#halfdan ship

[thelirofnorthlands]

A little appreciation for the most lovely couple in Vikings 🥰

Helga and Floki ❤️

(photos or edits on them do not belong to me)

[therealvikingstrash]

Happy Birthday @ulfrsmal 🤗

[charming-merlin]

You n Halfdan, adventuring all over the place. A shippp!!!

my beloved adventurer <3 I would love that. Thank you so much!🥰 I love him so much.

[sadist-babypink]

i've read the first uhtred-series book aka the last kingdom and here are some things that series-only watchers might find intresting or that i just feel like need to be mentioned:

uhtred's grandfather was also called uhtred. and he is related to a former king of the bebbenburg area.

a lot of what happens in the series when uhtred is an adult and after ragnar's death actually happens when uhtred is still a child and with him

the battle where alfred's brother gets wounded and then dies for example. uhtred is present there but on the dane's side but since he's a child he doesn't fight in the shieldwall. but both him and brida do wound english soldiers

ragnar takes out the leather band keeping his hair together whenever he intents to kill someone, so uhtred knows beforehand when someone is about to die

they celebrate yule quiet often

brida in general is batshit crazy in the first book. she licks someone else's blood of her spear at one point

brida and uhtred swim naked in a pool in london when they were there with ragnar (only mentioned in s2) and brida shamelessly feels him up infront of beocca who does not like that at all

uhtred's uncle sends and assassian on him who joins ragnar's men, then when he tries to kill him, brida is the one to save uhtred

more than half the book takes place before uhtred is 18, ending with the fight where he kills ubba (about the middle of s1) which is also his first actual shieldwall

brida joins ragnar later than uhtred when her village is raided. ragnar sees her hitting a woman (her aunt) and he likes that so he takes her under his protection

uhtred meets alfred the first time when he is still a child (13-14ish) and alfred is about 19

prior to ragnar's death, uhtred and ragnar the younger only really met each other for roughly one season when raganar came back from ireland

uhtred spends a lot of time with ubba (and ivar the boneless, but i don't think he is mentioned in the series) prior to joining the english due to ragnar working with them

ubba has two brothers who play a role, ivar and halfdan. they both have their own army but both die in ireland?

brida has the miscarriage at roughly 14 or 15 years old. her and uhtred have a sexual realtionship at that point but neither think of it as more than friendship

ravn is present a lot and uhtred sees him as sort of a grandfather. both him an brida spend a lot of time with him and tell him what is happening around them, and he then in turn explains to them what it is they are seeing.

ragnar's and uhtred's father-son relationship is way more fleshed out

ragnar has another son younger than uhtred named rorik or something but he is sickly and later dies. most of the things a father would teach their son ragnar cannot teach rorik because of his sickness but uhtred learns it from him, like killing boar or how to steer a ship

uhtred meets beocca multiple times before he is under alfred's command

unlike in the show, the danes and english obviously do not speak the same language. alfred always brings interpreters with him who are priests. uhtred serves as interpreter quiet often too, for both sides

uhtred later has sex with a servant girl alfred also had sex with and he takes pride in it that he isn't all guilty and whiny about it like alfred was lol

uhtred lies A LOT. it's insanely funny. mostly he lies to beocca and alfred, but alfred later manages to see through it

at one point uhtred claims ragnar is hitting him, which is a lie, but ragnar is amused by this

brida also lies a lot. she claims she was edmund's niece, then when confronted by aelswith she claims she was his bastard. both brida and uhtred know this is not true.

aelswith calls brida a prostitute at one point

brida does shrooms on the reg lol

whenever uhtred learning how to read is brought up during a meal with him, aelswith, beocca and alfred, beocca says "amen" and its actually histerical

uhtred is related to aethelred of mercia (not the one from s2 but his father?) and stays with him for some time before he is brought to alfred. he is also related to aelswith i think?

uhtred already met aethelflaed when she was still a baby

in the book when uhtred joins the english he is put on a ship called heahengel (it means archangel (bonus fact. engel means angel in german. language sure is interesting)) by alfred. there he meets leofric who "commands" the crew of the ship

leofric is discribed as small but muscular by uhtred. beocca actually has red hair and a crippled (?) hand. uhtred has long light hair, the same as rangar.

all of alfred's ships have names relating to the bible. uhtred thinks this is stupid.

uhtred's seax is called "wasp-sting". there is also a whole story involving who made his sword and the seax but it's too long to tell here. basically it was uhtred's first follower who is pagan and used to be a smith at bebbenburg.

leofric immedietly dislikes uhtred and uhtred immedietly likes him. i think this is partly because of the way leofric talks to him since it's similar to ragnar

they become good friends after fighting together. uhtred even calls it "love" which i think is really cute

leofric wants to command the fleet of 12 ships alfred has after the previous commander (who is some earlsman who did not want the position at all) deserts. but since he is the son of a slave and can't read, he can't, so he encurages uhtred to get alfred to give him the command over the fleet. however, uhtred first has to learn how to read from beocca at 18 years old lol. also leofric claims that while uhtred will command the fleet, leofric will command uhtred so it's kind of his fleet in a way

the whole fleet thing leads then to the marriage we all know about from the show. uhtred was very against marrying since he was not intrested in it. he also has some very outdated (not for the time but for today) opinions about marriage

a lot of battles they win out of sheer luck. like guthrum losing half his fleet to a storm. this is an event that actuall occured in real life btw.

uhtred straight up lies to udda to make him paranoid talking about having read the auguries and that he's gonna die lol

uhtred is in his first actual shield wall in the battle against ubba. the whole battle happens very differently from in the show. but uhtred does fight udda 1v1 and wins only bc udda slips on someone's guts

uhtred DEEPLY DISLIKES young odda

leofric is the one to tell uhtred about his nephew osferth and that he is alfred's bastard

and this is very different from the show i think: uhtred has no qualms lying about being christian. as a child he even thinks its funny. when he's older he does it to get what he wants (the command over the fleet for example). he'll talk about god and christianity because he believes it will win him alfred's favour but doesn't actually believe any of it. alfred sees right through him, naturally.

once i've finished the next few books i'll make more posts like this btw

[author-morgan]

Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you. 

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage. 

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared. 

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.  

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep. 

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching. 

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there’s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[catinasink]

full ship list:

(most recent update - 7/19/24)

xingqui x chongyun x gaming

xingqui x chongyun x xiangling

noelle x sucrose

kaeya x albedo

kaeya x rosaria

rosaria x sucrose

kirara x lynette x xiangling x charlotte

zhongli x childe x kaeya

cyno x tighnari x albedo

alhaitham x kaveh x cyno x tighnari

wanderer x albedo

heizou x kazuha x tomo x wanderer

collei x sucrose

collei x fischl

eula x amber

jean x lisa x rosaria x eula

venti x lyney x aether

venti x wanderer x aether

venti x xiao x aether

neuvillette x wriothesley

saiguu x makoto

chiori x chevreuse

chevreuse x emilie

chevreuse x clorinde

clorinde x navia

tao x sucrose

yanfei x tao x xiangling

kirara x gorou

thoma x ayato

ayato x itto

itto x gorou

lumine x lynette

xinyan x jin

barbara x xinyan x xiangling

barbara x fischl

razor x fischl x bennett

mona x fischl

layla x miko

layla x faruzan x mona

shenhe x yelan

ningguang x yelan

beidou x ningguang x keqing x ganyu

kokomi x sara x ei x miko

ei x sasayuri

chiyo x sasayuri

furina x lumine

yanfei x shinobu

peruere x sandrone x columbina x rosalyne

dottore x rosalyne

dottore x pantalone

sara x yoimiya x shinobu

ayaka x lumine x yoimiya

ayaka x nilou x kokomi

nilou x dehya x dunyarzad

nilou x dehya x candace

dehya x candace x setaria

childe x wanderer

halfdan x dainsleif

fujin x lingyuan x changsheng

cloud retainer x mountain shaper x moon carver

cloud retainer x guizhong x madame ping

guizhong x havria

jeht x lumine

[erikatsu]

DANCING AFTER DEATH — dainsleif

✦ SUMMARY: a heathen's holiday is the perfect time to slip away with the man you've been seeing in secret

✧ PAIRING: dainsleif x fem!reader (princess!reader)

✦ WARNINGS: non-explicit [n]sfw. soft & vanilla. more intimate than anything and disgustingly soft. forbidden relationships. royal au. sorta fits bmfd universe but not really. self-ship coded. pet names (elska mín and prinsessa). reader is shorter and has longer hair (as this is catered to myself) otherwise no other physical descriptors.

✧ WC: 2.03k

Music and laughter were muffled by closed doors, a party raging in celebration of Valisblot among other things such as new hope, the ending of the cold season, and remembrance. While Khaenri'ah had no natural light of the sun, the people knew how to build a celebratory bonfire that shined just as bright. 

You hated celebrations. 

There was too much commotion, too many people. You never could quite focus on someone who was talking when there was background noise. It always had you feeling overwhelmed, which would lead to subconsciously tuning out conversations and staring off into space. Sometimes you wondered if people thought you were rude, especially when you would disappear after making your rounds. Maybe they didn't even notice, trying to get the attention of your father– the king. Either way, nobody said anything to you. 

Well, nobody except for your guard, Dainsleif. Then again, that was to be expected. Afterall, he was more than just your guard. He was your best friend, your most trusted confidant, and above all else he was the love of your life. It was why he was always quick to notice when you’d sneak away, coming to find you in the hall that overlooked the city as per usual. 

It was a shame really, that your relationship with him had always been tip toeing and hushed conversations late at night. Being the crown princess of the nation meant you were off limits. Had you been the second born, things would have been different. Instead of spending time with your possible suitors, you spent your time with Dainsleif. 

Surely, those close with both of you knew there was more than what was on the surface– take Halfdan for example. He teased the two of you constantly, even though you always brushed it off by telling him to not speak of such nonsense so openly. Your little brother, who was more interested in fighting than he was into romance, could sense it too. It would come as no surprise if your father also knew. 

“Calling it a night already?” The amusement in his tone brought a small smile to your lips as you stared out towards the villages, hearing cheer and joyous laughter from below.

You let out a sigh as he came up beside you, just barely brushing your shoulder with his own, “You know that I don't do well in group settings like this.”

He turned to look at you, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips while a certain sadness glinted in his eyes, “I'm well aware. However, a princess must gain the favor of her people and keep it when she ascends the throne.”

You frowned, the thought of your future souring your mood. With what was in store for you, the only place for him was within the guard. He wasn't someone you could openly have or hold, and you knew it wasn't fair to him to keep him by your side forever. What you had must end.

“I do not wish to take the throne,” You admitted, refusing to meet his eyes. “I'm weak when it comes to the art of the sword, I am not brave, and I am far from a socialite. Khaenri'ah deserves better than me at its head. It deserves a ruler who can confidently lead the knights into battle and who can soothe unrest as it arises.”

Dainsleif knew you were fairly reserved– not necessarily timid, just anxious about talking to those you didn't know– and it was true you weren't the best at swordsmanship, but he’d never seen a better archer. When push came to shove, you would be a great leader. You just needed a little faith in yourself.

“I'm going to abdicate the title of crown princess,” you decided at that moment, shocking not just him but yourself as well. “I was not made for this path. I was born into it, and continuing this way doesn't lead to a future where I am happy.”

You didn't give him a chance to ask you to  elaborate further, walking away from him without another word. He followed, quickly catching up and falling into step beside you. Dainsleif should’ve known you had something up your sleeve as he caught a glimpse of a devious smile– sighing as you took off running down the open corridor. 

He chased after you, just like he always did when you were in a playful mood. You always avoided emotional topics, evading them through childish antics. Making him chase you through the halls of the palace was nothing new, which is exactly why he should have seen it coming. 

Your soft laughter filled his ears as you came to a stop, pushing open the large wooden door that led to your quarters. You slipped inside, covering your hand with your mouth to muffle your giggles, heart racing from the adrenaline coursing through you. He wasn't too far behind, walking in just moments later. 

He shook his head, slowly approaching and pulling you in by your waist, “You can't run away from everything, elska mín, including your duties.”

“Foregoing my birthright is not me running from anything,” you assured him, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. “It's me choosing my own happiness over a life of misery.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing and soaking in your words. You would give up security, riches, and the throne for him? If you were running head first into the unknown instead of staying in a life where you weren't happy, then that made you braver than you even knew. However, a shred of guilt nagged at the back of his mind.

“I can't ask you to do that for me,” He muttered, slowly looking at you. “Not for me.”

You grinned, leaning up to press your lips against his, “I don't recall you ever asking.”

Dainsleif was unsure if you were actually convincing or if his own feelings and selfish desires overcame any apprehension he felt about your decision. Maybe your kiss also held a little power, reeling him in the rest of the way as if sealing a deal. He didn't hesitate to return your affection, moving his mouth against yours. 

He always seemed to melt into you, almost losing his inhibitions as soon as you touched him. You were intoxicating, all his worries about any trouble the two of you could get into if you two were caught faded away and were replaced with the sensation of lightheadedness and spinning. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you'd used some form of magic to drop his guard and have him forgetting that you were a princess and he was a knight. 

All too soon you pulled away, lightly biting down on your lip before stepping back. You held out your hand, waiting for him to take it before walking him over to the bed. 

He could remember the first time as if it were yesterday. He’d been apprehensive– seeing that only the king's bedchambers were completely private– not wanting anyone to walk by and get curious only to discover what you two were doing. It was one thing to fool around with your guard, but it was completely another for the princess to not remain pure until marriage. 

Now, it barely bothered him in that sense. Drawing the curtains on the canopy bed made it harder to see, and blowing out the candles made it nearly impossible. The only time that happened was if it wasn't late enough, as he hated not being able to see you. 

Despite all the walls he'd put up to keep you from weaseling your way into his heart, you'd had them crashing down to reveal a side of him that nobody got to see. The vulnerable side. The side that a knight couldn't show. Feelings lead to weakness, and if he showed his, it would lead his enemies straight to you. 

Instead of an ironclad grip on the hilt of his sword, his hands could finally be used for gentle touches. They way he lightly ran them over your waist before slowly undoing the strings of your corset– just as he was now– raising goosebumps on your arms and nearly causing a shiver to run down your spine. The mouth that directed orders now softly peppering your skin and lips with tender kisses. He showered you with love through his devotion, making up for the times he couldn't openly hold your hand or kiss your cheek. He always took his time, savoring every moment as if it could replace all the time lost between you two, hands gliding over your body to commit it to memory.  

Somehow, Dainsleif managed to leave you dizzy and weak in the knees just from a simple touch. Time would speed up yet simultaneously slow down, blurring everything together until he brought you back to reality with a delicate kiss. There were instances where you swore you could feel the warmth of a sun you never knew through him– comfort and safety with a single look. To him, you were the moon– elegant and a guiding light in the darkness. Both balancing each other yet fated to be kept apart. 

Perhaps that was why it was so easy to fall for him. 

You remembered a time where you thought you'd never be able to have him, and this very moment proved all those doubts wrong. It gave you the hope that one day, you could see the real sun and show it to him so he would know what he's provided for you. Because for you, there was nobody else and there never would be. 

There is nobody else you'd step down for. There is nobody else you'd completely give yourself to. There is nobody else that you would want to love you– no one who would in the same way he did. 

Even though it was a tightly kept secret, and all the possible consequences of being caught weighed down on your shoulders, it was worth the risk.

It was worth every time you lied with him, just like right now. Hiding away in the canopy bed, the low light barely allowed him to see your face while the two of you became one. It was worth every kiss, every roll of his hips, and every “I love you” that fell from his mouth. If absence made the heart grow fonder, it showed when the two of you were together. 

Getting tangled up in the sheets, forgetting the outside world as if you were the only two who existed. It was as freeing as it was enchanting– to be able to lose yourself in someone you loved. Both of you soaked in every chance you had, memorizing every detail of the other. Like the way your fingers dipped into the skin of his shoulders, how he nibbled on your bottom lip to keep from being too loud, or the way he showered you in kisses after the fact before resting his forehead against yours. 

After calming down and cleaning up, he'd pull you into him– one arm wrapped around you, another running a hand through the tresses of your hair all while you laid your head on his bare chest, tracing patterns into his skin. Comfortable silence fills the room, almost lulling you to sleep even though he'd have to make his exit soon. 

But, before he can even think about sitting up, you do. Turning to look at him, giving a playful pout that he already knows he can't say “no”, you say, “Stay with me tonight.”

“If I'm not at–”

You press a finger to his lips to keep him from talking, “We both know Halfdan will cover for you. Besides, a heathen’s holiday means even most of your subordinates will be hungover in the morning. I'm sure they'll think their missing captain was kind enough to let them recover for the day.” 

He could never deny you. The way his soft chuckle was free of concern as he drew you back into him filled you with excitement. He pressed a small kiss against your lips, “I'll make sure they give their thanks to you, prinsessa.”

TAGS: @dottores @dxlucs @no3tis @suyacho @mxnjiros @aroalbedo

[genshinconfessions]

I literally owe the fic writers in this fandom my life and firstborn children. All of my favorite ships? I only ship them because I read fanfics of them. Wriolette? “The Care and Keeping of Dragons” by Maleficar. Kavaitham? “Scarlet sands and crimson eyes” by ThatRingBoy. Halfdan x Dainsleif? “Before the fall, and after” by crows_corner

Yes this is just me putting out fic recommendations because I’m obsessed. However, every single fic writer for Genshin has my soul and y’all are amazing 😻

the care and keeping of dragons

scarlet sands and crimson eyes

before the fall, and after

[ritual-unions]

Hey it’s me again 😃Too shy to ask without the anon. I looked at some of the NSFW dialogue prompts and I really liked 50 and 97 for Halfdan the black 🤩❤️I’ll be so happy to read something with those or anything for him to be honest ❤️Thank you 🙏

Here you go! A little possessive Halfdan to make your day better.

She dreams of the mark of the wolf on the moon and of herself full with child and wakes with a curious sensation. She has not laid with anyone in two moons. The dream confuses her, as most do. They have alway been difficult to interpret. It leaves a permanent scowl between her brows the following day. 

In King Harald’s tent she whispers words into the threads of the tapestry before, hoping to find some clarity in the pattern that forms beneath her fingers.  

“Enough with your seiðr,” Halfdan all but growls into the cup of ale before him. Since his decision to sail with Bjorn back to the Mediterranean he has been in a sour mood, taking it out on anyone who is not his brother. 

“I only know how to tell the truth,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “I would tell you yours if you let me.” 

“No.” 

She laughs, a musical thing that causes Halfdan to roll his eyes. “Do you ever shut up?” 

“You are not angry with me,” she states plainly, nodding her head in Harald’s direction. He is surrounded by some of his warriors, laughing at something one of them said. He watches the two of them out of the corner of his eye, trying to pretend as if he does not care about their closeness. 

“He thinks he can take you away from me,” Halfdan says, lip snarling as he stands, hovering over her form. He reaches out, caressing the steel collar around her neck. 

“I am his,” she says knowingly, feeling the sudden heaviness of the collar, the mark of a slave. “He will not let me go.” 

Halfdan laughs. He knows this. Knows that his brother would never willingly let go of his völva. The same one who had predicted his success in every battle, told him the secrets of his enemies, aided in placing the crown of each ravaged kingdom on his head. 

“He should know by now you’re mine,” Halfdan says, dipping his head into her’s. There is a hint of ego laced in his tone that she has not seen in many years. She smiles at the sight of it, of the memories of nights shared in each other's arms. Harald knew of their relationship though he turned a blind eye, preferring to believe in the purity of his völva, as if he was some holy Christian. 

Halfdan leans in closer, his lips barely grazing her’s. “And I don’t share.” 

His breath is hot against her mouth. She tries to press her lips against his, searching for a gentle kiss shared between lovers, instead she is met with hot intensity. She steadies herself against his chest, clinging to his shirt so that he does not knock her over. His hands wrap around her waist.

“He won’t let you go,” Halfdan mumbles against her mouth. 

“Halfdan, I -” she worries that he will try to steal her away in the night before Harald’s ships can sail off, that kidnapping her will cause an even larger rift between the two brothers. 

He spins her around, nipping at her neck and ear. "But I’m not going to stop leaving marks on you,” he growls in her ear as he pulls at the laces of her dress, hurriedly tugging it off of her shoulders. His teeth graze the exposed skin causing her to hiss in pain. “Until I’m sure everyone knows you are mine.”

"Even my brother," he says, pushing her down, over the edge of the table, lifting her skirts around her waist. Tugging himself free from his trousers, he pushes the tip of his penis inside of her and she smiles to herself, suddenly understanding the mark of the wolf.  

+++

I wrote this very quickly, any mistakes are my own. Trying to keep anything 500 words or less is impossible, but thanks for sending in the request - trying to write for other characters was challenging but fun.

[braveclementine]

Thanos

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

TWO YEARS LATER

"This is the Asgardian refugee vessel Statesman. We are under assault. I repeat, we are under assault. The engines are dead, life support failing. Requesting aid from any vessel within range. We are twenty-two jump points out of Asgard. Our crew is made up of Asgardian families. We have very few soldiers here. This is not a warcraft. I repeat, this is not a warcraft."

Elizabeth didn't know what to do. She was hiding her children behind her, while also trying to hold one of them at the same time.

Halfdan and Astrid were behind her, only eight years old. They both looked so much like their father, though Astrid had straight black hair unlike Halfdan's curly hair. They both even had his blue eyes and Halfdan had the point to his chin and Astrid had his smile.

They were holding the two of the two-year-olds: Tove who was female and also had Loki's blue eyes though Elizabeth's brown hair and Hogun who she had named after her best friend on Asgard and had been Tove, Hogun, and Sages' god-father. And now, he was dead.

The entire ship was on fire and she was crouched down. She had tears in her eyes, looking across the ship to see the brave fighter, Heimdall, laying down on the wreck in pain, bleeding.

"Hear me and rejoice." A new voice said, a voice that belonged to one of the invaders. He walked past Heimdall and Elizabeth clutched Sage harder in her arms, the little two year old girl, her eyes wide open, but she didn't cry. "You have had the privilege of being saved by the Great Titan."

Elizabeth often had trouble holding her tongue, especially when she was passionate about something or someone she loved. But she bit down hard, tasting blood, because now as not the time to get sassy.

"You may think this is suffering. No. It is salvation. Universal scales tip toward balance because of your sacrifice."

There were more of the alien creatures, walking around, over dead bodies. She kept a hand on her sword and she knew her children were behind her, with knives in their hands. They would fight, but they would all die. And she didn't know how to protect them.

Loki was standing in the front, with Thanos in front of him. He was the only one standing, in fact, his back to her.

"For even in death, you have become children of Thanos."

Thanos was standing over Thor now, who was unconscious on the floor. "I know what it's like to lose." He addressed Loki, as the others moved around, stabbing the Asgardians that were still breathing on the floor. Elizabeth tightened her invisibility spell as much as she could like Loki had taught her, but she wouldn't be able to hold it much longer, not for six people, even if five of them were children.

"To feel so desperately that you're right, yet to fail, nonetheless." He bent down, picking up Thor with one hand. Thor choked and moaned in his grasp. Elizabeth could hear Astrid crying quietly. "It's frightening. Turns the legs to jelly. But I ask you, to what end? Dread it, run from it, destiny arrives all the same."

They were pointing a weapon at Loki's head now, all of them surrounding Elizabeth's husband and soulmate. She had to throw an arm out to stop Halfdan from rushing them with his knife, though she wanted to do the same.

"And now, it's here. Or should I say, I am." Elizabeth saw the purple gem that was already in his gauntlet. The first of six infinity stones for him to have.

"You talk to much." Thor grumbled, blood pouring out of his mouth. He'd lost an eye in their fight with Hela, they had lost so much in the fight with Hela. And now, they were losing everything. All of the people. Soon, the Asgardian population might be wiped out of existence completely.

"The Tesseract. Or your brothers and wifes' heads." Thanos said. Elizabeth's breath hitched when Thanos pointed at where Elizabeth was hiding the rest of her family. "I assume you have a preference."

"Oh, I do." Loki said. "Kill away."

Thanos pressed the gem to Thor's head and one of the lackeys immediately approached Elizabeth's corner. She wasn't sure if it was a lucky guess or if her shields were down, but she decided to act.

Thrusting Sage into Astrids' arms, she dropped the spell completely, lunging at the monster in front of her. The two of them immediately started combat, their swords clashing against one another. She was strong, far stronger than anyone Elizabeth had ever fought before, even T'Challa in his vibranium suit or Tony in his titanium one.

"ALL RIGHT, STOP!" Loki shouted.

"We don't have the Tesseract." Elizabeth could just barely hear Thor say as Thanos stopped what he was doing to him over the clashing of their swords. But she couldn't stop her fight with the woman in front of her- if you could even call her a woman. "It was destroyed on Asgard." There was a pause and then, "You really are the worst brother."

"I assure you, brother. . . the sun will shine on us again."

Elizabeth pushed away from the woman, retreating a few steps to come to Loki's side, holding a hand out at her kids so they would stay put.

"Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian."

Loki immediately retracted the glowing cube in his hand, "Well, for one thing, I'm not Asgardian. And for another. . . we have a Hulk."

Loki tackled Thor out of the way and Elizabeth shielded her kids as Hulk came through, bashing Thanos over and over. Loki came to her immediately, wasting no time in pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.

"I love you." Loki whispered. "Forever."

"I love you forever." Elizabeth choked out, kissing him again.

Hulk was defeated far to easily for Elizabeth's liking. Thor attacked him when Hulk was down and was immediately captured in metal by the Squidward looking dude.

Elizabeth glanced over and Heimdall met her eyes. He nodded slightly to Hulk and she understood immediately.

"Get to Hulk." She whispered to her children and they went quietly, making their way to the Hulks' side.

"Allfathers." She heard Heimdall start to say. "let the dark magic flow through me one last time."

Elizabeth couldn't look at Heimdall as he started to activate the Bifrost. She met Thor's eye and knew he understood. But Loki was gone, scheming she was sure. She let out a pained cry, wanting to see him one last time. The rainbow light started to envelope her, "LOKI I LOVE YOU." She screamed as loudly as she could, before she was gone.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"NO!" Loki heard Thor scream as Heimdall was killed. Loki breathed in, almost shakily. At least his wife and children were safe. And they would be able to alert Midgard of the doom coming to them. His wife and children were safe. That was all that mattered. "You're going to die for that."

Ebony Maw lazily swiped his hand so that the metal clamped over his brothers mouth. He lifted a finger to his mouth, "Shh."

"My humble personage." Ebony presented the Tesseract to him. He knelt, "bows before your grandeur." Loki watched as Thanos took off his armor. "No other being has ever had the might nay, the nobility to wield not one, but two Infinity Stones." Thanos plucked the glowing cube from Ebony Maw's hand.

"The universe lies within your grasp."

He crushed the cube in hand, blowing on it gently like it was hot, before lifting the blue stone between his fingers, glass tinkling to the ground. He placed it beside the purple one, a blast of blue energy going through the ship.

"There are two more stones on Earth. Find them, my children, and bring them to me on Titan."

"Father, we will not fail you." The womanly one said, as all of them bowed.

"If I might interject." Loki said quickly. "If you're going to Earth, you might want a guide. I do have a bit of experience in that area." He said with a smile, hoping this was all going to work. He was the master of lies and manipulation, but he had never done them on a Titan as powerful as this one. Nay, a Titan as powerful as this one that had controlled him.

"If you consider failure experience." Thanos said slowly.

"I consider experience, experience." Loki retorted. "Almighty Thanos, I, Loki, Prince of Asgard. . . Odinson. . ." He looked over at Thor, hoping he knew what he was doing, "the rightful kind of Jotunheim, god of mischief," He let the dagger form in his hand behind his back, "do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity."

He knelt, as though bowing, before thrusting upwards, his knife aimed for the throat. But blue energy stopped him, just inches away. Thanos didn't even look fazed.

"Undying?" Thanos questioned as he grabbed Loki's wrist, the blue fading as he lowered the stone, "You should choose your words more carefully." He twisted Loki's wrist so that he had to drop the weapon, before lifting him up by his throat.

It was a different sort of pain from dying before. Or coming close to death anyways. The air was gone completely from his lungs and he could already feel a sort of pressure against his forehead. And on top of that, he could suddenly feel Elizabeth's screaming pain through their bond. That she knew he was dying. And it was hurting her.

"You. . ." He choked out, kicking his legs a little. He struggled to get free, but he could not. "Will never be. . . a God."

And then Thanos snapped his neck.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"Seriously, you don't have any money?" Stephen asked, dressing in a T-shirt and jeans as he and Sam walked down one side of the grand staircase, hand in hand. He was talking to Wong, a fellow sorcerer, as he walked down on the other side.

"Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual." Wong responded.

"I'll tell the guys at the deli." Stephen chuckled, "Maybe they'll make you a metaphysical ham on rye."

"Oh. Wait, wait, wait. I think I have two hundred."

"Dollars?" Stephen asked while Sam chuckled, used to the banter now between the two wizards.

"Rupees."

"Which is?"

"Uh, buck and a half."

Stephen sighed, "What do you want?"

"I wouldn't say no to a tuna melt."

Suddenly, they heard a huge crash behind them. They all covered their heads with their hands and then turned around. Stephen's cloak came around and Sam saw the Bifrost light not unlike that of which Thor and Elizabeth often had used to travel to and from Earth, but hadn't been seen in almost two years.

They all raced up the staircase, Wong already firing up his orange shields.

Sam looked down to see Elizabeth on her face and Bruce on his back, turning from green to normal. There were also two kids who looked like they could be anywhere between seven and ten, along with three babies.

"Thanos is coming." Bruce gasped.

"Bruce! Elizabeth!" Sam shouted, dropping down into the hole with them. He quickly checked that the babies were all breathing.

"He's coming." Bruce said again.

"Who?" Stephen asked.

"Elizabeth?" Sam asked, rolling her over now that he knew the kids were alright.

She rolled over and he saw that her face was tear stained and blotchy. "Sam." She sobbed.

"Hey, whoa, it's okay." He said, pulling her into a hug. "Elizabeth, whose Thanos? And why is he coming here?"

But she couldn't answer, to distraught. He looked over at the oldest boy. "What happened?"

"Sam, let's get them out of the hole." Stephen commanded. Sam quickly handed the babies up to Stephen and Wong and then helped Elizabeth out. Bruce got out himself and then Sam.

"Thanos attacked our ship." The boy, who said his name was Halfdan said. He was trembling, looking like he wanted to cry. He clutched a little girl in his arms. The elder girl hugged Elizabeth tightly as both of them cried. "He killed everyone, except us, Uncle Thor, dad, and Heimdall. Heimdall got us to safety but. . ." Halfdan rubbed his eyes. "Mom has been crying and. . . she screamed as we were falling. I think our dad. . ."

"It's okay kid." Sam said gently.

"And he's coming here, the man who did this?" Wong asked sharply.

The boy nodded.

"Okay."

"I'm going to kill him." Elizabeth said, staggering to her feet suddenly. "I'm going to kill Thanos."

Sam wrapped his arms around her, "Elizabeth wait. Just wait. You have your kids, we need to get them to safety first."

"They're safe here, aren't they?" Elizabeth hiccupped, but sank down on the steps, burying her face in her hands.

Stephen looked over at Sam, "Is there anyone on Earth?"

"Y/N, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, definitely Bucky Barnes. But the only ones I know you can get into contact with are Y/N and Tony."

"I can portal her straight to the Compound." Stephen nodded. "Um, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth looked at him, wiping her eyes. "Y-Yeah?"

"Is it okay if you take the kids to the Avengers Compound? Y/N Stark is there with her children and Tony should be there as well. Rhodey too."

"Um sure." She whispered, standing up.

"Alright." Stephen said, creating a portal onto the grounds of the Avengers Compound. Elizabeth picked up a child and left through the portal.

"Hey," Sam said suddenly. "I'm going to go with them. If there really is a fight here, Tony has the phone to call Steve and the others that are on the run. If I can get to the phone sooner-"

"Okay." Stephen said, pulling Sam into a kiss. "I love you."

"I'm staying with you guys." Bruce wiped his own eyes and Sam looked at him. "Thor. . . Thor is gone too, I think."

Sam squeezed Bruce's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He nodded, "I'll. . . we'll kill this fucker."

Sam nodded and then hurried into the portal after her.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

Tony had gone on a run with Everleigh that morning. Y/N of course, had to stay on the Compound with their newly born son Arlo.

"How about we go and get some ice-cream, now that we've finished our run, huh?" Tony asked his nine-year old daughter, panting a little. "You know we have our favorite ice-cream spot down around the corner."

"Then it's just around the corner, not down around the corner." Everly laughed.

"Very true lovebug." Tony chuckled.

Suddenly, he heard a very loud, professional voice ask, "Tony Stark."

He started, turning and Everleigh stopped by his side. "I'm Doctor Stephen Strange." He saw a man wearing blue robes with a red cape standing there. A portal- he assumed that's what it was- was behind him. He could see a broken staircase behind him as well, "I need you to come with me." Tony just stared and Everleigh grabbed his hand, "Oh and uh, congratulations on the new baby, by the way."

"I'm sorry," Tony responded quickly. "I thought Stephen Strange was Sam's doctor soulmate, not. . . whatever you are."

"We need your help." The man didn't respond. "Look it's not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake."

"And who's we?" Tony demanded. He then turned shocked when Bruce came to stand next to the wizard person.

"Hey, Tony."

"Bruce." Tony said, voice laced with surprise. Bruce came to stand in front of him, shaking his head. Tony could see his eyes were laced a little red and he asked, "You okay?" And then Bruce hugged him tightly.

Once he had settled down a little, wiping his eye with his thumb, Tony knelt near Everleigh, "You know how to get home to mommy, right?"

"Yes Daddy." Everleigh said solemnly.

"Good." Tony said firmly. "Then you run as fast as you can to her, understand?"

Everleigh nodded.

"I can portal her to the compound." The man said, opening a second portal which showed the Compound. Tony could already see Y/N far in the distance, talking to another woman.

"That's Elizabeth." Bruce explained, "Her and her kids. Long story short but Loki's dead. All the Asgardians are dead."

"Go." Tony said to Everleigh, who scampered through the portal and ran towards her mother. Then he followed the wizard and Bruce back inside.

He sat on a couch in what was known as the New York Sanctorum, watching another sorcerer show off some astral projections and tell a story about the infinity stones.

"At the dawn of the universe, there was nothing. Then, Boom. The Big Bang sent six elemental crystals, hurtling across the virgin universe."

There were so many corrections Tony wanted to make in the speech, but he kept quiet.

"These infinity stones each control an essential aspect of existence."

Each one was highlighted as they named it.

Blue.

"Space." Strange said.

Red.

"Reality."

Purple.

"Power."

Orange.

"Soul."

Yellow.

"Mind."

The one inside of Vision, Tony made note.

"And time." Strange said, looking down at the necklace thing he was wearing, opening it up to reveal the green stone that was inside of it.

"Tell me his name again." Tony demanded. He hated seeing Bruce so broken like this.

"Thanos." Bruce said. "He's a plague, Tony. He invades planets. He takes what he wants. He wipes out half the population. He sent Loki, brainwashed him. The attack on New York, that was him."

"This is it." Tony whispered. "What's our timeline?"

"No telling. He has the Power and the Space Stone." Bruce said. "That already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he get his hands on all six stones, Tony. . ."

"He could destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of." Stephen finished.

Tony stretched against the banister, "Did you seriously just say 'hitherto undreamt of'?" He asked.

"Are you seriously leaning on the Cauldron of the Cosmos?" Stephen retorted.

"Is that what that is?" Tony asked, letting go quickly as he felt something like fabric hit him. He gave Stephen a look and then said, "I'm going to allow that."

"If Thanos needs all six, why don't we just stick this one down the garbage disposal?"

"No can do."

"We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone with our lives." Wong replied.

"And I swore off dairy but then Ben & Jerry's named a flavor after me." Tony retorted. "So-"

"Stark Raving Hazelnuts." Stephen said in what almost sounded like an ashamed tone. . . but it couldn't possibly have been.

"Not bad." He responded.

"A bit chalky." Stephen said slowly.

"A Hunk of Hulk of Burning Fudge is our favorite." Wong informed Bruce, who looked utterly confused.

"That's a thing?" Bruce yelped.

"Whatever. Point is, things change." Tony responded.

"Our Oath to protect the Time Stone cannot change." Stephen said. "And this stone may be the best chance we have against Thanos."

Tony responded with, "Yeah, so conversely, it may also be his best chance against us."

"Well, if we don't do our jobs."

"What is your job exactly? Besides making balloon animals?"

"Protecting your reality douchebag."

"Okay, guys. Could we table this discussion right now?" Bruce asked almost angrily. "Thor is dead. Loki is dead. Mine and Elizabeth's soulmates are gone. Forever. The fact is we have this stone. We know where it is. Vision is out there somewhere with the Mind stone, and we have to find him now."

"Yeah, that's the thing." Tony said uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"Two weeks ago, Vision turned off his transponder." Tony replied. "He's offline."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Tony, you lost another super-bot?" Bruce sounded so disappointed in him.

"I didn't lose him. He's more than that. He's evolving." Tony replied.

"Who could find Vision then?" Stephen asked.

"Shit." Tony hissed. "Probably Steve Rogers."

"Oh, great." Stephen muttered.

"Maybe. But. . ."

"Call him." Bruce demanded.

"It's not that easy." Tony said, looking at Bruce over his shoulder. "God, we haven't caught up in a spell, have we?"

"No."

"The Avengers broke up. We're toast."

"Broke up? Like What? Like the Beatles?"

"Cap and I fell out hard." Tony muttered. "Sort've."

"Not quite true." Stephen interjected. "The Government made them choose and they all fought each other in an Avengers Civil War. Half of them like Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Sam Wilson are on the run. The other half like Y/N Stark, Scott Lang, and Clint Barton are on House arrest."

"Either way, we're not on speaking terms." Tony grumbled.

"Tony." Bruce begged, near tears, "Listen to me. Thor's gone. Thanos is coming. It doesn't matter who you're talking to or not."

Tony sighed. He had always carried the phone on him, no matter where he went, just in case. Never thought he was actually going to need it. He flipped it open. "Flip phone." He muttered in disgust. He paused though, as he heard something.

He looked around, things slightly rattling. Stephens black hair was moving slightly in a wind. "Say Doc, you wouldn't happen to be moving your hair, would ya?"

"Not at the moment, no."

What kind of answer was that? When did he move his fucking hair then?

Car alarms started to beep outside, they could see people running past the doors of the Sanctorum, and could hear screams outside.

Tony was the first one out the door, opening it up, and then headed in the direction that people were running from. A woman and a man bumped into each other, both of them falling. He quickly helped the woman to her feet and she kept running without a word. A car crashed into a pole.

"Help him." He ordered.

"Wong!" Stephen shouted.

"Got it."

He put his glasses on. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. what am I looking at?"

"Not sure. I'm working on it."

"Hey! You might wanna put that Time Stone in your back pocket, Doc." Tony said, before taking off into a run.

Tony saw what basically looked like a flying donut in the sky. Chocolate, maybe some orange sort of goop inside of it.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. evac anyone south of 43rd Street." Tony ordered. "Notify first responders."

Strange did some sort of spell, which stopped the wind. Tony looked over his shoulder at the wizard and he winked at him. Tony raised his eyebrows in acceptance and then looked to see where a blue light had beamed two creatures down from the sky. One was extremely tall and buff, with heavy armor. The other was thin and shorter, but looked a lot like a squid.

"Hear me and rejoice. You are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos. Be thankful that your meaningless lives are now contributing-"

"I'm sorry. Earth is closed today." Tony shouted, interrupting the monologue. "You better pack it up and get outta here."

"Stonekeeper. Does this chattering animal speak for you?"

"Certainly not. I speak for myself." Stephen said, stepping forwards, doing some really cool, dramatic, somewhat stupid hand motions to create shields, "You're trespassing in this city and on this planet." Wong did the same shields on the other side of him.

"He means get lost Squidward!" Tony shouted.

"He exhausts me. Bring me the stone." Squidward said and the stomping brute creature started towards them.

"Banner, you want a piece?" Tony asked.

"Mmm, no, not really." Bruce responded. "But when do I ever get what I want?"

"That's right." Tony responded back. "I know it's been a while. It's gonna be good to have you, buddy."

"Okay. Shh. Let me just. . . I need to concentrate here for a second." Tony looked at him skeptically. He was green at the neck and knuckles, but nothing more. "Come on, come on man."

"Where's your guy?"

"I don't know. We've sorta been having a thing."

"It's no time for a thing."

"I know!"

"That's the thing right there. Let's go."

Stephen looked at him in expectation. "Dude you're embarrassing me in front of the wizards." Tony said.

"Either I can't or he won't." Bruce responded.

"It's okay. Hey, stand down. Keep an eye on him. Thank you." Tony said, realizing the emotional stress of losing his entire family on the soulmate side probably was a lot. He thought it would fuel the Hulks rage, but perhaps he was wrong.

He stepped forwards, pulling the strings of his jacket, then tapping the new arc reactor on his chest. He took his glasses off as the suit seemed to melt onto his skin, the helmet coming over his face. He lifted his shield in time to counter the attack with the brutes club, before bashing him with his fist. Light jets came from his back, shooting a beam of energy that sent the brute flying backwards, which Squidward flicked away easily. The beams went back into Tony's suit.

"Where'd that come from?" Bruce asked in excitement.

"It's nanotech, you like it?" Tony asked, "A little something I-"

Suddenly he was sent skyrocketing as the ground underneath him shot up. He swooped around through the wizards, blasting the car that was sent their way.

"Gotta get that stone out of here, now." Tony said.

"It stays with me." The angry wizard said.

"Exactly. Bye." Tony said, then flew towards the aliens. He dodged the concrete walls, but was hit by something metallic and powerful enough to send him all the way back to where he'd been running earlier with Everleigh.

"Tony, you okay?" Bruce's voice called out, footsteps pounding on the ground as he ran over. "How we doing? Good? Bad?"

"Really, really good." Tony said sarcastically from where he was laying seven inches down in the dirt, back against a tree. "Really good. Do you plan on helping out?"

"I'm trying. He won't come out." Bruce responded.

"Hammer." Tony pushed Bruce out of the way, then tried to beam the brute with his laser, but his shield blocked it, cutting down trees instead with backlash.

Tony was suddenly stopped by being crushed by a hammer, by a very slender figure in a red suit. "Hey man!" The kid greeted the alien cheerfully. "What's up Mr. Stark?"

"Kid, where'd you come from?"

"A field trip to MOMA." He responded as he was picked up and tossed across the park. It gave Tony a chance to fire a laser beam up his side.

"What's this guys problem Mr. Stark?"

"Uh, he's from space. He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard." Tony said and the two of them continued to fight the brute. Tony watched Stephen fly by, seemingly unconscious or something. "Kid that's the wizard. Get on it."

"On it." Peter said, taking off after Stephen.

After a few minutes, he heard Peters' voice, "Um, Mr. Stark, I'm being beamed up."

"Hang on, kid." Tony said, extremely stressed out. He tried fighting the metal contraption around his body. The brute ran at him with a sword, leaping, but before he could come down on him, a portal opened up and the brute fell into a snowy tundra. Wong cut the portal off as he lunged upwards, the hand being cut off.

"Wong you're invited to my baby shower." Tony said, before blasting off the ground and taking off after the kid and wizard. "Give me a little juice F.R.I.D.A.Y." His feet melded together into one big booster to give him some extra speed. "Unlock 17-A."

"Pete you gotta let go, I'm gonna catch you." Tony instructed.

"But you said save the Wizard." Peter argued. "I can't breathe."

"We're to high up. You're running out of air."

"Yeah." the kid gasped, "That makes sense." And then suddenly, "Mr. Stark it smells like a new car in here!"

"Happy trails, kid." Tony hovered over him. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. send him home."

"Yep."

"Oh come on!"

[4seasonsofart]

Hunter or the Hunted? | Hybrid Thorfinn (Part 1)

A young Snow Leopard hybrid meets a Siren hybrid in the most unlikely of cases. Will a friendship blossom, or will the tides of fate pull them under?

Season 1: 6 year old Thorfinn meeting you. S1 Spoilers!

Hybrid Thorfinn x Reader

Hybrid Thorfinn (Part 2) Season 1: Thorfinn sees you after eleven years.

1002: Iceland

The gentle breeze of Mother Nature has gone through the village occupied by so few. Small flakes of crystalline coldness settle on the ground as those few trek through it. A sultry sound mixes in with the ocean waves as if an angel fell to earth and was trapped beneath the sandy shore. The sounds of hungry animals can be heard far off as the lull of the inviting waves draws Thorfinn closer.

The young boy was banned from playing with the others after he broke one of the other kids arms. He couldn't understand why; he was just having a little too much fun.

● Thorfinn met you by chance that day, as he saw you tangled up in one of Leif's fishing nets and crying out for help. Your voice was like the sweetest music he had ever heard in his ears. He almost didn't realize you were crying until he inspected you closer.

● He is always told by his father to help both humans and hybrids alike. You seemed to be a hybrid, much different than him. You were dangerous; that's what Leif had told him. In one of his many long-winded tales, he was informed that Siren hybrids were some of the most dangerous and atrocious hybrids there are.

● They lure humans and hybrids underwater and drown them. Sometimes they eat them, and sometimes they mate with their prey. They may hate humans more than hybrids, but they are not kind to either. One almost forced Leif to marry her, or so he says.

● He couldn't believe his eyes to be in the presence of such a creature, and yet his childlike curiosity did not allow him to feel scared of you.

His tiny hands reach the edges of the net as his eyes scan your body to realize the indents of chains on it. Swollen purple bruises are adorning your starved body as your jagged ribs are sticking out of your skin at a ghastly angle. Even your tail did not come out unscathed from whatever horrors you witnessed last. Long gashes run along the sides of your tail as many glittering scales have been ripped from their very place.

Your music sounded so broken and lonely, as Thorfinn realizes something. You had the same chain marks as the human slave they found earlier in the snow.

His curiosity only grows rapidly as his rounded leopard ears stick up in the air at the sound of a ship approaching. He quickly gnaws you out of the net that was binding you and picks you up as if you were nothing more than a rag doll.  

● Thorfinn takes you back to the hut and tells his mother and older sister about what he found. They both stare at him in pure horror. Both are mixed with a distraughtness over your condition and a fear over your strange arrival at such an inopportune time, the same as the slave.

● While you are being taken care of, Thorfinn gets scolded for poking and prodding at you like a strange animal. You were a strange animal, but so was he.

● You are sleeping peacefully next to the slave as Thors speaks of the promise of Vinland to the both of you. The slave slips into the enigmatic afterlife as you curl up and refuse to make contact with any of them.

This confuses Thorfinn greatly. The young boy yearned for adventure and all that it could provide him with. The young Siren had already seen too much adventure in their short life.

● He cannot ponder that for long as Halfdan knocks down the door and ends up arguing with Thors.

"I found them. Pardon my bad manners, Thors. I'm the rightful owner of that slave and hybrid. Give them back to me."

● Halfdan is one of the cruelest creatures on the planet. That creature has a hybrid owner. One that thinks that any hybrid is below them as they are humans and therefore superior. Someone who locks hybrids up in horrific conditions or treats them like the finest trophies It was obvious that you got the short end of the stick with him.

● Thorfinn tries to defend you as Thors takes over the conversation. Soon enough, Halfdan is leaving with over half of their livestock and a promise of more to come. After all, siren hybrids are rare, valuable, and incredibly dangerous. Anyone with a handful of brain cells would know your worth. 

● Thorfinn pouts at the loss and continues to try to engage with you, but to no avail. He is told that you need rest and food before you are able to even speak again.

● Over the next few weeks, Thorfinn will continuously visit you in the extra room that Ylva set up for you in their now-half-empty barn. He tries to get you to speak and regails all of the stories he has heard from Leif. He is set on making you talk to him, and he will have to talk one day.

● Of course, he would never tell you how he was banned from visiting you in the first place. Everyone in the village was.

● You were seen by many as bad luck, and they didn't want you around. Thorfinn didn't mind you, though. He liked your company, despite how you didn't talk. He could already imagine all of the adventures he could set out on with a siren at his side. You could guide him through the seas and show him Vinland!

● One day is unlike the rest, as he comes in to see you finally sitting up. He runs up to you with an excited smile and invades your personal space. He just wants to know more about you. His tail is wagging excitedly, and his leopard ears are perked up to their highest extent.

He watches your sluggish figure push off the animal furs that cover your slowly recovering body. Your battered body was still covered in an assortment of wounds, although they were fading. Even your stomach seemed to be a little more rounded and your ribs less prominent. Thorfinn could barely contain himself as he saw that you had human legs now instead of a tail.

"Woah, you look so much more human now! No gills, talons, tails, or scary eyes." He states it in an innocent tone, although it could inadvertently come off as offensive.

He sits down next to you on the small cot and is practically buzzing with joy. You look at him with those tortured eyes, and he instantly feels his body shut down. As if time stopped for everyone but the two of you. Your mouth begrudgingly opens to form a single word.

"Sorry."

● He shakes you suddenly and begins squealing at the fact that you just spoke to him. He spends the next few hours talking your ear off once again as you warm up to him more. You were around his age and still so quiet. He is unable to understand why you wouldn't talk. You must know so much, and perhaps you even saw Vinland! He tries to coax you to talk more as he talks about his day and other random things.

"Then where does everyone who wants to run away from here... go?"

"One day we'll both go to Vinland. I am sure that you can lead me there."

"Thors took away my weapon. He told me that I didn't have any enemies. Halfdan seemed pretty evil to me. Wouldn't he be your enemy?"

"I almost got attacked by the sheep hybrid today just because I took his animal fur blanket! I was going to give it back. Just borrowing."

"I want to have some of that bread we had a few weeks ago. It was really, really good. There isn't anymore of it. Not a lot of crops grow here. The snow and stuff make it hard on the plants."

● Another week passes as you regain some of your mobility, and Thorfinn leads you out towards an empty warship. He leads you into the water and tells you to follow the ship as it moves. So you do.

● You were already getting anxious enough to be in one place for so long. Hunters never seem far behind in these lands, and you had a really high bounty on your head.

● You had no one then. You have Thorfinn now. So you follow him underneath the waves with immense difficulty. Your injuries aren't completely healed, and you can barely use your water magic. You are six; what does the world expect of you?

● You end up swimming under the water near a rock formation. You feel the hairs on your slimy skin stand up as you shriek. The underwater world goes dark as, above the water, a battle is raging.

● Thorfinn's life passed in the blink of an eye as he watched his father die at the hands of this vile man.

● In that moment, something breaks inside of him. That innocent expression on his face is now nothing but crestfallen hopelessness. He searches for a sign that you are alive under the water.

A single sign may save him from the hatred he is drowning in.

You're gone.

You disappeared.

You abandoned him.

Did you?

That innocence within him drowns under the tsunami of fury now ever present within. He will murder that man, as it is only his right.

Not just for his father, but for whatever happened to you.

[not-that-syndrigast]

One thing the second half of Vikings ruined was the side characters.

In the first half, you had like two established groups; the vikings and the saxons.

The vikings were obviously Ragnar, Lagertha, the main characters you know, but they also build affection and relationships to side characters like Torstein or Arne, and I've seen really good fanfictions and ships also including these characters, because it felt so much more real.

On the other hand the second half was very focused on the main group, and it was really mainly the family. Only Lagertha, Ivar and Bjorn even really interacted with many of the side characters and to be honest, for many of the side characters I wasn't really sad or anything when they died; I barely remembered their names. Sure, part of it was the story, different than in the first half they didn't have one crew they all stayed with, but really?? Ivar's right hand men could've had character, more saxons could've had character. But the only characters who were allowed to have any character were either of the family or they fucked with the family (Björn/Halfdan truther tbr).

Especially when writing fanfictions I feel like this becomes obvious; if you write about Ragnar, he hangs out with Torstein or Floki and Lagertha has her own friends. You write about the sons? Well, there's a lot of interesting things to explore, but if I have to see one more OC insert version of Oleg, I will shoot myself

[noctuafought]

i already know but idc, dainsleif ship bias now (and no all five being kaeya doesnt count)

[ 🔥 ]  ──  * @diiluvies  ⸤ send ‘ship bias’ and i will share up to 5 ships ⸣

dainkae / kaeya

halfdain / halfdan

dainther | dainlumi / abyss twin & traveler (both versions)

dainluc / diluc

pierrodain / pierro

[ms-rampage]

Anymore Lore on Liv x Ubba or King Fairhair?

So I’m gonna answer both of these.

More info below the cut!

Liv & Harald

Ship name: Livald. Haraliv.

Not my photo by the way

For King Harald Fairhair, this “relationship” was arranged by both their fathers years earlier.

This was arranged because Edmund owed Harald’s father (Halfdan the Black according to the AC wiki) a favor, and as a way to strengthen both their families since Edmund is an apparent relative to King Burgred (hence why he was considered a traitor to the crown for fleeing Mercia/England, and marrying a Norse woman).

When Liv escaped Kjotve the Cruel, she was visited by Harald, and brought up their arranged marriage.

“What are you talking about, Your Grace?.” she asks, confused as to why King Harald would give her the time and day to visit her. Especially after she escaped the hand of Kjotve after all the abuse and torture he and Gorm did to her.

“I apologize for my unannounced visit, milady.” he says, “I don’t know if this was explained to you, but I’m sure your father will explain it.”

Liv plays with the sleeve cuff of her dress, “My father died, a long time ago.”

“My apologies for your loss. Your mother?.” he asks in the most sincere voice.

“She died 72 moons ago. 6 years ago.” she answers nervously, she never knew how to use the whole “many moons” type of thing.

“I’m sorry about your parents, but many years ago, my father and yours made an arrangement for both our families.” he explains to her.

“What arrangement?.” she asks, awkwardly shifting away from him, but not making it noticeable.

“We are arranged to be married, to strengthen both our families because your father, Edmund, was related to the Mercia dynasty.”

Raising her eyebrows, she never knew this information about her father, but then he died when she was 6 years old, so she didn’t know him very well, her mother never mentioned it to her. Unknown if she knew of this arrangement.

“My father? I- I didn’t know any of this. I've never been told about this.” she tells him, feeling like she was on the verge of crying. She started to feel overwhelmed, and Harald saw this. “Marry me, and you won’t have to be scared. You’ll always be protected, and you will be my queen.” he tells her, taking her hands in his. He has this gentle look in his eyes, but it seemed kinda off.

In a way, Liv did believe him, but she wanted to see it to believe it. She reluctantly agreed to take his hand and marry him. But this was just a plot for her to plan her next escape, if given the chance before she was married to him.

***********

Liv & Ubba

Ship name: Libba. Lubba. Livba

They met at a feast held by the Raven clan, Liv isn’t one to be social. She's an introvert. She's one to stand in the corner of the room and watch everyone else have fun. That's her way of having fun.

The drunkards making fools of themselves dancing, eating and singing very loudly. Celebrating very loudly. He approached her, as she was trying not to be seen, but who can miss her with 3 foxes by her side, and her bright copper hair. Not to mention, her lack of tattoos, her long beautiful dresses, and not looking like a viking, but having the mentality of one.

As he approaches her, she tries to not acknowledge him, but not wanting to be rude she gives him a smile. Drinking her mead, and looking down at her furry companions.

“Having fun?.” he asks her, leaning against the wall. Giving her a slight smile, how this man is Ivarr’s brother is beyond Liv’s knowledge. He’s handsome, tall. Taller than her by many, he towers over her and with his big build.

“Yeah, I am.” she responds, giving a smile back.

“Not gonna dance?.” he asks her, a hint of flirtatious in his tone, probably because he's been drinking, and probably wants to get with Liv.

“I’m not much of a dancer.” she tells him, feeling a little embarrassed. Looking away from him.

He lets out a laugh that can’t be heard over the sound of everyone else singing, laughing, and being loud in general. “Neither are these drunken fools.” he tells her as she finishes off her mead and sets down the cup. Finishing her 3rd cup. Feeling a little tipsy and very social.

“I don’t think they will remember anything tonight.” she tells him, feeling the mead hit her as she starts to move a little closer to Ubba. “They’re only good singers when they’re drowning in their mead.”

He takes her hand, “Dance with me.” Unable to protest against him, she follows him, not like she has any choice, she joins him and the others in the group dance of drunks. She had a great time, standing in the corner got a little boring anyway. Dancing and laughing with the members of the Raven clan.

Ubba lifted her up a few times in mid-dance, neither of them could remember, but according to Tove and Petra, Liv and Ubba did share a kiss that was interrupted by Ivarr, and his drunken state.

[cosmicjoke]

I love how Thorfinn can be simultaneously adorable and bad-ass, haha.  His enthusiasm for going to Vinland is incredibly cute, especially when he figures out through talking to Halfdan a way to negotiate with the natives without the use of violence.

Of course, best laid plans and all of that.  Volume 12 was pretty lighthearted again for this manga, and I still take some issue with the character shifts we see in some of the players.  Halfdan is a pretty glaring example, as was Canute.  I mean, this dude clearly had no qualms about abusing his slaves when we first met him at the beginning of this story, but now he seems pretty harmless.  I get that the underlying message here is that nobody is anyone’s enemy, and that if we just try, we can find common ground.  But when you can only accomplish that by having someone act out of character, it’s a bit lazy and clumsy, I think in terms of writing.  The drastic shifts in tone in this manga can be pretty jarring, and all of volume 12 was so fantastical and idyllic in its presentation, that it felt particularly so, given the drama of the last few arcs.  The parallel scenario with Cordilia and one of this story’s earliest scenes with the runaway slave from Halfdan’s farm, felt especially silly I thought.  That slave had clearly been badly abused and starved, covered in whip marks, etc... but Cordilia is just fine, because we aren’t meant to see Halfdan as a villain anymore.  Okay.  That just seems like lazy, bad writing to me.  This feels like two different manga’s sometimes, depending on what’s happening in the story.  In it’s dramatic moments, it’s incredibly powerful and moving, but in the service of the message behind it all, it sometimes veers way too far into the realm of idealism and unreality, and that clashes badly with the brutal realism of especially the early chapters. 

But I expect it will pick back up again soon in terms of tension, with everyone off to Vinland, and drama waiting in the wings with Ivar and him sneaking weapons on board the ships.  Despite some of the issues I have with the later story here, and it’s inconsistent tone, I’m still totally invested in Thorfinn and seeing how he handles each, new obstacle put in his way.

I would like to have seen some of his journey after the “War in the Baltic” arc.  He has new scars on his face, but we don’t get to see how he got them.  That’s one area where I think the anime has improved on the manga, in fleshing out how characters get from one point to the next.  In the manga, there tends to be time skips without us getting to see the development of the character or how they ended up where they are.  The prime example of this of course is how in the anime, they showed us how Thorfinn ended up becoming the warrior he was, his early struggles to survive in Askladd’s band without any help from anyone.  That was something I was pretty shocked to see was an anime only addition, because it seemed like such an important, vital part of understanding Thorfinn’s character.  And we see the same with Einar too.  So I think Yukimura has a tendency to skip over development sometimes in character, and we just see the end result, without seeing how they got there, which could also be what leads to those character shifts I was talking about.

Anyway though, I’m still loving this manga, and am excited to go on to volume 13.  Ugh, it’s going to suck when I reach the end.  Hopefully there’s more volumes after this last one.

[author-morgan]

i see your requests are open!! can you do something sweet with Harald? (and Halfdan if you’re comfortable with polyamory!)

Of courseeeee. Here is some Harald fluff (with a pinch of bittersweetness and angst). I was going to have this be polyamorous (bc those two come as a pair more often than naught in my fics lbr lol), but once I got started it just turned into something more Harald-centric. Hope you don't mind! (I went a little overboard for him again) Harald Finehair x fem!Reader

HALFDAN THE BLACK is the first to enter Tamdrup’s great hall upon returning from a successful raiding season. The doors swing open wide, and those gathered for the tribunal part, making way for the victorious. Rising from the seat of power, you go to him with open arms, smiling. “I see you brought my husband back,” you muse, watching Harald enter the hall at last, surrounded by a score of rowdy warriors and overjoyed denizens—rightfully so, they have returned with riches and have lost fewer than a dozen warriors during the raids.

“I fear what you would do if I didn’t,” Halfdan laughs, tossing down a heavy coin purse on the table before taking you into his arms.

“It is always good to see you again,” you smile, kissing your marriage-brother’s cheek. He is inclined to agree. After long days at sea and many weeks away, it is good to be greeted by a fair and familiar face such as yours. Halfdan clasps your shoulder as he steps around you, pouring himself a cup of mead—leaving you to his brother. “Harald,” you greet, and the hall falls silent as he approaches you.

His breath catches as he beholds you, standing before him regal as ever with a gifted silver circlet resting upon your brow. His wife. His queen. His heart. It is as though the rest of the world falls away when he stops before you, rough hands cradling your face with the gentlest of touches. “By all the gods” —he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks— “you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

Harald’s kiss is slow and soft—save for the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheek and jaw—and speaks of the months of longing to return to your loving arms. You kiss him like you’ve done a thousand times before, falling into the rhythm as though you never parted. Your fingers comb through his beard as you part, foreheads resting together, but then your smile widens as you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. “I’ve missed you,” you breathe. But now he’ll be yours again until the next raiding season comes.

THE WHEEL OF time does not slow, and the harvest season fades into winter and then to the first buds of spring. Nigh all the Vestfold gathered in Tamdrup tonight for the feast to celebrate sowing the first seeds of the new crop and seasoning the turned soil with sacred blood. But that is not the only reason the jarls and fighting men have come all this way. In the coming weeks, Harald, Halfdan, and anyone else willing to sail will make their way to Frankia to raid Paris with Ragnar Lothbrok. Festivities last long into the night, but Harald comes to you soon after you take leave.

He draws lines over the length of your spine as you lay with him, head pillowed on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heat, bare legs entwined, but then you twist in his arms and lean up to kiss him—featherlight and sweet as the mead still on his breath—fingertips following the blue-black scrollwork of his tattoos. Then he tilts his head back, letting you trace the curving lines on his neck and down to the ones on his chest—only your touch could ever make him tremble.

“Paris?” You repeat, following one of the silver scars on his ribs with your fingertips. He’s spoken of the city to the south and of Ragnar Lothbrok before, but with the night’s feast, it became official. Come the spring, he would prepare his ships and set sail to join the farmer-turned-king on his second venture to Frankia.

“Yes,” Harald says, his voice a low rasp. He sees it in your eyes, a flicker of hope that maybe this time you will sail with him and his brother—that you will be able to visit the distant lands so many speak of—but now is not the time for you to venture into the unknown. Your life is not something he can risk so easily and carelessly. Harald curls his hand around yours, then kisses the center of your palm and holds your hand close to his chest. “I need you here, my heart,” he tells you, but you already know that.

“I’ll plan a feast and a sacrifice before you and Halfdan depart,” you tell him—it is what any good queen and wife would do to see her husband and people return safe and with victory. And then he takes your lips and your breath, holding you close. You sigh into his mouth, letting his tongue brush yours, fingers slipping back into his unbound hair. His kiss is reverent, and you cannot help but miss the cracked softness of his lips against yours when he parts, but it is only so he can hold you in his arms.

TEN DAYS AFTER Harald Finehair first sets sail to Kattegat, his brother and the remainder of the fleet are ready to follow. The last of the barrels and crates are being rolled and loaded into the longships when you arrive on the docks to bid everyone farewell and good fortune on their journeys. Six hundred men and shieldmaidens from the Vestfold have gathered over the last two moons, all to leave on this day to join Ragnar Lothbrok in his endeavors—but Tamdrup will feel empty without their presence. Though, there is already a newfound hollowness in the wake of Harald’s departure.

You find Halfdan amongst the chaos, checking the yellow-red shields secured on the side of one of the ships. “Halfdan,” you call, and he turns on heel to face you with a half-bow—nigh teasing in nature, but you are, after all, his queen. Before he can stand upright, you reach out and rest your hands on his cheeks, and he bends a little farther, accepting the kiss you bestow upon his brow. “Be safe,” you tell him, hands moving to clasp his. “Look after your brother.”

Halfdan squeezes your hands. “You know I will,” he assures you. That is something you’ll never have to worry about—the bonds of blood and brotherhood run deep. You nod, and he steps back down into the longship. At your hest, they will set sail for glory and, if the gods deem it so, Valhalla.

One of your attendants hastens to the dock, stepping forward to present the gift commissioned from the blacksmith and jeweler—it's meant to be a surprise in celebration of another year of marriage, but alas, such care and detail took longer than expected. It’s a necklace of bronze and silver with a pendant shaped into the likeness of Mjölnir clasped in the mouths of two silver dragonheads on a chain of alternating links. “It was not finished before Harald left,” you explain, placing the necklace in Halfdan’s palm. “Give it to him, please.” Halfdan nods. “And all my love.”

RESOUNDING HORNS ANNOUNCE the return of Harald Finehair’s fleet in the dark hours of the evening. You rise from bed and make haste to the docks—handmaids following close behind with slippers and a cloak, but decorum is the least of your concerns. So few have returned, you think, counting the dwindling number of ships gathered compared to how many set off. The first wave departs one of the docked ships, and there is no air of triumph in those who press past you—eager to return to home and hearth and for solid ground beneath their feet. “Harald!” You call as he steps from the longship and onto the dock.

But he does not embrace you as he normally would after such a long voyage, and the spark in his stormy blue eyes is faded. It is only when you see who the men are carrying off the ship on a crude stretcher do you understand the cause of your husband’s sullen mood. “Halfdan,” you breathe, looking between him and Harald. You step to your marriage-brother and lift the pelt of fur covering his torso, grimacing—the wound at his shoulder is a festered, blackish mess, and the sweat on his brow in the first chill of winter speaks of the fever that’s set in during the return voyage.

You turn to one of your handmaids. “Call on Mjöll,” you instruct, “quickly.” The years have seen you clean and bind both Harald and Halfdan’s wounds, but this is far beyond your skill, and an herbalist will be needed to call Halfdan back from the cusp of the next life. The girl nods and sets off to the healer’s hut. Looking back at the stretcher-bearers, you point up the way to the great hall. “Take him to the great hall.” In such a state, Halfdan will need several pairs of watchful eyes.

Dark shadows cast from torchlight and iron braziers shroud Harald’s expression—he does not understand how it is you can stand with so much equanimity when faced with such loss. Harald steps to you, and his shoulders fall, then wordless, he slumps into your arms, resting his forehead on your shoulder—another weight you must bear—hands twisting into the fabric of your pale linen shift. You smooth your hand over his back, following the length of his braid-bound hair. “I thank the gods you have returned to me, my love,” you breathe, unwilling to let him part just yet.

Mjöll works to prepare a cataplasm of moss and herbs into the hours of the night, and you kneel at the prepared pallet of fur and pillows, placing a cool, damp rag upon Halfdan’s brow. There is little else you can do for your marriage brother besides trust the herbalist’s remedies, pray to the gods, and hope they are merciful. Mjöll nods for you to leave and tend to your husband. She and her apprentice will care for Halfdan.

He is pacing the length of the foot of the bed when you enter your shared chambers—hands flexing into fists at his side. You step into Harald’s path, hands going to the ties and buckles of his leathern armor. “If the High One truly sought Halfdan’s company,” you tell him, setting aside his vambraces before turning back, “he would already be feasting in the Halls of the Slain.”

To Harald, it is poor consolation but consolation all the same. And deep down, he knows you are right. Shrugging off his worn and stained tunic, he goes to the washbasin and splashes water on his face and chest, scrubbing away a mix of sweat and salt spray, and blood too. Harald returns to sit at your side on the bed—he stares ahead at the flickering flames of tallow candles. “What happened?” You finally dare ask.

“The magic of Ragnar Lothbrok failed,” he tells you. The lingering taste of defeat is bitter on his tongue—the gods had forsaken them on that river, had forsaken Ragnar. As it happened to be, he was just like any other man. “We were humiliated and pushed out of Frankia with nothing to show for it.” He does not remember the last time he returned to Tamdrup, to you, with nothing to show for his travels. It will take time for the Vestfold to recover from such a defeat.

You touch his cheek, fingers combing through his unkempt beard, drawing his gaze to you. “You live, as does your brother.” The rancor in his expression falters, his jaw unclenching, and he leans into you—his nose just barely bumping against yours. Yes, he and Halfdan escaped with their lives. That is more than can be said for many who embarked on the journey to Paris. Ragnar Lothbrok may have lost the favor of the gods, but they still smiled upon Harald and his brother. “That is enough for me,” you say, softly. He kisses you then, and you meld against him with a sigh and a slight smile that he can feel on your lips.

HE SITS ON his throne—slouched to the side and staring into the abyss, twisting his shark-tooth crown in his hands. Your king has returned, yet still, it is only you shouldering the weight of the kingdom. You stop at the dais and extend your hand toward him. “Walk with me.” It is not a request. Harald rises and follows.

The path through the forest is well-worn, both into the Earth and memory. It carves a winding route through the forest and up bare rock to a promontory overlooking Tamdrup and the mouth of the fjord—a place you frequent to look for sails on the horizon when the men are away, a place where Harald promised he would marry you one day what now feels like a lifetime ago.

But the morning fog has yet to lift from the land, just as the fog of bitterness in the aftermath of what happened in Paris has yet to lift from your husband and king. There has been no feast to honor the memory of those lost since his return several days ago and no promise or mention of what comes next for the Vestfold. It is as though he is lost in despair, mourning his brother already despite the day-by-day recovery—just yesterday, Halfdan’s fever broke.

You sit atop one of the boulders there on the promontory. There’s space enough for him to join you, but, for a moment, he lingers and stares. In the morning the light and mist, you seem like one of the winged women—ethereal. A sight that makes his heart twist and ache given the dark thoughts and mood which have taken hold of him since returning to Tamdrup.

Harald sits next to you and hangs his head, letting his hand rest on your thigh—a gentle weight and warmth. “I fear I have not been a good husband,” he confesses. It is never an easy thing for a prideful man to admit weakness and accept his faults, less so for a king. But the failed siege, his brother’s injury, and the long months spent away from you, from home, have been a heavy weight on his heart.

It does not feel right, leaving you time and time again, each longer than the last, to rule over his lands and care for his people—duties which are his. But you rule so fairly, and his people love you for it. “I have left you too often,” he breathes, a new softness and the tremble of guilt in his voice. “And I have left you to carry a burden meant to be shouldered by two backs” —his hand runs across your shoulders, down your spine— “not one.”

You never expected being wife to a king—being a queen—would be easy. Least of all, the wife of an ambitious man with dreams of uniting Norway under a single crown. Harald Finehair is vikingr. To deny him that would be to deny his true self, and even on the loneliest and coldest of nights, you could and would never ask him to be anything other than who he is—the man you love.

“I knew what was expected of me” —you card your fingers through his beard, the first tinges of silver beginning to appear, and he can find nothing but underserved doting affection in your soft gaze— “of you, when we married.” Harald covers your hand with his own, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your palm as his hand curls around yours, a sigh on his lips. “And I happily said yes, remember?” 

He remembers the day you married well—the crown of spring wildflowers you wore, the blood-tinged kiss after exchanging rings, the bridal race with Halfdan and your cousins tripping over one another to get to the mead hall first. It is still the happiest day of his life—tied with every other day the gods let him wake up beside you.  

Shifting, you lean your forehead against his and gently slip your hand free from his. “You will always have my love and support, wherever you may be.” Harald closes his eyes and curls his hand around the back of your neck, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear. And you press your hand against the center of his chest—feeling the outline of the Mjölnir necklace under your palm. “And I will be here or at your side,” you tell him, a soft whisper dancing over his lips, “wherever you need me to be.” And now he’s certain—you are too good to him.

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