I’m going to be hopping onto the Viking au right now because I’m literally in love with right now lol.
The way you and Simon first meet was actually him hunting for the village weekly feast. He was dragging around his dead game, waiting to be roasted and glazed with honey. Simon stopped for a moment as he counted how many arrows he had left. One..two..ten..fifteen. He didn’t care, he was ready to go home anyways. Just a few more pigs and deers and that should enough on his part.
Meanwhile you, a girl from a smaller, lesser know village. As the cleric and medic of your village you were expected to the berries during the fall before all of the plants and berries died. Your village was very strict for that, knowing that they had a long history of men, women’s no children dying to common sickness and yet not having enough to save their unfortunate lives.
Simon started to prepare his bow as he saw a fluffy sheep graze by. And my was this sheep rather fluffy. He placed the bow carefully on the bow, drawing it back. His eyes trained closely on the sheep.
You bent and picked up the precious berries, checking if they had fungus on them. You arose from the ground to feel a slice on your face. The blood trickled down your cheek and under your chin. “Ah! W-who goes there?” You sheepishly screamed. You clutch the tiny dragged tipped with poison. Simon head rose from the log he hid behind. He finally realized he didn’t hit a sheep, but rather a pretty lady dressed in warm sheep coat. “Ma’am I apologize. I mistook you for a sheep.”
Your cheeks puffed up as you placed your hand on your hips. “A sheep! How dare you!” You huffed. You stomp softly to him, chest puffed up. “Yes, I am sorry. I can make it up to you by taking you to the feast held at my village.” He offered.
“What village are you from?” You asked, holding the basket of berries in your hands. “Spec.” He mumbled. You gasped as you realize the village name. You’ve heard of how strong their leader was and how he was able to save his village from nasty beast and greedy pillagers. “Spec! Your leader must extremely strong! I’ve heard story of you all. We’re nothing compared to yours.”
“Well, then lets go. I can show how really strong we are at the feast.” Simon quickly walked away leaving you stunned. “H-hey! Wait for me!”
A/N: I’m so sorry for the weird posting schedule – I’m currently planning my wedding and doing my education on the side, so it’s a little messy here.
Anyway, here’s the next chapter! I hope you’ll like it!
You were feeling warm, like the afternoon sun was hitting your back; despite the early hours and the harsh wind roaring around you, sea-water droplets hitting your face.
You had woken up earlier than ever, after a bunch of dreams you couldn’t quite figure out and had simply walked out of your home and straight down to the waterfront. You had been sitting there, watching the sun come up, thinking about life and your strange dreams, when a shadow hovered over you.
“Mind if I join?” it was Sam, towering over you with a gentle smile. You gestured to the sand and stared out over the water again. He was quiet for a while, simply looking over the waters with you.
“I always wanted to go with my father on raids. I wanted to see more of the world, in all the forms it can take. He never allowed it.” You said quietly. He chuckled.
“The world is vast. It’s way more, than you could ever imagine.” You smiled:
“I believe it is. Your world seems much bigger than mine.” You looked to Sam, who simply shrugged.
“It’s different, I’ll say that much.” Silence fell over you both, while the sun rose higher on the sky. He looked to you with a soft smile.
“My brother seems to like you.” You raised your eyebrows at him:
“It’s not a bad thing, it’s just weird. He… Doesn’t really trust anybody.” You nodded.
“I… He is a kind man. I do not think he realizes that himself.” Sam shook his head.
“Nah, he probably doesn’t. I just wanted to know…” He drew a deep breath and turned to you. He was a handsome man, even beautiful – the brothers had apparently been graced by the gods.
“I need to know if we can trust you. I want to know… If… If he trusts you, that you won’t go and break him.”
“I will promise you this: if he trusts me as much as I trust him, he will never need to worry. I will protect him with my life.” Sam nodded.
“I think he’d do the same for you.” He got up and brushed the sand from his pants and nodded.
“You… You should go to him.” You narrowed your eyes in confusion. Sam merely smiled and shrugged, leaving you alone with the soft glow of warmth from the rising sun.
He couldn’t mean that Dean… Felt like you? By Freyja, it seemed impossible, but you wished with every beat of your heart, that he might feel the same. You stood slowly, looking to the fjord, the gentle waves reminding you of Dean’s smile, and you made up your mind.
No one ever won a battle by standing still.
You walked with determined steps towards the hut, but were stopped dead in your tracks by Knut, who somehow materialized in front you, out of breath.
“We’re in trouble.” You glared at him.
“You always are, Knut. The æsir* never smiled upon you.” You made to move past him, but his arm flew out, grabbing your chestplate.
“They have sent warning. They’re… They’re coming. Now. If you get your brothers, we might have a chance. If not, we’re dead.” You sighed.
“Get my father. He’ll organize. It is, after all, his andskoti*.”
You stepped away from him and turned to face him.
“If you touch me again without my say so, you will lose your hand.” Knut looked startled and somewhat hurt. You left, fuming mildly. Knut had been poised to be your husband – he had tried as much as he could, at least, and your father seemed to like him enough to consider him; you never cared for him. He was a slob, and the only reason he had anything to say was because of his father, the boat-builder.
You reached the cabin, where Dean and Sam stayed and knocked gently before opening the door. Sam looked at you with raised brows and stood up.
“I totally forgot I wanted to.. Uhm… Speak to the soothsayer. Yes.” He left without saying anything else. You turned to Dean, who laid in his bed, in only his pants and with a very big axe next to him – you didn’t remember giving him one. You pointed at it.
“You got a weapon?” he simply nodded and sat up, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the dark, wooden cabin.
“What can I do for you, Y/N?” He smirked. He knew what he did to you, he must know, because it ad to be witchcraft – there was no way in the world, he could make your heart race like this without knowing.
“Uhm… We must fight. Again.” He nodded.
“You guys never really take a break, do you?” You huffed in mirth.
“I suppose not.”
“You could have told us that when Sam was still here. I know my brother well enough to know when he lies.” He had stood up, inching closer to you, still with that smile plastered on his face.
“I…” You didn’t know what to say. He smiled as he reached you, his body seemingly warmer than fire – you, at least, felt like you were burning.
“I… Do you know what ást* is?” he raised his eyebrows in surprise and shook his head.
“Find out. If you can figure out what it means, I’ll… Well, we shall see what happens then.”
You quickly stepped back and turned to leave, your hand already on the door, when his calloused hand grabbed your elbow and spun you right back to him – your chest collided with his and you were suddenly out of breath, as if you had been running a battlefield in heavy armor.
“I think I can guess.” He whispered. His breath smelled like honey.
You never got a chance to respond, before his lips descended on you – a warmth, you had never felt, spread throughout your body and settled in between your legs, curling and heating like you had never felt before.
His arms were around your waist, and you realized you hadn’t moved; you closed your eyes and wrapped your hand in his hair, sliding your tongue over his full lips, begging silently for entrance. He growled slightly when you tugged his hair, and you couldn’t help but grin against his lips. You jumped, without warning, and prayed to the gods, he would catch you – he did without hesitation, and you wrapped your legs around him while your tongue wrestled his for domination.
You both fell down on the bed, you on top of him and you were panting – you could feel his hard cock pressing against your heat. You gently kissed him once more and sat up straight.
“Though I enjoy this, we do have a battle to prepare for.” He chuckled and kissed your hand.
“So what did the word mean?” He asked in a whisper.
You got out of the bed, and smiled at him.
“Love.”
*Æsir: Gods
*Andskoti: Enemy
*ást: Affectionational love
A/N: I know, I know, I’ve got like 5 stories I haven’t finished, but this one has been stuck with me since… I don’t even know. I need to write it, post it and get it out of my system, so sorry! I’ll get back to the other stories slowly but surely, but for now… I need to write my damn Vikings-story!
If you want to be added to the taglist, shoot me an ask!
As always, remember feedback feeds the writer!
Story: When Dean and Sam angers a very old witch, they get transported to a foreign land in a foreign time; now they need to find their way back to their own time, whilst Dean slowly but surely gets closer and closer to the Earls daughter, a shieldmaiden.
MASTERLIST
BY DAWN AND BLOOD MASTERLIST
Buy me a coffee – help me pay for my wedding!
Pairings: Viking!Reader x Dean
Warnings: language, mentions of blood, mentions of swordfighting, mentions of battle
Chapter 1: the strangers
Sweat dripped into your eyes as you swirled around, shield stretched out before you – your braids stung, as they hit the back of your neck and your opponent, Arvid, grinned widely. He was sweating too, and blood trickled from the cut on his cheek.
“You’ve improved, Y/N Egildaugter.” You snarled but couldn’t help the smile from blooming. You let your shield down and bowed down to Arvid.
“I’ve been trained well, Arvid Bardsson.” He grinned and threw his sword to the ground, quickly grabbing you and rubbing your hair harshly.
“Your father will be proud to hear of his daughter, I promise you.” You grinned and walked arm in arm with Arvid through Holdgate – your home and your fathers Earldom. People greeted the two of you as you strolled through the square, the scent of burning wood and salted fish hanging in the air. As you reached the main hall, Arvid let your arm go and grabbed you by the shoulders, staring into your eyes.
“We’ll make a shieldmaiden of you yet, Y/N.” you grinned and slapped him lightly on the cheek.
“Go tend to your wounds, Arvid. I’ll see you at the feast tonight.” He nodded and let you go, walking towards Helga’s hut – the old woman, who had become the town healer. You turned and went inside the main hall – the scent of wood, furs and mead hung in the air like a blanket, and your father sat on his chair, in a fevered discussion with his right-hand man, Frode. They looked aggravated and your father constantly spilled the mead from his horn. They both stopped dead in their discussion, when they saw you.
“Please, don’t stop on my account. I rather enjoy looking at my father getting a talking to.” Frode grinned widely.
“You are still my favorite, dear Y/N.” your father rolled his eyes, but a smile played on his lips, ghosting over his harsh features.
“My daughter, this has no bearing to you. Go wash off.” You raised your eyebrows.
“It concerns me, if it concerns you, Father.” Frode looked from your father to you and laughed.
“She truly is your daughter, Egil. I can see her hands itching for a fight. Let her know.” You father sighed and looked at you with wide eyes.
“We have trespassers. They won’t tell where they came from or who sent them. It is like a trick from the Gods, or the Earl of Dalby has sent them to spy on us.” You nodded solemnly.
“What do they call themselves?” You asked. You father grinned.
“Curious, are you my daughter? Ask them yourself. They refuse to tell any more.” You frowned.
“Have you had them held?” He nodded. Frode laughed again.
“You must learn the duties, daughter.” You sighed and nodded.
“Alright. I’ll try, father.” You excused yourself and grabbed a shield on your way out, and slid a battleaxe into your belt before leaving the hall again, walking quickly towards the prison-hold.
You were curious. You wanted to see the world, the people, and you wanted to raid and fight; if the prisoners were from a foreign land, like your father so often talked about, they might give you your chance to go.
The wooden door was ajar, and the room inside was dark – you lit a torch on the side of the door and went to your knees. As your eyes adjusted, you couldn’t help but gasp – the men were enormous, like the tales of the frostgiants, and their garments looked foreign and weird. The slightly shorter one was glaring at you, but it looked like his eyes roamed you – he looked curious more than angry. The tallest one, whose hair hung low in his eyes, snorted and turned away.
“Hvem ar I?” you asked, your voice swallowed by the walls surrounding them. The shorter one grunted.
“Listen lady, we don’t talk whatever you are.” You frowned.
“You speak the language?” you asked. Both of their eyes snapped to you.
“You understand us?” You nodded. He was like a warrior. Broad and dark, and looked like he would be carrying a sword, had he not been bound in the hold.
“I ask again. Who are you? Did Earl Dag of Dalby send you?” They both looked confused.
“Uhm… I’m Sam, this is Dean.” He pointed to himself and then the other man, whose eyes were still roaming you – he kept looking at your armor and corset, but his eyes mostly stood fast at your axe.
“I know it’s a good axe. I got it for my nameday.” You said with a slight smile. His head whipped up and he blushed slightly. He reminded you of the young boys who had just started growing beards.
“we’re brothers. Are you… Where are we?” the taller one, Sam, asked again. You shifted your weight, so you could cross your legs and sit comfortably. They seemed somewhat sane, and you didn’t feel threatened – more curious than anything.
“I’m the Earls daughter. You are in our home, Holdgate.” The shorter one nodded. He was a pretty man – he reminded you of Bjorn, the fiercest warrior in your homestead. His eyes were curious, and he looked ready to fight, even though his hands were tied behind his back. He looked strong.
“Holdgate?” He asked. His voice sounded like honeymead, like the one your mother made when you were sick. You nodded.
“Oh, fuck.” He looked at his brother, who looked equally worried.
