rather small. I have to use my wits, or else I’d be dead by now.”

“Do not worry about that. I will protect you.”

She stopped, frowning. “You know you don’t have to, right?”

“What?” He stopped dead, causing her body to lurch back when she did not stop with him and their hands remained intertwined.

“You don’t have to protect me just because your queen ordered it. You don’t have to...follow me, or be nice to me, or whatever it is you’re doing, just because she says so. If you don’t-If you would rather not be around me, I can arrange for that.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“I would very much like to be assigned to care for you for the rest of my life. It is my favorite of all my duties, and the only one I never tire of.”

Oh. That was...bold.

“Oh. Well.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I suppose this is ideal then.”

He smiled. “Yes, I suppose that it is.” 

Gently, he raised her hand, his breath brushing across her knuckles and then his lips. Gosh, she wished he wouldn’t do that. She would never be able to walk anywhere if her legs turned to pudding first.

“Right then. On our way.” Just keep walking, just keep walking.

As Isolde had discovered at a very early age, all roads lead back to the great hall. The path they were currently on was no exception, and sooner rather than later they stumbled upon her royal majesty.

Isolde dropped the earl’s hand like it had burned her as soon as they were in the presence of others. She still felt though that everyone was watching them, or that someone had seen. That was one part of the court you never grew out of. The feeling of everyone’s eyes being on you. She wondered if farmers and merchants ever got that feeling or if they were just able to live in peace. She suspected the latter was the case.

“Your majesty.” Isolde curtsied even as Snapdragon rolled her eyes.

“I see you two made up.” She had a knowing grin on her face.

“Yes. We are on much better terms now.” It hurt Isolde to admit it, seeing that smug look on Snapdragon’s face.

“I knew you two wouldn’t be able to stay mad at each other for long.”

“Yes, yes, and you were right.” Isolde rolled her eyes.

Ivar sat by his queen’s side, not saying a word. Instead, he chose to glare at the earl, who was looking a bit gloomy himself.

“What troubles you, Earl Eric?” Snapdragon asked.

Ivar’s frown deepened.

“Oh, nothing your majesty.” He pulled up a forced smile.

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I assure you, there is nothing that you need to be worried about.”

“I suppose I will have to take you at your word. I cannot very well let my husband torture information out of you in the great hall.” 

She half-laughed at herself, clearly very oblivious to how pleased her husband looked at the suggestion. Isolde still could not puzzle out how they were together. Other than the arranged marriage bit, of course.

For a moment, she was just as confused as the queen to the earl’s mood. Just a moment ago he had been more than cheerful enough. Now, he was frowning. She found her answer though looking down to his hands, where one was noticeably empty where it had not been before, fingers fidgeting. Oh. Was that what he was worried about?

Well, she couldn’t very well hold his hand in the great hall in front of everyone where someone could see it and take it the wrong way. Then again, she found herself wishing to see him smile again. So, mustering up what cleverness she had, she managed a compromise. She smiled at him, hoping to wipe away that frown, and gently placed her hand on his arm. It wasn’t there long, only a moment or two. No one else would notice.

It would have worked flawlessly if Bree hadn’t walked in at that moment and had the uncanny ability to see through Isolde’s every move. She had been doing that since they were children and it never got less irritating or nervewracking. So of course, the moment she approached the table she gave Isolde a smile that, if you didn’t know her, might make you think she was planning on murdering you and dumping the body at the bottom of the lake. 

On the bright side though, the Earl was smiling again.

Isolde supposed that she would have to take the small victories and her cousin could wait until tomorrow.

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 2

It’s heeerree! I’m so excited to release the second chapter of this story. Hopefully I will also be bringing back As the Raven Flies soon. This series is based off of the Faint of Hearts series by @dreamwritesimagines​, as well as it’s sequel series Crown of Hearts. I would highly recommend checking the series out! It’s one of my favorites and I really love it. I’ve also been thinking about adding Remind Me to Archive of My Own. I don’t have an account right now, but I might get one and start adding fic there. Let me know what you guys think!

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines​ @rhabakoli​

Wordcount: 2562

Chapter Two: The girl traveled to a far off kingdom to serve her Queen, filled with a hostile people. She would soon find though that things were not what she believed them to be.

Isolde refused to believe it. She had always known her queen was a poisoner, but she had never expected these poison words from her mouth. How had she been here so long that she had gone mad already? 

“Don’t you see, Isolde? They are not what you have been led to believe. You were lied to.”

Isolde’s hands shake when she looks at her queen. 

“I was lied to? Is that it? It was a lie when they burned down my home? It was a lie when they killed Beatrice? You remember my sister, do you not? Or perhaps they have made you forget her along with the rest of our people. Was it a lie when they tried to kill me, when they dragged girls off the streets into dark corners and had their way with them? Believe me, your majesty.” Somehow, the words sound like an insult without meaning to. “I have tried to convince myself that this is all just a dream. If I could not do it, I do not imagine you would fare much better.”

She looked up at Isolde, and the regret was clear in her eyes. For a moment, she stumbles for words. But she is a queen. She is a queen and so it does not take her too long to regain her footing, to remember what it is she has to say.

“Have you ever been to war, Isolde?” 

The quiet words are the first thing she says, but she already knows the answer so Isolde does not know why she lets the silence hang in the air.

“No.”

“Then you would not know. You would not know that men on a battlefield can no more be controlled than a horse in a snake pit. Tame as any man may seem at home in his own bed, throw him to the vipers and he grows wild. He forgets friend and foe, and no amount of coaxing or calming will bring him out of that until the danger has passed. I never ordered what happened to your home. My husband never ordered what happened to your home. All we wanted was a better life for our son. But you have reminded me that sometimes...a better life comes at a cost.” The queen grows somber at this, something deep rising in her eyes that Isolde does not understand fully. “I am so sorry. So, so sorry for what happened to you. For what happened to Beatrice. I do remember her, you know. She was always such a sweet girl. I remember playing with her when we were children. She always made the prettiest daisy chains.”

Isolde gives a wet laugh, finding her eyes full of tears. “You couldn’t make a daisy chain on your life.”

“No, no I could not.” She laughs as well, and suddenly she transforms from the Queen of Kattegat back into Isolde’s Snapdragon.

Isolde wipes away her tears, straightening herself out. “You will forgive me though, my queen, if I find it difficult to bow to your king. If it does not come easy to my heart to love your people. It is hard for me to love a city when I know I cannot sleep soundly in it.”

Snapdragon nods. “I understand. Truly, I do. It was the same for me when I first arrived. I know they have told you horrible things, but please. See what a war would not let you see before.”

“I will do my best.” 

Isolde could not promise her that she would be able to find a way through the smoke and blood that filled her mind even now. Could not lie to her queen.

“For now I suppose I should just be grateful that this means Earl Eric probably has no plans to eat me,” Isolde joked.

Snapdragon snorted. “Eat you?”

“You never know with Vikings, Snapdragon.” 

Her friend gives her a sly grin that she has never seen before. “Well, I suppose you never do know. With the way Earl Eric looks at you, perhaps he really will devour you.”

Isolde blinked. “...What? Snapdragon, are you feeling quite alright?”

She giggled. “Oh, never better. Don’t worry. After a little while here you still start to understand what I mean. The people here are...much more open than back home.”

“I will have to take your word for that, my friend. In the meantime, I do have one favor to ask of you.”

“Ask it.”

“Please, I am begging you, do not make that great blond brute follow me around anymore. He is insufferable.”

“Scared because I said he might eat you?” The queen of Kattegat teased.

Isolde scowled. “No. I merely do not like him. He smiles too much. Someone who smiles that much must be lying to you.”

“And you, my darling, do not smile enough. The great blond brute stays.”

Isolde’s face fell. “My queen!”

“Perhaps he will grow on you. Anyhow, if he is really so terrible as you say, he will make the rest of my people look better in comparison. And no one knows Kattegat better than Earl Eric, outside of the royal family. If I could escort you myself I would, but-”

A pretty young maid stuck her head through the door after a brief knock, dirty blonde hair gleaming softly in the light. “My queen, the prince is fussing and we cannot seem to get him to stop.”

“Say no more, Gala.” Snapdragon gave Isolde a look that said this was exactly why she could not be gallivanting about her country. “I will be there in just a moment.”

The maid, Gala, nodded her hair and ducked back out of the room.

“I shall see to it that Earl Eric is sent to you. Do try to be civil, Isolde.” 

Isolde pouted, but she knew there was no use arguing with her friend. Much had changed with her, and her willingness to assert her authority was one of those things. Not that Isolde could say she was surprised. She had always felt more in the queen but had never had the words to say it. Could not have guessed where they would stand now.

Isolde wasn’t sure whether she was meant to wait here, or to wander the halls until Earl Eric happened to stumble upon her and drag her about this horrible kingdom. She shuddered at the thought of spending most of her time with him. Perhaps she could feign illness.

Before she could make any choice, Earl Eric arrived, as loyal and speedy as a hunting dog. A great, golden hunting dog. Isolde did not bother to uncross her arms from her chest when he entered the room, or to hide her displeasure.

“Ah, my lady! I see something has put you in an ill temper. Do not worry. I will show you all the best sites of Kattegat, and you will feel fine once again!”

Isolde tried not to let her jaw drop in shock. It was simply not proper to comment so blatantly on her mood, no matter how obvious she may have made it. She would add manners to the list of things they did not have in this country.

“Shall we go by horseback or by foot?”

“This is your country,” she huffed. “Should you not know how to travel it.”

He laughed again, and she hated the sound of it. “Some might say I do. The trouble here is that I know how to travel it by foot or by horse, and I thought the choice ought to be yours. So, what will it be?”

“Inkeri has had enough exercise for today, I think.” 

She would rather get her bearings on her own two feet, anyway. If she needed to run suddenly she might not have the horse at her disposal.

“As you wish, my lady.”

“I am not your lady. Call me Isolde. Just Isolde.”

“Isolde the Just, then?”

She blinked at him. “No.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“Isolde.” 

She had heard their king be called Ivar the Boneless. Was that a common practice amongst his people? Should she ask?

Before she could, he answered the question for her. “Here, sometimes we give our people titles. They are usually earned in battle. The king is, of course, Ivar the Boneless. His brother, Valhalla embrace him, was known as Sigrid Snake in the Eye. I thought, perhaps, you had earned yourself the title Isolde the Just.”

Isolde was silent for a moment. “Do you put much stock in the meaning of names here, Earl Eric?”

He paused. “I suppose.”

“And the meaning of your own name?”

“Ruler. Strong.”

“I suppose that name held, seeing as you are an Earl. Do you know the meaning of my name, Earl?”

“No.” He had heard names like it before where she was from, but he himself did not know the meaning.

“It has many meanings, but I have a favorite. My name,” she said, “means ice queen.”

That was not her favorite, but he had no business knowing that. Names had power, and their meanings more so. She was under no obligation to tell this barbarian anything.

“I am not so sure that is fitting, Isolde the Just.”

“You hardly know me, Eric the Irksome.”

He chuckled again. “This is true. Perhaps, though, we should walk as we debate it?”

She realized they had not left the queen’s chambers, and she flushed.

“As you wish.”

The earl took the lead, and she followed behind him.

“Do you have a title then?” It was simple curiosity that made her ask, not any interest in the man.

“Ah...Yes. It is not so important though.”

“Is it not?” She pressed.

“It is not.”

“So then you would not have chosen your title?”

“Perhaps not if given the choice. And you? If you could choose a title for yourself, what would it be, Isolde?”

She let the satisfaction from hearing her name off his lips sway her. Besides, what could it hurt? It was a meaningless title anyway.

“Isolde the Reckoner.”

“A fierce name for a fierce maiden.” He offered his hand to her as he stepped down the ledge into a courtyard, but she did not take it, instead picking up her skirts and taking the step herself. “This is our courtyard.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

“Would you like to see our training area and the stables? Inkeri is there now.”

“Inkeri training? I’m not sure that’s wise. She would blow all of your warriors out of the water. How would their self-esteem ever recover?” The joke was out of her mouth before she could remember that she and this easygoing Viking were not friends.

He chuckled. “Sometimes I think it would do them well to be taken down a peg or two.”

She turned to ice again. His warriors. The warriors that had killed her people.

“Perhaps we should skip the training yard. I wish to see Inkeri and make sure they are treating her well.”

“You have grown to love your horse faster than you have grown to love Kattegat, I fear.” He was joking, but he did not know how right he was.

Dust kicked up at the edges of Isolde’s skirt as she walked, her heavy petticoats weighing her down. It was a miracle she had been able to ride like this at all, that Inkeri could even carry her. Of course, she suspected Inkeri could carry anyone and anything.

“A horse is easy to love. You do not know where it has been, but you can be sure it has not massacred thousands.”

Something dimmed in the Viking’s eyes. “I am sorry for what happened to your people. If I could have spared you...”

“It is easy to turn back the clock and find ourselves the hero. Harder to look to the future and see what may be. Harder still to know that if you did not know me now, you would have spared me nothing then, as you did regardless.”

He stared at her, a deep sadness in his eyes. She almost wanted to take the words back at the watery blue, but she held on. She was still not entirely convinced they felt, despite her queen’s words.

Finally he spoke.

“I hope you never become accustomed to war, Isolde.”

“I fear it may be too late for that.” Her words were clipped.

“An open wound should not claim to be a scar when it bleeds for all the world to see.”

He lead her forward then, without so much as a glance back to see if she would follow. For a moment, she almost didn’t. Then she found herself racing after him, furious that he would dare assume a thing about her. This wouldn’t have happened if not for him. This was-

“This was your fault!” 

The words found their way out of her loud enough for the whole of Kattegat to hear if anyone had been around, but they were out of the wide-open courtyard now, in a more private section of the castle. He turned on her, nothing but pity on his features, and it enraged her further. 

“You did this. You and your people and all of your hate. You saw something you wanted, and you took it, and you did not care for the consequences! You did not care what else you had to take to take a kingdom..”

She tried to throw herself at him, but he stopped her with large, calloused hands, and she realized her mistake. The area they were in was private enough that no one would ever hear her screams. She would end as one of those girls she had seen dragged off into the night, bloody and used up, eyes pecked out by the crows when their bodies were not collected. But he did not move to hurt her, only to restrain her.

“Isolde.” He said her name like he knew her, like he understood, but he could not, could not, could not. “Isolde, it is all right. You are safe. You are all right.”

She struggled out of his grasp, and her body flailed wildly. Her limbs could not decide if they wanted to hurt him or shrink away in fear. Fear coated everything, stuck her mouth shut and made her eyes grow wide, breaths coming short.

“I will not hurt you, and I would not see harm come to you.” He had taken his hands off of her once he realized she did not intend to hurt him anymore, raising them placatingly. His voice was smooth, soothing. “You are safe here.”

She was shaking, the anger still running through her, waging war with her fright.

“I am not safe anywhere,” she murmured, quieter now. “We thought we were safe at home also. And do you know what happened? My sister was strangled to death in her own bed. My friends were dragged into the dark, and if they were lucky, lucky, they found the bodies. So I will not hear of being safe from you.”

And then she ran. She did not care where she was going. Did not care that she couldn’t hear his steps following. She only ran until she found a quiet corner where no one would find her. Then she slumped down and began to weep.

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 4

Okay so I know I’ve said it before like literally last chapter but I swear if I keep writing these way way late at night I really am going to die of like...an aneurysm or something. Oh well. So, I saw that you guys really liked my Billy Russo oneshot. I’m so glad you enjoyed it! I’ve been thinking about writing a oneshot for Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds but I’m not sure if any of you guys would want to read it, so let me know. In other news, I am delighted to announce that I finally got my anons turned on, so...woohoo! Go ahead and send me an ask about whatever guys.

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @finnickfoxes

Wordcount: 2384

Chapter Four: The girl fought many battles, all in the name of revenge. She had been fighting these battles her whole life. But no one has ever truly won a battle in the name of revenge, and so the girl began to wonder. What it would be like to fight in the name of love?

Isolde was loathe to admit it, but she had actually enjoyed the Earl’s celebration. Vikings were many abhorrent things, but they certainly knew how to party. With Snapdragon by her side she had been able to let down her guard, so it really could not be seen as any surprise that she had gone to another party. Apparently, this kingdom had many. And it was only a natural consequence that, a few weeks after her arrival in Kattegat, she woke up entirely hungover.

She leaned over the bed, vomiting into a bucket provided by her own maid. What was the name again? Dagmar? No...no, it was Dagny, if her semi-wasted memories were to be at all trusted. Gosh, why had she thought it was a good idea to keep drinking the sweet spiced wine?

There was a distinct, loud pounding in her head. It kept getting louder too, almost rhythmic. Was that...? Oh, it wasn’t in her head. Someone was knocking on the door.

“Dagny,” Isolde groaned, “I don’t speak your language very well, but could you do me a favor and tell whoever is at the door, hvis du ikke forlater akkurat nå, vil du raskt finne deg selv renset.”

“Miss, I really don’t think I should say that.”

Isolde just waved her arm, squinting against the light that was giving her the most terrible headache. She couldn’t remember at least half of last night, but trusted Snapdragon had kept her safe.

She heard Dagny open the door, and what she heard next was completely impossible to miss because he was the loudest man to ever live.

“Ah, sweet Isolde! How do you feel this fine morning?”

“If you say one more word to me so help me I will tear your vocal cords out with my teeth.”

“Feeling a little ill then?” He chuckled lightly, inviting himself to sit down, not noticing how Isolde’s body stiffened at a man in her bed. “That’s to be expected. You drank rather a lot of wine last night, despite my best efforts to get you to stop. Has anyone ever told you you’re a delightfully affectionate drunk?”

Isolde swore she couldn’t breathe. “What did I do?” 

“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing obscene. You did dance with me more though. You were quite nice once you had a few drinks in you.”

Isolde dared to open her eyes, squinting up at him. He had a strange look in his eyes as he looked down on her. The sunlight had draped itself across the bed like a blanket through her window, staining her red hair sticky with light like golden honey. She was still in her nightgown, hair a mess, green eyes turned to a washed-out rust. She was acutely aware of how awful she looked.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Do you not remember then?” He looked...disappointed if she wasn’t mistaken.

“Remember what?”

“...Nothing.”

Isolde didn’t like that. Didn’t like the insinuation that he could tell her what to know. She bit her lip, wracking her brains. She would be damned if she let this heathen keep her in the dark. Bits a pieces threw themselves together, until it began to turn into a whole story.

“You,” she giggled, “are far more handsome from this angle, Earl Eric. I can almost see why this whole country tolerates you.”

“Oh, is that so, my lady?”

Isolde leaned further into him as they swayed softly. “I am not your lady. Not yet, anyhow.”

“Not yet?” He raised an eyebrow, and she traced it with her fingers, giggling again.

She caught his eye, sobering as she stared into his face. “I always wondered what that must feel like.”

“What what must feel like?”

“Belonging. Having someone want you.”

He pulled her a little closer, close enough that she could smell the ale on his breath, see the slightest dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Kissed by angels, perhaps. He looked like someone an angel would want to kiss.

“I believe, my lady, you will find that in Kattegat.”

“What makes you say that?”

He smiled at her. “Well, you will not remember this in the morning so I suppose I can say it. You have already quite enchanted me. But don’t tell anyone.”

“I would never,” she whispered, still staring at him as if she were in a trance.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. “I think it best we get you back to your rooms before either of us has any more ale.”

“Tell me the dance I just remembered is a fabrication of my paranoid mind and not a result of at least 4 too many glasses of wine.”

“Well, that depends what dance you remember,” he hedged.

“Does ‘my lady’ mean anything to you?”

He winced. “Ah. That dance. Well, anyhow, I came to bring you a healing tonic. I thought perhaps you could use it.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why bring me a healing tonic? Why be kind to me? Is it to gain my trust? Is it so I will tell you my secrets? Or so I will go back to my people saying that the Vikings are not what we would believe them to be and that we should treat them as we would treat our own?”

He stared at her. She wondered if there would ever come a day where her rage would stop surprising him. Then he did something she never would have expected and surprised her.

He brushed a large hand through her hair, and her traitor body refused to even flinch. “I brought you a healing tonic because I hoped I would find you still as happy and kind in the morning. I see it will take more than a healing tonic to stitch up your wounds, little icicle, but that is alright. I expected as much. And I am kind to you because I have needed others to be kind to me before and not found the treatment I so hoped for. It feels a small thing to help you. Feel better soon, my lady.”

He left the tonic on a table beside her bed, leaving the room in the absence of any response from her. Gone just as quickly as he had come. Isolde was surprised at the hollow feeling in her chest indicating that...she missed him.

Perhaps it was best to ignore that.

The tonic he brought did help, and soon she was feeling more like herself. She was dressed now, and Dagny had done pretty braids in her hair again. There were few Viking traditions she enjoyed, but she did not mind having the braids. They made her look as vicious as she felt on the inside. 

She dragged her bare feet across the cold stone floor of her room, holding her head high. When she was a girl, she used to walk with books on her head, trying to look like the kind of girl her mother had always wanted her to be. That had never worked for her.

She slipped her shoes on, tucking loose strands of hair back behind her ear.

“Well Dagny. What do you think? Do I look presentable?”

“Quite, my lady. And if I may...” the girl trailed off, looking almost frightened of her.

“Please,” Isolde said softly. “Call me Isolde. I intend for us to be friends. Like the Queen and her maid, yes?”

Dagny’s sweet face lit up, and she nodded. “Yes, of course. I was just going to say that, if it’s not overstepping bounds, I do believe Earl Eric would think you presentable in anything you wore.”

Isolde blinked, shocked. 

“Well,” she spluttered, “I can’t imagine what would make you think that.”

“Oh, the way he looks at you my la- Isolde. Everyone in the court can see it. You two are quite taken with each other.”

“I believe you are mistaken, Dagny.” 

Isolde blushed. She knew the girl meant well, but...her and Eric? An entire impossibility. It would never happen. Even if, over the week or so that she had been here, she found him to be more tolerable than she had at first thought.

They had, of course, had many encounters since the feast held in his honor. They were all mundane though. Mostly the Queen seemed to set them up in the hopes of Isolde making some kind of peace with her people. Or with the Earl, at the very least. The Queen’s plans had been met with a modest amount of success.

Isolde was, admittedly, no longer openly hostile towards the Earl. In fact, she almost considered him an acquaintance. A nuisance of one, certainly, but still someone she could dance with a time or two at a feast. Now, the several times after that she blamed entirely on the alcohol.

“Apologies, Isolde. I’m sure you’re right. He just seems...”

“Seems what?” Damn her curiosity.

“Smitten.”

“I can assure you, he is not smitten. Certainly not with me.” Isolde rocked back and forth on her feet.

“Of course. Well, I believe he is waiting for you now. You too have another ride scheduled today.”

Isolde smiled at the thought of Inkeri. She loved her horse dearly and was more than happy to go out for a ride at any time. It was how she and the Earl had initially been shoved together. She couldn’t resist a ride, and Snapdragon knew that.

“Well then I suppose I should be off, shouldn’t I?” She smiled at the maid.

“Yes, of course.”

The Earl was already saddled and waiting for her when she headed out to the stables. His horse was steady and calm as ever, while Inkeri looked raring and ready to go.

“It is a lucky thing we found you for her rider,” the Earl chuckled. “No one else would be able to keep up with her, in this whole kingdom.”

“You exaggerate, Earl.” Isolde rolled her eyes.

“An exaggeration is very near a lie. Are you saying I would lie to you, my lady?”

“Without hesitation.” Isolde went to Inkeri, readying her for riding before swinging into the saddle.

The two of them wandered around the kingdom in silence for a while. They had their favorite trailers, winding through the forests. Most days, Isolde preferred less crowded places, which the Earl had come to notice. Initially they had made her tense, but eventually she had come to trust the Earl. Or at least something close to trust. It was a step forward.

“So, your home,” the Earl spoke. “It is very different from here?”

“Very.” Isolde laughed lightly.

“Tell me about it.” He ducked under a branch. “What was your favorite thing.”

Isolde hummed, slipping her lower lip between her teeth and gnawing on it contemplatively. “There was this bed of wildflowers, deep in the forest. I liked to go there. There was honeysuckle, and I love honeysuckle. Have you ever had honeysuckle nectar?”

“I have not. I did not know you could eat any part of honeysuckle.”

“You can. It’s delicious.” She sighed. “I miss it.”

“Honeysuckle nectar?”

“No. That bed of wildflowers. The sunshine. That place.”

They were quiet for a moment, but then the Earl urged his horse forward.

“Come. I have somewhere I want to show you.”

Curious, she encouraged Inkeri to hurry forward and catch up with him. They wound through the trees, heading deeper into the forest than Isolde had been before. They trotted past several beautiful little spots, but the Earl stopped at none of them, intent on moving onward.

“Where are we going?” Isolde laughed as a branch tickled her face, the sun warm on her face through the trees.

“Almost there!” That was his only answer.

He didn’t lie to her. After a while, they came out into a stunning clearing, wildflowers shooting up through the dirt. They were everywhere, covering the place entirely.

It took the Earl getting off of his horse for Isolde to snap out of her trance. She lurched out of the saddle, practically falling on her face. She tripped as she landed on her feet, stumbling forward with some delighted, incredulous look on her face.

The Earl was already in the middle of the small clearing, watching her with a small smile.

“Do you like it?”

She made a small noise of disbelief, heading towards him, but she met some misfortune right before she reached him. Her intent had been to stand beside him, but her skirts dragged in the grass, and so it was truly an inevitably that she should trip on one. Her ankle twisted beneath her, and she did not try to fight it, not wanting to cause injury. She buckled forward, fulling prepared to hit the ground, but she never met it. Or rather, she did, but there was an interceptor.

The Earl had tried to catch her, but her last-minute twist in an attempt to save her ankle had thrown him off. He had succeeded in catching her but had not remained upright himself. She had landed squarely on top of him in all of the chaos, face smacking into his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her waist.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, far enough back that she could see his face. She took a moment, trying to assess the damage. She felt alright, and he seemed fine as well if the look on his face was any indicator. He looked...amused. And suddenly, she could see the humor in it as well.

There they were, in the middle of this field of flowers, lying like a dead fish on the docks. They must have looked absurd.

“Are you alright?” She asked, just in case.

“Never been better, my lady.” He was teasing her now, arm snaking tighter around her waist just like in their dance last night.

She glared at him, but it held no malice. In fact, she found herself laughing. She should have stood, but the humor of it was too much for her, face buried in his chest.

“So, is this what you had in mind?” He inquired.

She pushed herself back up again, so she could get a proper look at him, all smiles.

“This...this is perfect, Eric.”

And there, right over his shoulder, there was honeysuckle.

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 5

Alright, so this time I’m writing in a healthy fashion. So what? I...may have decided this chapter needed to be a little angstier. What? You all got your pound of fluffy flesh last time. Okay...never saying that again ever in my life (I hope). Anyway, I’m moving in like, 2 weeks, which is...wild??? I’m going off to college and I’m not sure how to feel about that but my anxiety high-key says that when the time comes the appropriate reaction will be panic, so I guess we’ll see how that goes. I don’t know what my update schedule will be like when that happens though, so I’ll let you guys know.

Disclaimer: This series is based off of the lovely Faint of Heart series by @dreamwritesimagines and it’s sequel series, Crown of Hearts. I would highly recommend both series!

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @finnickfoxes

Wordcount: 2275

Chapter Five: But the girl was afraid. Because if you fight in the name of love, you have something to lose. So she pushed it down, she ran away. Because she had been made to believe that all of that love was not sweet enough to wash the taste of ash out of her mouth.

Isolde was on her back in the water, floating. It was a warm day, and the water was cool, and it was calm. Which meant she had space to think.

It used to be that on days like this there was nothing more beautiful than an empty mind. There was nothing better than the soft, sweet humming of her soul. It wasn’t like that anymore. An empty mind was a worse prison than anywhere the King of Kattegat or the Queen of her own country could ever put her. She should know. So, despite the fact that she was currently surrounded by water, it was not what was on her mind.

Fire. What was it with Vikings and fire? They burned everything. It didn’t matter to them. They didn’t care.

Isolde found that when she woke from her nightmares, her mouth often tasted of ashes.

She sighed, flipping over and swimming back in. She had found this lake deep in the forest, slipping away from the Earl. She had been avoiding him since their...incident in the flower field. It was far, far too awkward to try to spend time with him now. 

Their friendship was officially on thin ice. Thinner than before, if at all possible. And now the ice was, quite probably, surrounded by a wall of fire. And they were just standing there in the center. Waiting for it to melt. So they could plunge into the icy, watery depths and probably die in each other’s arms, which was definitely not how Isolde wanted to go, and-

And she needed a distraction.

Water rushed off of her when she stepped out of the pool. It wasn’t a proper lake, of course, but it was sizable considering its location. There was water everywhere in Kattegat, the country surrounded by the stuff. 

She wrung out her hair, grabbing her clothes from where they hung off a nearby tree. It was perhaps hazardous to be so bare all alone in Viking territory, but Isolde was no fool. She may not have been able to bring her knife for a swim with her, but it she had one in her belt, and she was a very proficient swimmer and fighter. She was also fairly certain no one would find this place.

About that, she would find herself wrong.

She had just finished getting dressed, righting her skirts, when a boy stumbled out of the forest. He could scarcely have been older than her, perhaps by a year or two. He had the light hair you often saw in the people of Kattegat, so light that it was almost white. His eyes were a striking green color, the same as the grass under his feet.

Isolde immediately had a hand on her knife. He didn’t look like he intended to hurt her or anyone else, but you could never trust a Viking. Still, she decided not to come on too aggressive as she headed towards the boy.

“Hello. What is your name?”

His head spun to look at her, eyes wide as though he had not realized that she too was here in this clearing.

“My name?” From a closer distance, his eyes had a mischief to them, even in his surprise.

“That is what I asked, yes.”

“Fritjof. And yours, fair lady?” 

It was her turn to be surprised. He had slipped into her native language.

“Isolde. Am I that bad at speaking your language?”

He laughed, stepping closer to her. “No. But I thought it might put your more at ease to speak your mother tongue to you. You seem to be in need of comfort since you have not taken your hand off the knife at your belt since I found my way into this clearing.”

“You will have to forgive me. I learned caution the hard way.”

“Coming from your country? I would guess so.” He frowned, brow wrinkling. “I am sorry for what happened to your people.”

“You are not, and it does not do you well to lie.” Clouds shifted over the sun, and Isolde could swear the temperature dropped.

“I would not lie to you.”

“Another lie. I am growing less inclined by the moment to take my hand off this knife, Fritjof. You and all of your brothers participated in the slaughter of my people, and you laughed. You are not sorry.”

“I did not participate, and I would prefer it if you did not throw me in with those who would. To laugh at death is a crueler punishment to those left behind than death itself.”

“You...you were not there?”

“No. I have never been on a raid in my life, nor will I go on one, much to the disappointment of my father. I find much better entertainment here. I feel no desire to go out and kill amongst other peoples. I would leave them to their happiness.”

Perhaps it made her a fool, but Isolde began to relax, exactly as the boy had wanted. Her hand slipped off her knife, though she was still tense.

“I would wish, then, that the king of this country listened more to men like you.”

He smiled softly, one foot stepping close to her across the soft grass beneath their feet. “And I would wish that more women were as fierce and wise as you.”

“A foolish wish, for then all women would be blind and bitter.”

He laughed. “I see no such shortcomings.”

“Then I suppose if your king were more like you he would be blind too.”

“A shame that would be.”

“A shame indeed.”

“You are being escorted by Earl Eric, are you not?” Fritjof asked.

Isolde stiffened at the name. “I am.”

“But he is not here.”

“No. Rest easy. He shall not jump out from behind some great tree.”

He laughed again, and Isolde noticed it was a rather charming sound. Upon closer inspection, she also noticed that the boy was fairly well off. By Kattegat standards, he was well dressed, and he was very well-armed. A son of a lord then, perhaps?

“Then you are abandoned. I suppose I shall have to be your guide back to the city.”

“Shall you then?” Isolde raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it cannot be risked that a lady as passionate as you be left to end up lost to the forest.”

“You make an excellent argument, Fritjof.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it. She ignored the thrill she got when she did.

They began their walk back to the city, arms intertwined. Fritjof’s pace was not too fast, as though he sensed her dread to head back to her handler. As if she needed one.

“So tell me, how is it the Earl loses track of his charge so easily? Has he not been attentive to you? I cannot imagine being able to take my eyes off someone so pretty for more than a moment.” 

Isolde blushed a cherry color but told herself his flirtations meant nothing, that here they were no more than the words of a friendly stranger. 

“Alas, the Earl is charged with a rather uneasy ward. I have been trying to escape his attention for a while now. I prefer to explore Kattegat without his eyes on me.”

“Just his, though?” The real question was clear.

“Other company is welcome,” she assured him. “I merely find the Earl can be...stifling sometimes. Are you a friend of his?”

Fritjof seemed taken aback by the mere suggestion. “No. No, most definitely not. He is a bit bloodthirsty for my taste.”

Isolde felt herself go cold. “Does he...participate in the raids?”

“Some.” Fritjof nodded. “Not yours, but others. He comes back with renewed spirits every time. A great plunderer, champion of his people.”

The disgust was clear in his voice, and Isolde felt it rising in her own throat. She couldn’t picture it, and yet she could. All too easily the faces of murderers, of the terrible men she had come to know in her life, were replaced by the Earl. She felt as though she could not breathe.

“My apologies, lady. Have I upset you?” He sounded concerned, though she could not bring herself to look at him.

“No. I am sorry. Please, carry on.”

“I know the Earl by reputation alone. He does have quite the reputation around here, you know. He is rumored to be a womanizer.”

“Is that so?” The more she heard about the Earl, the easier she found it to hate him.

“Yes. Of course, how can he not be? The women throw themselves at him so when he comes home drenched in the blood of others.” Fritjof’s dancing green eyes were dark now with something that could only be described as hatred.

Isolde felt lied to. The Earl had portrayed himself as sweet to her, innocent even. A jovial man she could not have pictured taking joy in killing, any killing. And now she had come to find out that it was all an act. A ruse to draw women like her into his bed. She grit her teeth, wishing she could grind them down to dust in her skull.

“I am sorry,” Fritjof said. “I should not share such nasty rumors. Especially not with one who must spend so much time with him.”

“Perhaps...I do not have to spend all of my time with the Earl.”

Isolde looked to him, the boy with the hair so light she wanted to run her fingers through it in the dappled sunshine falling through the trees. His eyes were so bright, so different from the other men she had seen here. So different from any man she had known.

“Perhaps you could meet me with me sometimes. Show me the way around Kattegat.”

He paused for a moment, thinking, and she feared she had stepped too far, crossed a line. But then he spoke.

“I would like that very much, my lady.”

They were nearly returned now, and she dreaded the night in her chambers, dreaded whatever meal she would share with the royal family tonight. How could she look in all of their faces when all she would see in them was a burning village?

“I must go now, but I will see you again?”

“Even if I must search the entire kingdom to make it so.”

She smiled despite herself. “Go. Off with you and your dramatics.”

He grinned at her one last time before dashing off into the evening light, his pale hair making his figure easy to trace as he left.

She stood and watched him for a moment before finally making her way back into the castle. Like a hound on the scent, Eric found her not long after. This was the moment she had been dreading most.

A man she had slowly grown to trust, who had charmed her into some faith for the people in general, had been lying to her this whole time. Perhaps not directly, but his entire personality had been a ruse. He, the entire person she had known, come to tolerate, if not like or love, was a lie.

“My lady,” he said, beaming at her in that stupidly disarming way that he did.

“Don’t call me that.” She turned away from him, her words shards of ice hanging frozen in the air.

“Isolde?” 

She could picture his face even as she started to walk away, see the way his brow furrowed and his eyes grew so sad. She hated it. Hated that this invented version of him was so deeply embedded in her mind. And it caused her to lash out.

She turned on him, hair a bright whirl under the light of the torches. 

“You lied,” she spat. “You lied to me about everything. About who you are, about what you want, about your people. This entire thing is a candy-coated, sugary lie. And I believed it. I’m the idiot who believed that you could be different, that you could all be different from what they said. But you know what? They were exactly right, everything they said at home. You’re barbarians who will say anything to get me to sympathize, and I’m the little fool who fell for it. 

“Well, if everything they said is true after all, I suppose none of this means anything to you. I suppose I could say whatever I want and it wouldn’t hurt you, because Vikings don’t feel pain.” She took a step towards him, livid, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “I suppose I could tell you that I regret dancing with you and that I didn’t mean a word of anything I said drunk. How does that feel? How does it feel when I say that I wish we’d never visited that stupid field of flowers? How does it feel to know that I wish I had never met you? I can say all of that, every word of it, and it will never mean a thing to you. Just like you never meant a thing to me.”

She didn’t want to hear what he said next. Didn’t want to hear him lie to her, tell here it all did mean something truly, and that he cared about her. If she had to hear that from him tonight she was sure she would be sick.

So she ran. Turned away again and stormed down the hall, ignoring the broken cry of her name behind her. The royal family would be expecting her at dinner, and she supposed that she had to pull herself together again. After all, this kingdom was all about appearances, wasn’t it?

[danyka-fendyr]

Kingdom of Gold: Part 3

Okay so it’s already 1 AM and I clearly shouldn’t be writing this but hahaha I really should be because I was supposed to have this out a couple of days ago and here we are. I’ve been really obsessed with Criminal Minds lately so I’ve been spending most of my time binging that from the beginning. Low-key love Dr. Spencer Reid with my ENTIRE. HEART. Anway, I hope ya’ll like this chapter. This story is based off of @dreamwritesimagines Faint of Heart and Crown of Hearts series. You should definitely check it out if you haven’t seen it yet. It’s great!

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @finnickfoxes

Wordcount: 1590

Chapter Three: The girl would have to face many monsters to save her friend and to save herself. But perhaps the greatest monster was closer than she could have imagined.

“Miss?” A small voice interrupted Isolde’s sobs.

Isolde wiped at her face, trying to stop the tears. She knew where she was now, but it was cold comfort. She had learned when she was very young how to stop crying though, and she was aware enough to be able to pull herself together.

“Yes?” She looked up at the girl as though nothing had happened.

She was pretty. Honey blonde hair and wide blue eyes. She looked...familiar. After a moment, she remembered that this one was Snapdragon’s maid. What was her name...Gwen? Gabrielle? ...Gala. It was Gala.

“Are you alright, miss?” The poor thing looked so sincere.

“Yes, I’m quite alright. Thank you for asking. You are Gala, are you not?”

“Yes, my lady. And you are the diplomat.”

Isolde had to make an effort not to scoff. She highly doubted the Queen would refer to as a diplomat. The title would infer too much respect upon her. Perhaps the Queen of this land, but not the Queen that ruled her.

“Yes, I am the diplomat. I am afraid you caught me at rather a bad time. Never mind that though, Gala. Everything is alright now.”

When she stood, she seemed to tower over the girl, such a tiny thing she was. Isolde was not particularly large, but there was something very small and sweet about this maid. It was impossible not to like her, so Isolde didn’t bother trying not to. Besides, she was no true Viking. She was just a girl, and a girl Snapdragon trusted at that.

“May I ask what upset you, my lady?”

“Please, call me Isolde.” She took a step forward, gently brushing past the girl and stepping out of her little alcove. “And it is no great matter what upset me. Earl Eric and I merely had a disagreement.”

“You fought with Earl Eric?” The girl seemed surprised.

“Yes. Does he not often have people find him unpleasant?”

There must have been something to the confusion on Isolde’s face, because the girl burst into laughter.

“No my la- Isolde. Everyone likes Earl Eric. In fact, as soon as the festivities for your arrival are over there is to be a feast in his honor, by order of the Queen.”

“A feast in his honor? Why, whatever did he do? Set the record for most annoying Viking?”

Gala giggled again. “No. He saved our young prince in a time of trouble, and for that we will be forever in his debt.”

“Well, I shan’t.” And with that, Isolde picked up her skirts and started heading briskly down the hall, deciding that she was under no obligation to continue listening to such nonsense. “A feast! In his honor! As if I would go to something like that.”

Isolde had one weakness, and that weakness was feasting.

She couldn’t truly be blamed for her fondness for them. Not only was there good food but if you went to the right feasts, you were just as likely to find dancing too. Nothing the royal family would have hosted would have had real dancing, but as a child, she had gone to village feasts in times of plenty. She had fond memories of dancing her small feet off to harvest songs.

So she could not say she was truly surprised that she found herself here, even if the feast was to honor her mortal enemy. As long as they honored him with roasted pork, she could make no complaints. Besides that, she felt somewhat duty-bound to be here and to present a good face as the representative for her country.

This party was still nothing like anything she had enjoyed when she was at home, though. The women wore less clothes, more revealing, and the man drank even more ale than the men at home, which was saying something. There was a sort of rabid energy hanging in the air, an anticipation of...something.

Isolde’s seat was high on the banquet table, quite close to her Snapdragon. Unfortunately, so was Earl Eric’s. Perhaps she had found something to complain about after all.

The Earl, for once though, did not seem interested in her. So Isolde counted her blessings and ate her food quietly, focusing on it. It was all very different from what they ate at home, but still delicious.

“Are you liking the food, my friend?” Snapdragon leaned over the table to squeeze her arm lightly, smiling at her. 

“I am. It’s quite good.”

“Well, do you know what I always say?”

“I know many things you say, your majesty. You may have to be more specific.” Isolde laughed lightly.

“I always say,” the Queen said, “that a turn around the dance floor makes food even better. Wouldn’t you agree Earl Eric?”

No. No, she was not doing this to her.

“Why of course, my Queen!” 

The Earl was in fine spirits tonight, of course. He probably would have told the Queen he enjoyed eating toads if she had asked.

“Well then it seems our course of action is clear, does it not? You, Earl Eric, should ask a lady to dance.”

“Of course. As my Queen would bid me.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“Perhaps Lady Isolde could use a little bit of amusement.”

The Earl looked at her, something softening in his eyes. She wondered if he was remembering earlier, thinking about how weak she was. 

“I believe you are right. It would please me to see the lady smile. Shall we?” He stood, offering Isolde a hand.

“I am not much for dancing-”

“Nonsense! You loved to dance as a girl.” The Queen gave her a knowing smile, and Isolde knew she was fighting a losing battle. 

“I suppose a dance should not harm me.”

She let the Earl lead her out to where couples were dancing. This was the sort of wild dancing that she could get used to, not the ordered structure of the courts but something carefree and beautiful. It would have been impossible to do in her proper skirts, but luckily, her old clothes had been replaced with clothes in more the Viking style, which gave her more room to move. She had even had her hair braided for the night since Gala had looked so eager to do it. 

She tried not to think about how Viking she must look right now. She did not look so different from how she normally did. She did not...she was not one of them.

The Earl took her hand, turning her to face him. 

“Isolde the Reckoner.”

“Eric the Irksome.”

“We meet again.” He smiled, eyes twinkling as though this were all just some big joke to him.

“That we do. Let us hope this meeting is brief, my lord.”

Isolde really wished he would stop getting that look in his eye as though he were a kicked puppy.

“I should hope it isn’t. Your company is most enjoyable, Isolde.”

“It would suit you better to move your feet and not your mouth.”

A determined glint shone in his eye, and Isolde soon found what caused it. As it turned out, Earl Eric was a proficient dancer. So good that he kept her entirely out of breath. He spun her round and round, at what point managing to get a giggle out of her. She couldn’t help it. Despite her best efforts, she was having fun. Much though she may dislike the Viking dancing with her, she enjoyed the movement, the thumping of the drums pounding up through her feet. She could get used to this, truly. 

They danced more than one song, she was certain, but she could not tell how many more. Everything was moving too fast, her feet a blur beneath her. Soon enough though, they stopped, slowing down.

“So tell me my lady, how do you like it in Kattegat?”

“I do not like it much at all.” She didn’t see the point in lying to him. “I like your Queen and I like her maid, and that is all. I have no intentions to like any of the rest of this kingdom.”

“Well, perhaps your mind can be changed in that regard. There are many wonderful things to be seen in Kattegat. A mere sunset may have you changing your mind.” He spun her under his arm.

“A sunset is not a city, my lord, and it is certainly not a kingdom. Perhaps, if your people wished for me to like them, or to like Kattegat, they would not have slaughtered my people.”

“Tell me, little icicle, who taught you such hate? You do not seem the kind to find it on your own.”

“It was brought to me upon battleships. Perhaps you have seen them, sitting in your harbor.” Perhaps it was intentional when she stepped on his foot.

“I have seen many a warship in Kattegat. Some of them foreign. Where do you think my people learned the art of war? We watched.”

“Then it is a good thing that I watched. I have learned much from your people Earl, but one lesson I will not forget. Trust no one completely.”

“A sad lesson indeed,” he said.

He let go of her hand, bowing to her as the song ended.

“Many of the lessons I learn seem to be.”

“I shall see you soon, Isolde.”

“I shall see you, I am sure, Earl.”

Now if she was not very much mistaken, there was more food to be eaten at this feast.