#gentledottir

[gulldrengur]

@gentledottir

         “Oh, beautiful princess care to hear one of my stories?      surely you will like them, it involves love and loss in equal measures.”

[skjebnebanemoved-blog]

@gentledottir sent a  ☽ !!  𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕆𝕋: The Magician:: (Power, skill, concentration, action, resourcefulness)

“Easy, little viking. I’m not going to hurt you.” Funny words, from the woman whose claws had just shredded two men. But the girl herself was not helpless- small knife or no. Muninn raises her hands, smiling faintly. 

It takes a moment of focus, for the claws to sheathe, and Muninn breathes- the display had been savage, yes, but necessary. They’d not had any good intentions. “You’re bold, to be out so far alone, little thing.”

[ulfhrafnxa]

Starter for the sweetest viking @gentledottir

    ❝ ---Move your hand closer to the hilt. Tighten your grip. ❞ She guides the other’s hand with her own, gently squeezing to demonstrate the correct level of strength required. ❝ A blade will do you no good if it is knocked from your hand. ❞

[kristnirpresti]

{ @gentledottir liked this }

Unlike his reaction with Bjorn, where he asked if the young man recognized him, Athelstan was almost stunned when he saw Gyda. She had grown so much in such a little time. He walked up behind her, tapping her shoulder lightly, he had a small smile on his face too, “Hello Gyda.”

[yourprincessjudith-blog]

[small starter for @gentledottir]

Judith had strayed a bit off of the main paths in Kattegat, cold and afraid she struggled finding her way back. All she could see were miles of trees and they all looked the same, there was no way of figuring out which way she came from. Frustrated, she sat herself against a large tree and buried her face in her hands.

A few moments later she heard rustling coming from a few feet away. “Who’s there?!” she yelled out.

[battleshaper-blog]

回 - gentledottir ( 'cause Gyda/Björn feels! ^-^ also hiiiiiii! ^-^ )

Send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse (…). Accepting. 回  - Patching a wound.

          “Father shouldn’t give you nicknames. Now you really think you are Bjørn Ironside.”

          Her voice was worried and humorous at the same time, hands ably and carefully sewing the wound in his back. It was supposed to hurt, yet Bjørn couldn't to feel anything under the soft and delicate touch of his sister. He didn’t knew if the herbs were preventing his pain, but it surely smelled good and relaxing. Sitting on his bed, he felt his head heavy  and eyes aching to close, but tried to keep himself awake until Gyda was done with his bandage.

          “I agree. Now that I am Ironside, it will be harder to die and get to Valhalla.”

          A smile crossed his face when he heard her gasp. Gyda was always the sensitive one, the girl with such a big heart that she could not conceive the idea of killing other people - regardless of their religion or what would be gained with their deaths. She didn’t believe in treasures taken with war and blood, she never wanted to be a shield maiden, she never wanted to see England or Paris. She respected the Gods, but she didn’t understand why the humans around her needed to be all so violent and eager to die. 

           “Don’t say it. Valhalla can wait for you. There’s no need to rush it and leave me alone in this world before it’s time.”

           Bjørn tried to turn his head and see her, but a hand gently made him stay exactly where he was. Don’t move, she said, voice calm as breeze. Bjørn couldn't insist, not when she used that sweet voice of her. It was always like this: he was a thunderstorm - loud and angry; shattering windows and drowning men - and she was a tree - strong but peaceful; growing with sunlight and helping everyone in her way. He was born a fighter and she was born a healer; they were meant for each other since they came crying from the same womb. They were brothers and soulmates, best friends for a lifetime; even when he found a girlfriend and she married her husband. They were a safe point for each other: brotherly love at it's finest.            

           “Done. Now you need to rest before hurting another part of your body. Father is sleeping too, there won’t be any party today. Sleep and tomorrow you can drink and tell us all the bloody things you did in Paris.”

           He knew she was angry… Or was that sadness? Probably the second, because he had seen her leaving the parties with tears in her eyes before. She wasn’t built for it, that was the truth. She was not like Lagertha or any of the shield-maiden who fought side by side with him; she was strong enough to take pain, physical or not, but she was too soft to deal with other’s people tragedies. 

            She is cursed just like me - he tought. The sons of Ragnar who will never be happy because he taught us to not believe in happiness. I’m cursed to never die and enter Valhalla; she is cursed to live among warriors and death and hate every wound she see and every word about war - but she will still heal and I will still fight. Let’s hope someday the Gods consider our curse over.

           “Okay, mom.” He laughed, teasing her about that parental way she used to talk with him. Bjørn lied carefully in his bed, trying not to fuck with the wound she had just patched. He closed his eye, calm and heavy, his body immediately responding and falling asleep when he felt her hand running trough his hair. “I promise I won’t die tonight.”

[theboatbuilderswife]

sonderistic replied:

I am FOREVER a derp but I FOREVER miss all of you ! ❤ - gentledottir

                                (   you’re not bb, but remember that we will always welcome you back here with open arms whenever you feel ready to and when Gyda pokes you again ❤ take your time, always take your time.   )