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Chapter Text

Sea calm and peaceful,  three boats quietly sailing the seas without hitch.  Though one foreign, indistinguishable from the rest par the lighter sail colour —  a turquoise, the colour muted,  as if it hadn't seen the sun for years. 

it sailed swiftly behind the others, attached by a mere rope. dispensable.  It was unordinary,  a new addition to the pirate fleet.  No doubt it would be used to hoard their treasures. None of them pirates could row the thing,  one large paddle laid atop six smaller ones —  having clearly been meant for Thors.  The man rowing for the equivalent of six men.

Sat neatly in the corner,  stowed away with the remaining the supplies that were supposed to have been for them. Remnants of home plagued the lower level,  the space tight and cramped, barely large enough for an average sized man to fit.  There sat Thorfinn.  Knees up to his chest, coddled by his arms as he sobbed.

Rickety wood creaked,  water hitting the sides of the boat. Barrels sat either side of the young boy,  discarded rope strewn across the wooden floor,  sacks of unknown contents stuffed half hazardly, no correlation with any other.

Sobs bounced off the wood,  barely audible over the sound of water crashing into the sides. The boy, no older than six hugged his knees tighter, unsure of how to comfort himself.  Voice hoarse and scratchy from how long he had been crying.

Words endlessly falling from his lips,  waiting for a response from somebody who couldn't answer him. Nobody was on the ship.  Only him. His lonesome,  unsure of how the world works.  Unsure if he could even survive without his Father.

Whimpers rolled off his tongue.  Whines ever louder.

Time seemed to stop,  unmoving yet relentless. Mere hours ago Thorfinn had been with his Father,  talking non-stop of going to England with Leif and the other six boys.  The talk of War had completely blown past him.  Excited to be on the water.  Hear the waves crashing into the boat,  the talk of sea life and the various fish he saw breaking the surface water.

It was fleeting, really.  Thorfinn had been grateful.  Grateful that his Father didn't turn back and drop him back home for his Mother and Ylva to yell at him. 

If they hadn't stopped at the Faroe Islands.  If Father hadn't thrown his weapon away. If he had actually fought back. The mental image of his Father valiantly standing still,  his blue tunic stained red with burgundy blood. The arrows that rained down on him stuck into various parts of his body.  How Thorfinn pleaded with him to not leave him,  frantically questioning why he threw his sword away through heavy tears.

Why would they take his Father away from him?

" Father..  why did you die?"

A shaky voice stuttered out,  openly questioning Freyja.  His loyalty and faith diminishing the more he questioned.

The boy was shaken with fear. Shaken with grief.  Tiny hands dug into skin beneath his brown tunic,  knees curled to his body —  wanting a sense of security. 

The boat eerily quiet,  the only noise being Thorfinn.  Only hours ago was it full of laughter,  anticipation. Now replaced with silence,  doubt. 

" You were–  always the strongest!.. "

The voice cries out.  Waves softly crashing into against the hull,  as if trying to lull the boy to calm down. But to no avail,  the young boy was inconsolable.

" Why did you throw your sword? .. "

Thorfinn questions,  not to himself,  but to his Father.  Trying to reason with a ghost. The warrior was no doubt enjoying the halls of Valhalla,  mind no longer plagued with earthly matters.

Through soft waves,  creaks of old wood,  the sound of soft conversation could be heard above.  The two ships packed with sleeping pirates fruitfully sleeping with no worries or doubts in their minds.

The silence hurting Thorfinn's ears.  The embers of hatred starting to take light inside of him. His body shook with every sob,  every whimper,  every whine. 

" To say a warrior doesn't need one?.. "

He continued,  inconsolable. Tears streaming down his face,  honey-coloured eyes bloodshot.  Flashes of him pleading to his Father on his knees,  sobbing uncontrollably as his Father tried to comfort him in his final moments. 

Nobody dared help.  Fearful of the archers perched on the cliff edge.  Cowardly. 

" How can that be the truth? "

He sobbed,  not understanding his Father's actions.  So honourable yet stupid.  Letting himself be beaten by rogue pirates,  wanting honour in his final moments yet they wouldn't give the same courtesy. 

Had his Mother and Ylva heard the news?  Had Leif already gotten back by now,  same with the other six men?  were they back with their families?

His Mother would be devastated.  The family, His family torn apart.  

The stuffiness of the confined space,  the dust that flew in the air whenever a wave crashed against the hull —  it was unbearable.  His strained sobs seemingly never ending.  His desire to avenge his Father,  growing ever more.

" Why did he have to..–  damn it–  that bastard! "

The young boy cried,  clenching his hands tighter over his arms, holding himself closer.  Sentences seemed far away.  Reason seemed far away.  He would kill Askeladd with his bare hands.  The brown tunic held firm in his small hands,  chubby fingers holding onto it tight.  A safety mechanism.

" Father beat him!  but he's still–..  damn it! "

He rambled,  screaming into his knees.  Voice hoarse and raspy.  Continuing to further grip his sleeves,  the sound of the leather tightening in his grip rung loud within the space.

There was nobody to console him.  Nobody to tell him it would be okay.  To tell him that his Father wasn't dead. 

" How could Father be dead,  and that monster's still alive? "

Tears streamed down his red cheeks,  his grip on his sleeves dropped.  The boy continued to sob, tears seemingly endless. 

He would kill Askeladd.  With his bare  hands. Watch him bleed,  suffer like his Father did.  The pain he had to endure,  He could give that experience to Askeladd ten fold.

A small hand gripped his fringe,  eyes wide and dilated.  Once Honey-coloured now almost a deep amber.  Flames of hatred burned bright within his irises.  Teeth clenched,  grinding against one another.  A long, drawn out  'How.'  rolled off his tongue through clenched teeth,  desperately searching for an answer to his question.  Why did Askeladd deserve to live?  A monster like him.

The moon was bright,  distinguishable from the grey-blue sky.  It hide behind semi-transparent clouds,  quickly out on full display.  The sea a gentle dark blue,  hiding whatever monsters stalk beneath the waves. 

Little over eighty men spread across two boats,  Thor's boat tied to the second boat,  more off to the side.  Showing the clear divide.

none of the pirates could row Thor's ship,  the oar Thors used far too heavy for an average male to handle,  let alone actually paddle with it.

It was calming.  The sea.  The moon's light gently gracing the top of the water,  adding a hint of shine to the murky water. 

On the leading ship, towards the back, stood two men.  Both holding drinking horns full to the brim with mead in them.  Both stared at the stolen ship barely keeping pace with the first two.

" They really knuckled under, didn't they?"

" Abandoning such a nice ship. "

The man spoke up,  a short chuckle escaping his mouth after.  The man had wheat-coloured hair and moustache,  complementary to his features —  pure Dane.  His tanned complexion meshed well with the grey-greenish tunic he bore. 

Atli.

Both stood alone on the ship,  seemingly the onlt ones who couldn't —  wouldn't sleep. Too involved in discussing what had happened mere hours ago.  The death of a Warrior.

Or maybe it didn't matter all that much to them.  Too involved what they were going to do once they got back to dry land,  or even what village they were going to raid next —  or even simply set up camo somewhere.

" Apparently they couldn't move it without Thors,  he was paddling for five all by himself. "

The chubbier one explained,  taking a sip of mead from the horn gripped firmly in his hand.  The man's hair shorter and lighter than the leaner one,  adorning a blue tunic with gold accents around the neck and sleeves. 

Torgrim.

" Really? "

The other doubted,  a condescending inflection clear in his voice.  Paddling for five seemed absurd,  but the size of the paddle begged to differ.

" Talk about good fortune thought, "

" We were starting to need a third ship. "

Torgrim huffed out,  downing the last of his mead,  holding his head back as he swallowed the bitter concoction.  A heavy,  relieved sigh escaped his mouth,  a large burp quickly following suit. 

Brown eyes quickly locked with a small figure.  Wheat coloured hair swayed gently in the breeze,  hateful eyes staring directly at the two on the ship infront.  

The young boy looked like a ghost.  The ambience of silence thickening,  gentle moonlight cascading over the small figure. 

A soft 'oh'  left Torgrim's mouth,  eyes glancing over his shoulder at Atli,  silently asking if it wasn't just him who saw the boy,  hoping having not had enough to drink that he had already started seeing things. 

Thorfinn was deathly still.  Remnant of how his Father stood,  arrows buried deep into his skin.  

" Isn't that the kid we saw with Thors? "

Atli asked,  taking a sip of his mead,  finishing it off before locking eyed with Torgrim. A quick nod from Torgrim was all the confirmation he needed.

Glancing at the small figure,  seperated by sea.  Atli had an unnerving feeling that,  if he was closer,  the boy would gouge his eyes out the second be got a chance.  Regardless if the boy looked no older than six.  Those eyes.  Looked like a killers.

" Askeladd! Hey!  You should come see this! "

Torgrim yelled,  earning multiple groans from the various men scattered around tbe ship,  trying their best to sleep.  

The sound had managed to stir Askeladd,  who lay hunched up on the other side of the ship.  Warmly wrapped in a thin,  yet suitable blanket.  Green eyes pierced the two men from far away,  unsure what the commotion was.

" Askeladd! "

Torgrim yelled once more,  earning a huff from Askeladd,  the man not particularly wanting to leave the warmth of the blankeg behind.  

Thorfinn only stared.  Hatred pouring out of once innocent eyes who looked on in just. Honey-coloured eyes now a deep amber. 

Askeladd shifted from the comfort of the blanket,  a heavy sigh followed.

" Im coming. "

" Just keep it down,  would 'ya? "

The gruff man replied,  though not nearly loud enough for the other two men to hear him.  

Waves washed gently against the ship,  every crew member grateful at the gracefulness of the sea.  Moonlight illuminated the ships enough to see your footing.  The glow of the moon resemblant of the sun in those final hours. 

The wind suddenly picked up,  the young boy stood frozen,  staring on at the ship infront,  as if trying to find ways to cross the sea within a second.  Small hands clenched at his side. 

Thorfinn stared on in hate.  Dislike.  Murderous intent.  Eyes far too heavy for that of a childs. Gaze locked onto one thing,  and one thing only. 

Gripped in his right hand lay a Seax.  His Fathers.  small engravings on the steel in Nordic.  Such a dangerous weapon for a boy to hold,  even without any knowledge,  Thorfinn has the intent to kill. 

The ship swayed with the sea,  tugging along with the rope wrapped around the dragon's neck.  

Torgrim and Atli waited for Askeladd to lay his eyes on the scene infront of them.  A stowaway.  A thing none had expected to happen. A boy so young to be any of their children.  A face so full of hatred. 

No boy should be so hateful.

The three men stood at the end of the ship,  all staring at one thing.  Thorfinn. 

Askeladd seemingly unimpressed with the turn of events.  Although having been paid well by Floki,  it wasn't worth the effort to look at a boy.  Especially one whose Fathers he had murdered with dishonour.

" Thors kid came along.  He was hiding in the bottom of their ship. "

Torgrim explained,  glancing at Askeladd.  The older male letting go of a heavy sigh on the tip of his tongue.  

In the process,  effectively waking up some of the men,  wanting to see what the commotion was.  Mumbled chatter now plagued the ship,  though Askeladd's eyes never once left Thorfinn. 

" Awh look at that,  he's got a little dagger there. "

" Ohh no.. what'll we do ?.."

One of the pirates cooed aloud,  pointing out the seax gripped heavy in the boys' hand.  Finding it comical that such a young boy was even capable of holding such a dangerous weapon. 

Laughter arouse between the men now awake, par Askeladd. Not taking the boy seriously.  who would?  Thorfinn was just a young boy.  Nothing more,  nothing less.

Thorfinn stared over in anger,  teeth clenching the more the band of pirates laughed at his attempt to seem serious. The wind howled,  seemingly in tandem with the boy's spike in anger. 

" Cowards... "

The boy muttered under his breath,  the tone laced with disdain.  Disgust.  Hatred. His bottom lip trembled,  the continuous sound of laughter grating to his ears.  How could they laugh after what they had done to his Father?

Taking in a deep breath,  

" How dare you ?"

" How dare you take a warrior like my father! "

The boy screamed at the top of his lungs,  back hunched as he leaned forward to scream.  Eyes full of anger.  Hand gripped the seax tighter,  the force hurting his supple skin.

The laughter stopped,  not out of pity, but out of surprise.  None expected such a weak looking child to scream at the top of their lungs,  hushed whispers replaced the laughter.  

But Askeladd had never laughed to begin with,  simply staring at the boy with indifference.

" Im gonna kill you for that! "

Such harsh words.  Hateful actions said with such confidence.  Like Thorfinn would actually go through with the act.

" I'll be the last thing you see! "

Even the hushed whispers had stopped.  Grown men shocked at the words the young boy yelled.  

Thorfinn clenched the seax tighter,  eyes locked onto Askeladd,  Askeladd alone.  Rage consuming the young boy,  wanting revenge for his Father. 

" I'll kill you do you hear me! "

His voice long and drawn out,  hoarse and scratchy from yelling so loud.  Swinging his arms up dramatically before swinging them back down with his full body weight,  staying in that position,  breathing heavily.

The men could only watch,  slightly uncomfortable with how serious the boy sounded. 

" Im gonna kill you! "

It was long.  Drawn out.  Full intent behind the words.  Drool dribbled from his open mouth,  eyes wide,  crazy looking.  

Thorfinn heaved heavily,  in,  out.  Tilting his head upwards to lock eyes with Askeladd.  His face scrunched up,  lip curled with disgust.  

A young boy.  So fruitful and pure.  Now only angry,  discontent.  Unsatisfied with not only himself,  but the continued living of Askeladd.  Heavy growls oozed from his mouth,  like a rabid animal,  cornered and injured.

The air seemed to get colder,  heavier.  Wind picking up the longer the two parties stared at eachother. 

" He's only a boy.  But just look into those eyes. "

Atli spoke up,  breaking the silence between the men —   throughout this,  Askeladd hadn't said anything in response to the boy,  nor how he was acting.  Completely indifferent,  like he had seen it before.  The exact same situation.

Hot breath dissipated from the boy's mouth into the cold air,  looking almost like an angry bull.  Ready to strike at any moment without a second hesitation.  But the difference, Thorfinn would hesitate.  

" So what should we do, Boss?"

" Toss him overboard? "

Torgrim questions,  ready to be of use to Askeladd at a moments notice. 

Silence ensued.  No one dare talk incase Askeladd were to speak up.  A second seemed like forever,  the silence inbetween the question and answer was drawn out.

" Just leave him. "

The blonde instructed,  having no further comments on the situation before retreating from where he came from.  Having enough of the situation.

" He'll die soon anyway. "

Askeladd added,  walking away —  which prompted others to follow, par Torgrim and Atli.

Thorfinn stayed still,  breathing heavy,  his small chest rising and falling with each breath.  Anger caught in his lungs.  The two men spared at boy one final glance, though eventually also turning their backs.  Leaving Thorfinn to his own devices.

The young boy continued staring at the ship infront,  wanting nothing more than to go over and slit Askeladd's throat —  watch the blood flow,  the life drain from his eyes.  The boy wanted him dead.

Tears swelled up in his eyes.  Only a second ago,  they were sharp,  alert.  Now blurry and unfocused.  His sobs now the only noise made from the three ships. The boy's head dipped once the tears came,  as if ashamed to cry anymore.

The wind settled,  a cool breeze brushing against the boy as he sat where he had been standing.  The seax hugged close to his chest,  the last remnants of his Father.

The distinctive sound of laughter rung loud over the open ocean.  The skies an ombré of dark blues and light blues,  contrasting the ocean.  Men sat around,  talking and laughing as if they have done no wrong in the world.

Both of Askeladd's ships sailed infront,  still tugging the hollow,  once flourishing ship that situated Thorfinn on.  

Men complained of the lack of booze,  the only drinkable they had on board.  Some laughed it off, some fester over it,  salty of the poor conditions they had to suffer in.

" How long until we get there? "

Torgrim questioned Askeladd,  holding a chicken leg in his hand, still uneaten. The chubbier man clearly impatient,  along with the other men. 

" At this point, I figure we wouldve gotten paid. "

The man added,  referring to the hefty lot of money Floki had offered Askeladd to kill Thors.  The price alone would have been enough to keep the men happy for a month or two,  a rare luxury the lot couldn't really afford.

" Have patience, Men."

" We'll be there soon."

Askeladd eased,  drinking mead from his own drinking horn.  He say lax at the helm of the ship,  one leg propped up on the step and one lazily to the side.

Thorfinn say against the edge of the boat,  a few ropes strewn across the deck,  nothing to eat or drink.  The pirates had already pillaged the ship of any valuables,  yet having not seen him in the hull. 

The boy's lips dry and chapped.  It had been days since his first outburst.  Small whimpers rolled off his tongue,  amber-coloured eyes staring directly at a medium-sized basin that held rain water. 

He was so thirsty.  Desperate enough to crawl his way over,  kneeling infront of it.  hesitantly leaning his head over,  contemplating if it was worth it.  Days without water was making him go mad,  time seemed to move without warning. 

Thorfinn plunged his head to the water,  choking some of it down his throat before immediately choking it back up.  The taste salty yet earthy,  certainly not clean water.  It left a bitter taste in his mouth,  the saltiness making his eyes water. 

With head hung low,  he silently cried,  sobbed even.  Unsure of how to care for himself without any guidance.  His face hot and sweaty from the sun,  everything was becoming an issue —  his clothes were too tight,  his skin felt itchy and weird.  Small things were adding up to a major one,  one more push and he might go crazy.

Birch trees surrounded the river,  the three ships slowly taking their time.  Fog set low on the ground,  the leaves on the trees a mix between vibrant oranges and muted.  Some even red.

The sound of rowing and grunting almost disguised by the water.  The ground was a bright green,  the foliage and bushes all different shades of green. 

Thorfinn hung his arms over the edge,  letting water rush past his fingertips. Amber-coloured eyes glanced at the ship infront,  primarily at Askeladd.  The man's unusually blonde hair,  his black with gold accented armour matching the brown tunic underneath. 

When docked,  the men lazed around,  all having agreed they earned a break.  Most sat on the ships, some on the docks, or even unloading some of the essentials. 

Askeladd stood alongside Björn,  carefully glancing over his men and their actions.

" So who's watching the ships? "

Björn asked,  a deep, gruff voice. 

Askeladd cocked a brow at the taller male,  almost condescendingly. 

" We won't be here for long. "

" Just stopping for a short rest. "

The man countered,  earning a nod from his subordinate.

Thorfinn watched from the safety of the ship,  making sure to conceal himself enough that nobody saw him.  The boy hoped the men had forgotten about his existence. 

He watched as the thirty or so men grabbed their weapons and some other things Thorfinn didn't know and start their trek into the forest.  Where they were going ?  Thorfinn hadn't had the slightest clue.

A feeling of dread washed over him.  If he was left here, what would that mean for his survival?  It was slowly getting dark.

Deciding to take a risk,  watching as the last man marched into the forest.  Thorfinn got out of the ship,  planting his feet on dry ground.  It wasn't anything like the frozen ground in the village, no.  It was somewhat hard yet soft in some places.  And no snow.  Something Thorfinn was beginning to miss.

Wanting to catch up with the men,  Thorfinn took no time following the same path into the forest as them.  Slowly trailing behind them,  though his footsteps noticeable and loud.  

Amber eyes watched as the man marched up the hill,  carrying their spears, axes and swords.  It had made Thorfinn wonder what they were up to. 

Not realising his footing.  The boy slipped on moss covering a rock,  his weight shifting to his left foot.  With a loud 'woah', the boy had managed to roll down a rather steep hill,  banging his head against a tree at the bottom. 

When he woke, it was dark.  The sound of a flowing stream caught his attention.  The sudden head movement made him hiss in pain,  though through gritted teeth,  Thorfinn managed to stand up.  Ears perking up at the sound of water.  He was so very thirsty.

Managing to find the flowing water was a Godsend.  The boy immediately kneeling before dunking his hands in the water, bringing it to his mouth.  It was refreshing.  Not having to drinking sea water. 

Though clothes below the knee and his sleeves being wet,  Thorfinn didn't mind it.  Simply having water to drink almost made it bearable.

small lilypads float on the waters surface, fallen leaves glide gracefully.  The moonlight reflected off the water from the small gaps in the leaves. The distant sound of frogs added to the peaceful ambiance,  various woodland creatures could be heard. Birds, deer,  even elk.

It was peaceful.  peaceful enough to make even Thorfinn appreciate it.  A calmer atmosphere than back on the boat. Small giggles escape his lips, slouching his back as he gazed up at the moonlight. Childlike.

The scenery was beautiful,  trees encircling the small river,  it was wide yet shallow. Different coloured leaves slowly fell onto the waters surface. Thorfinn continued gazing up at the moon,  soft giggles still continuing.

The sudden rumble of his stomach is what made the peacefulness go away,  his eyes slightly widening before staring down at his stomach, placing his small hand there before letting it drop.

Those woodland creatures sounds soon replaced with the sound of terrifying screams,  and the unmistakable stench of smoke and ash. 

Thorfinn glanced up the hill infront of him,  through the treeline —  small colours of flames poke through. The screams of women, men and children alike all rangout through the forest,  the noise of birds fluttering their wings to get away,  even the frogs stopped croaking.

Thorfinn stood up,  eyes wide.  As if his feet moved on their own.  Why was he running towards the fire, and not away from it?

Now here he sat,  on his knees,  hands planted securely on his thighs, leaning forward to stare at the fire.  The stench of burning flesh and smoke lay heavy in the air.  

Adrenaline coursed through his veins,  though he wasn't doing anything.  The screams of the villagers drowned out by the yelling of Askeladd's band and the crackling of the fire.

Thorfinn watched as some of the men dragged women off separately,  the reason why?  Thorfinn wasn't sure.  But he had this terrible feeling it wasn't something good.

He had spent hours just observing.  Watching the flames slowly die down.  Watching the villagers be slaughtered like animals.  He felt sick.

Stumbling into the burned village,  some houses left standing,  obviously for the use of the men.  The ground stunk of blood and gore, the quiet crackling of the burning campfire,  the hole dug off to the side where most of the bodies were piled up.

Thorfinn held the seax, clutching both hands with it, holding the blade out as if it would protect him.  He stopped in his tracks,  eyeing one of the houses —  the overwhelming screaming and crying that came from inside the house. 

With feet planted to the ground,  all he could do was listen.  Listen to the moans,  the screaming,  the begging. As loud as it was, none of the men sleeping on the ground near the campire woke up.

The boy felt sick at the noises,  wanting nothing more than to run away. Staring at his seax,  his mind immediately went to Askeladd.

If the man was sleeping, he could easily slit his throat right there and then. 

Quietly making his way through the sleeping men,  winding around a burnt house,  avoiding the men who were still awake.  Thorfinn ended up at one of the three remaining houses in the village. Peaking through the window,  intensely staring at a sleeping Askeladd. 

With eyes glancing at the seax clutched tightly in his hands,  it just wouldn't do. It couldn't slit Askeladd's throat properly.  Glancing around,  his eyes landed on a sword far too big for him.  Simply holding it over his head was nearly enough to send him backwards.

Standing over the blonde man,  raising the steel blade higher,  as if trying to guage the perfect distance.  His hands trembled.  Thorfinn couldn't.  Not so dishonourably. He wasn't Askeladd.

The man stirred onto his back after Thorfinn left,  a loud yawn rolling off his tongue. Having never been asleep in the first place.

The air reeked of death.  Rotting corpses hanging from a nearby tree,  old rope holding them up as the bodies swayed in the wind,  twisting and turning.  Burgundy red blood dripped below onto the green grass.  

Men lazed around crackling campfires.  Askeladd's crew comprised of over a hundred men,  some lounging,  drinking mead while others talked in the early morning. 

The sight of Thorfinn standing with a sword too big for small hands to carry.  

" Hold on,  we left a survivor? "

One shouted,  mistaking Thorfinn for one of the village folk.  The boy's face was scrunched,  eyes heavy with no prior sleep.  Itching for a fight like a dog.

" No,  its the boy, remember?  The Troll of Joms' Son. "

Atli huffed,  gulping down soup made from various ingredients,  random meat,  vegetables and herbs.  The raided village bountiful,  the fruits of their murderous labour paying off.  Various mumbles arose from the crowd of men,  mumbling things,  some confused,  some proud that the small boy had managed to survive so long.

Askeladd stood infront of Björn.  The taller man only sighing at the sight of Thorfinn,  unsure of how to respond to the sight. 

It was annoying, to say the least.  Like a fly in summer.  Persistent and a hinderance.  Standing no taller than Askeladd's waist,  holding a sword far too large for the boys small hands. 

His men sat around,  groggy from sleep,  it having been early morning.  Askeladd wasn't in the mood for such a pest.  Sun battered down on the group,  though air cold and bitter. 

" I must avenge my Father! "

" Im challenging you to a duel! "

Thorfinn screeched,  gripping the sword hilt tighter.  The mass of the sword alone was enough to make the boy lose his balance the higher he displayed it.

Askeladd's men laughed,  in a mocking manner.  Most had expected the boy to pass away on the ship,  having not had drank nor ate anything for days.  Thorfinn had the blood of the Troll of Jom in him after all.

" How are you going to handle this, Askeladd? "

Björn mocked,  a condescending smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.  Firmly patting the blonde's shoulder,  earning a glare from the man. 

The blonde stood deathly still,  a few feet infront of the rodent.  Left hand itching to reach for the hilt of his sword and unsheathe the blade he had so perfectly curated.

His men egged him on,  calling him a coward for not facing such a small opponent. 

" What a pain in the ass. "

The man huffed,  taking in a large breath before sighing.  In the air hung remnants of burnt flesh.  The bodies that hung from the nearby tree stunk,  their once fair skin now blue and bloodied.  Bodies lifeless and unmoving.  None batted an eye,  them having strung the bodies up like that. 

Thorfinn was revolted at the sight.  The smell.  The odd tension lingering around the men,  as if they would snap at any moment if something didn't go their way. 

The boy only glared,  amber irises pooled in hatred.  Gripping the sword hilt so tight it left indents on his soft palms.

" You should have beheaded me in my bed last night. "

Askeladd scoffed,  staring down at the boy as nothing but mere dirt beneath his boots.  A hindrance that couldn't seem to dissipate.

It was pitiful.  The size difference between the two men,  like a son going through a rebellious stage against his Father.  Askeladd would never be his father.

Askeladd looked down,  coated with indifference.  Not bothering to take out his own sword,  much to the dismay of Thorfinn.

" My father taught me better than that. "

Voice soft.  Childlike.  Honour was everything to Thorfinn —  It clinging to him as he did his Father.  If he thought Askeladd without honour,  he would be just like him.

Could he truly kill a man?

Revenge plagued his every thought.  The sight of his Father standing on the ships deck,  arrows planted deep in skin,  blood soaking the entry wounds.  It was as his world went silent.

It was only him and his Father in his world.  Thorfinn's sobs drowned out any rationality.

Now stood a few feet infront of the man responsible for murdering his Father.  Thorfinn wanted nothing more than to watch him bleed.

" I won't act like a coward!  Now fight me! "

The large sword guided his movements towards Askeladd,  a look of annoyance riddled the older man's face.  His men laughing at the semi-duel.  More one sided than anything.  Some chanting ways of teaching the boy a lesson,  some more brutal than others.

Thorfinn swung forward,  slicing through the air.  The boy firmly planted his feet to the ground,  remaining still.  Observing the man infront of him.

Askeladd rubbed his chin,  scratching his beard in thought.  As if contemplating what to do.

" You fancy yourself a warrior,  do you kid? "

Askeladd questioned,  staring at the ground in ponder.

" Alright,  I accept. "

His hand fell back to his side,  turning his head to lock eyes with Thorfinn.

Scene was laughable.  Thorfinn barely as tall as Askeladd's waist.  The large sword in his hands wobbled,  small hands unsure how long they could hold on for.

Thorfinn charged forward,  yelling as he approached.  Aiming straight for the man.  A simple side step was enough to change the trajectory of the battle —  Askeladd hadn't even unsheathed his weapon.  He stood forever still,  watching as the boy desperately tried to pull the sword from the ground.  Unfruitful as always.

Men laughed at the spectacle,  edging the young boy to get up and try again.   They mocked,  telling the boy Askeladd was no match for him.  Cooing at the boy as if a child misbehaving.

Through grunted huffs,  out of breath from a simple swing.  Thorfinn was struggling to unsheath the blade from the hard ground.

" You're supposed to swing the weapon,  not the other way around. "

A boot digging into his side,  kicking him to the side.  Pained whimpers rolled off his tongue,  eyes glued shut,  expecting another blow.

It was pitiful.  Having been easily downed by one kick.

Wind kicked out of him.  Askeladd stalked closer,  standing mere centimetres from the boy.

" Is that really all you had to give? "

He laughed,  cocking a blonde brow down at the boy,  who in turn,  struggled to regulate his breathing.

The difference in power was palpable.  Not many could fairly defeat Askeladd.

Another swift kick to the boys stomach,  sending him a few feet to the left.  Uncomfortable grunts and unintelligible curse words under his breath.

Thorfinn clutched his stomach,  choking back the bile threatening to rise in his throat.  Amber eyes glared daggers at the blonde.  Malice.  Hatred —  pooled in those eyes of his.

Men laughed,  choking on their mead.  One didn't laugh,  only a light chuckle,  hints of disgust remnant of feeling a bug crawling on your skin.

" Why haven't you died yet,  like your Father? "

Askeladd spat,  eyes full of indifference to the mess of a child on the floor.  Still clutching his stomach in pain.

Thorfinn flinched at the mention of his Father.  Familiar emotion of hate rushing through his veins,  how dare he mention his Father so casually.  A way to bring him down.  A constant reminder of the dishonour Askeladd gave Thors.

The man held no pleasure from beating children,  disrespect needed correcting.  If you let a puppy dominate you,  it would never learn to fear you.

Green eyes glared harshly,  holding no emotion behind them.  Glancing over towards the sword sticking out of the ground,  Askeladd effortlessly unsheathed the sword from the muddy ground.  Holding it high over his head before sticking it back into the ground,  only further.

Thorfinn flinched,  eyes glued shut before bursting back open.  Anger pooling within the amber colour.   The blade itself nearly as long as the boy,  silver gleeming in the sun battering down.

Amber eyes watched the man walk away,  having not had broken a sweat.  It was humiliating.  Men that had encircled as the duel went on quickly dispersed to do other things.

He stayed put.  Clenching his bruised stomach,  sun warm on his skin.  Birds chirping in the nearby forest and as they flew above.  So free,  no obligation.  Freedom.

Meat.  Starved,  unsure.  Thirsty.  Thorfinn stood idly a few feet away from men surrounding the campfire,  iron pan sitting nicely on the white wood.  The smell was intoxicating.  Irresistible.

It smelt heavenly.  Thorfinn couldn't remember the last time he had eaten meat.  Winters had always been a harder time of year,  especially with none of the sheep producing any offspring in summer.

Hunger growled in his stomach,  hand placed lazily over.  Four men happily ate away,  only one noticing the starving boy standing aimlessly.

" Oh,  you're still alive? "

Torgrim choked out,  holding the bone of whatever meat he was munching on.  There was barely any meat left on the bone. It seemed to be lamb,  although Thorfinn could've thought wrong.

The boy looked dead,  glaring at the meat in Torgrim's hand.

" You look like pig shit,

boy, "

" Here,  eat this. "

The man added,  the other three stifling back laughter as they ate.  Amber eyes followed the bone Torgrim had just lazily thrown his way.  Starvation overwhelming rationality.

Steam rose from the bone,  ants already making their way towards the feast.  It was a feast to them.  Not to Thorfinn.

He was tempted.  He really was.  Hungry eyes gazed intensely at the gesture.  Swiftly glancing over to the men,  and back to the bone.

Stomach growling.

" There's no sense in starving yourself,  hm? "

Atli spoke up,  biting down on whatever meat was left on the bone.  They laughed.  The condescending tone tipper Thorfinn over the edge,  snapping out of his disassociated state.

Hearing their laughter,  Thorfinn shook his head violently,  grumbling back insults before sticking his tongue out at them,  running in the opposite direction.

" Whats his problem?  thought we were only being nice. "

Torgrim huffed,  earning earnest nods from the rest of the men,  who happily bit down on juicy meat.

It was soft,  light on its feet.  Easily scared.  Thorfinn stared at the rabbit,  it looking no older than a year.  Hiding behind a small bush,  watching as the animal happily grazed on weeds.

Small hands gripped stray strands of grass beneath them.  Stomach softly growling.  Lunging forward,  the rabbit swiftly running away,  leaving Thorfinn planted into the ground.

A heavy gruff rolled off his tongue,  sitting up onto his knees,  staring at the direction the rabbit ran.  Hunger plagued the young boy,  silently regretting not taking the scraps of meat Torgrim threw at him.

Whether he lived or died,  mattered not to any of the men only a long walk away.  The lack of his presence would've gone unnoticed.

Clenching his fists together,  Thorfinn choked back tears.  Not out of sadness,  but frustration.

The boy quickly found that mushrooms weren't edible,  a bitter taste lingering in his mouth,  even after gulping down river water.  How Björn had managed to swallow down a berserker mushroom without throwing up was beyond him.  Just how long had the man been doing that?

With night settling softly,  Thorfinn stood in the river.  Water barely up to his ankles.  It flowed peacefully,  easily flowing around the boy's feet.  Unmoving,  adaptable.   Soft moonlight gazed through the gaps in the leaves.

The smell of meat still hung in the air,  amber eyes stared unmoving at the pan,  a pile of bones sat inside.  Small bouts of smoke still rising from the wood.

He stumbled forward,  one hand clutching his stomach.  The stench of rotting flesh had started to dissipate over the day,  bodies that hung from the tree pecked at by a murder of crows.

Hesitantly,  a small hand gripped the dry bone,  barely any meat left.  Distant sounds of men snoring as night fell.  Amber eyes gazed heavily at the bone.

Gnawing on the bone was excruciating.  His teeth trying their hardest to bite into whatever meat remained,  though little,  the flavour was enough to satiate his hunger.

Thorfinn felt humiliated.  Having rudely passed on the offer mere hours ago,  not wanting the shame that came with admitting defeat.  He would never fall infront of the men that ripped him from his Father.

Amber eyes teared up,  falling to his knees infront of the campfire that once burned bright.  Scavenging any remaining meat from the bones.

What would his father have thought?  Disappointed that he had fallen so low,  his proud heritage crumbling.

Thorfinn stood tall,  clenching his fists at his side.  Fingernails digging into soft palms,  pain tingling.  Even at the smallest noise,  eyes darted to whatever direction it came from.   

Gazing down at the bone scraps he had gnawed on,  a pit in his stomach.  Not from hunger,  but disappointed.  Disappointed in himself.  Not knowing how to handle the situation he was in.  He longed for the reunion of he and his mother,  his sister.  Thorfinn wondered how heavy the snow had gotten this time of year.

The boy missed the snow.  Southern England wasn't known for its cold winters,  instead littered with heavy rain and storms.

Standing less than a metre away from Thorfinn,  was Askeladd.  Eyes heavy with drowsiness.  The man stood deathly still,  observing the boy.  Askeladd held no definable emotion to the boy,  no pity,  sympathy nor empathy.  Apathy might have been the right word,  a melancholy feeling.  Reminding the man of his youth.

Green eyes widened when locking with the boys' amber eyes.  Eyes you would commonly find on predators,  wolves,  birds of prey.  The colour remnant of old Britannia.  The Danish commonly had light colour eyes,  the common inbreeding was the catalyst for the feature.

Askeladd stared back,  not sure on how the boy would react.  It was no secret that the Troll of Joms' Son despised him.   He was the one to take his Father away from him.  Murder him even after losing their duel.   Though Askeladd held no regrets,  no worries,  to him,  Thors was simply a man.  Like the rest of them.

Thorfinn stared back.  Unmoving,  wanting to stand his ground.  A mix of fear and anger coursed through his veins,  silently wishing he had brought the sword,  which he had left behind,  leaning against a tree.

Askeladd taking a step forward,  Thorfinn flinched at the sudden movement.  Unsure of what the man would do.   The boy's body remembering the beating he had been given hours ago.

It was silent.  Birds no longer chirping,  replaced with the occasional hooting of owls that sat perched on branches.  Woodland creatures settling down,  predators like wolves rose from their dens.  Night wasn't a man's territory,   it belonged to the animals.  Wildlife.

Tension thick,  neither making a move.  Thorfinns'  eyes pooled in hatred.

He ran.  Thorfinn ran towards the forest.  expecting the worst from Askeladd.  The older man hadn't followed,  only staring at the boys back as he ran.  A soft chuckle escaping his mouth.

After all,  if you discipline a puppy,  it would learn.

Thorfinn continued running,  coming across the tree he had dedicated to be his safe space.  It was far enough away from the village that none of the men would go wondering and find him.  It was close enough to the flowing river,  easy to find water.  The only issue,  being food.

A bunch of dried sticks sat just infront of Thorfinn,  him hunched over it.  Clacking two rocks together,  hoping a loose spark would land on the sticks.

Thorfinn wasn't how sure it was effective,  night having fully set in.  Cold nipping at his skin.

It had lit.  A large smile plastered on the boys face.  The warmth from the fire almost making him forget his worries.  Small hands perched close to the flame,  no care if it scorched the palms of his hand.

Day break came faster than expected.  The fire that once flourished,  now only crackling embers.  Leant up against the large oak tree,  clinging to the sheathed blade.  A source of comfort.

Distant sounds of men laughing,  duelling one another out of pure boredom.  It had been nearly a week since raiding the English Village,  resources once plentiful now slowly diminishing.

His stomach growled,  not having anything filling to eat in days.  Thorfinn hugged the blade closer,  heavy eyebags hung under his eyes.   The once bright-eyed look he held,  now replaced with one more tired.

It swam swiftly,  a small fish.  Barely enough to feed even a small predator.  Thorfinn tracked its movements swiftly,  watching it prance around the water.  Lone and unsure.  Drool dribbled from his open mouth,  his seax gripped tightly in his right hand.

Thorfinn lunged towards the fish,  it quickly swam away,  leaving the boy soaked and still starved.   

He was having no luck.  Having not caught anything successfully.  Animals too fast for the small boy,   the clumsy nature,  childlike movements gave him away at moments notice.

It annoyed him.  Being so clumsy.  His features still soft,  eyes still round and bright.  Clutching his seax in his hand,   back hunched as he scowled.  He stared at the tree infont of him.

Why couldn't he kill a simple fish?   His lack of general knowledge of the world.  Why had Father been killed by the likes of Askeladd?

He threw his seax at the tree.  It sunk deep within the wood,   Thorfinn's eyes widened.  How had he done that?  Running towards the tree,  struggling to retrieve the seax from the wood.

He tried again,  and again and again.  Landing a few,  and some bouncing off the wood.  But he was getting better.

A rabbit.  Already limping from a prior injury,  gangrene obvious in the wound.  Thorfinn had spotted it,  the stench of blood that followed it unmistakable.

The boy stuck close to the ground,  hidden behind tall grass.  The sun beating down on the forest,  heavily contrasting the horrendous act about to be committed to such an innocent creature.

The Seax sunk into the supple skin,  the poor creature writhing in pain,  Thorfinn held it down,  digging the seax in deeper.  It stopped struggling.  Just like that.

Thorfinn heaved heavily,  a large smile tugging at his lips.  Holding the rabbit up,  seax still sunk deep into the meat.  Holding it like a trophy.   His first kill.

Roasting it over the fire,  the pelt off to the side.  Although a sloppy job,  it worked for Thorfinn.   The delicious scent of cooked meat hung in the air,  a pleasant change from the usual blood and gore,  rotting flesh and smoke.  The cooked rabbit smelt delicious,  Thorfinn salivating simply at the smell.

The boy sank further into himself,  finding comfort in the solitude that surrounded him.  Clutching both sword and seax close to his chest,  prized possessions.

Thorfinn stared at the rising flame,  the crackling of the rabbit skin.  The small intoxicating.  Not only to him,  but a lone wolf stalking nearby.  Its footsteps light and feather-like.

Its eyes amber.  Resemblant of Thorfinns.  It's fur light as snow,  hints of grey on its underbelly.  It stalked back and forth,  gauging the situation.

Thorfinn only stared,  wide eyed,  mouth slightly hung open.  His heart beating a million miles per second —  nearly beating out of his chest.

It looked young.  No older than a year old yet far more grown than Thorfinn.  It was still growing.  Why was it alone?  Abandoned.  Thorfinn had been told that animals often abandon offspring different to the rest.

Thorfinn stared with intrigue,  the small beast continuing to stalk back and forth before plopping itself down a few feet away from the campfire,  shrouded in darkness.

" Are you...   are you hungry? "

He asked,  knowing the beast couldn't respond.  It looked young.  Unsure of the world,  as if Thorfinn was looking at himself.

Its face round,  still undefined.  Characteristics of childhood.  Thorfinn glanced at the rabbit roasting over the fire,  placing the sword once clutched to his chest to the side.  Small hands sheathed the seax into the pouch attached to his belt.

Was it wise to feed a wild animal?  His Father had told him that no matter predator,  that he should be kind to them.

Amber eyes locked onto the wolf,  the way it patiently sat infront of him.  Drool dribbling from its mouth,  hungry eyes locked onto the rabbit the boy had caught.

Thorfinn held the stick the rabbit had been skewered on,  tearing some of the roasted meat off,  throwing it towards the wolf.  Without wasting a second,  it lunged forward,  scooping the meat off the ground,  scarfing it down.

A smile tugged at Thorfinn's lips,  even through his anxiety in the situation.

" Do you..  like that? "

He asked,  hands shaking,  scared of what might happen.

It was as if Thorfinn was looking into himself.  The hunger that plagued the wolf's eyes,  the same amber colour as his.  Fur as white as snow,  unnaturally standing out in the plethora of greens and browns of the forest.

It was wary,  not getting too close,  but it stayed near throughout the night.  Hunger satiated with the small scraps of rabbit Thorfinn threw towards it.  The fire burned throughout the night,  the boy clinging the sword to his chest before falling asleep.

(cr;  did I want to give Thorfinn a wolf? yes. yes I did.  what are you gonna do about it?)

Sunlight peaked through the leaves,  wildlife rose to day break.  The wolf lay not too far from Thorfinn,  white fur standing out even more during the day.

It intrigued Thorfinn,  such an unnatural fur colour.  No family to call its own.  It hung heavy on his heart.

Thorfinn clutched the sword closer to his chest,  eyes locked onto to the beast sleeping peacefully.  His Father had always told him to be careful around wolves,   deceitful and cunning.

" You didn't..  attack me. "  Thorfinn spoke softly,  eyes locked onto the white tufts of fur.

weeks had passed,   hunger constantly plagued the young boy.  Bordering the line of starvation,  yet surviving on any small animal he could catch,  or any prey the wolf would drop at his feet.

Their relationship was growing,  the white fur only getting brighter as it grew.  Thorfinn stuck to the forest,  occasionally bumping into Björn,  who was collecting mushrooms for his strange addiction.  Anytime they met,  Thorfinn would lunge at the giant of a man —   resulting in him slammed into a tree or clutching his stomach on the ground.

But Björn never continued after knocking him down,  too interested on finding mushrooms.   It confused Thorfinn,  why didn't the man finish him off?   He still blamed Björn for the death of his father,   the man had held his hostage to take his Father off guard.

Practising his knife throwing skills was helping him improve killing small animals and fish,   even simply swiping at a bucket strung up to a tree helped him improve coordination.

Heavy eyebags lingered under his eyes,   once wide eyes now slightly narrower.  Every night,  the wolf would curl up to him for a warmth,  a vast difference from the first night the two met.

The harsh eyes that stared back at him,  the same colour as Thorfinn's.   The eyes of a predator.  But there was a clear difference in the two,  Thorfinn wasn't a predator —  He was prey.

Yet the wolf was in the same situation at him.  No family,  nobody to turn to.  So they sought comfort in one another.

Despite only in two weeks time,  the wolf had grown more than usual for what looked like a two year old.  Thorfinn had begun to call the wolf  'Fenrir'.

From Old Norse mythology,  it read that Fenrir had played a key role in thte events of Ragnarök —   Where he is foretold to assist in setting the World ablaze,  resulting in the collapse of Humanity,  Society and killing the God Odin.

Though the wolf was no Fenrir,  Thorfinn remembered the stories his Father told of Old Norse,  the various Gods they prayed to.  The Valhalla they so desperately wanted to reach after death.

Thorfinn felt oddly connected to Fenrir,   like a piece of Old Norse found its way to him.

Askeladd's band of Vikings carried their goods back onto the ships,  the addition of one was greatly helping the nearly one hundred men balance their loot evenly.

They stood around eachother,  laughing and having conversations like what they had done weeks earlier hadn't completely changed some peoples lives.  Regardless if all the people from the village were dead.

Seagulls flew in the sky,  so free and weightless.   The band on Vikings was near the sea,  it was getting to that time in the year where migratory birds would start moving.

Ear,  one of Askeladd's men particularly cursed with oversized ears,   and an unfortunate looking face —   Stood to the side of Askeladd,  who was sitting down next to Björn.

" Someone's coming. "

Ear spoke up,  hands cupped behind his ears before glancing as at Askeladd,  who in turn scoffed,  though confused since they hadn't left survivors.  Maybe it was the English?

Thorfinn walked up to the band of pirates,  who were still lugging their stuff to the ships.  His clothes were raggedy,  more so than before.  His hand's bruised with cuts and scraps from foraging.

His stance was heavy,  fists clenched at his side.  Thorfinn had long discarded the sword far too big for him,  instead opting to fight with his Father's seax.   Perched on a small hill behind the approaching boy was Fenrir,  its white fur sticking out like a sore thumb against the greens' and browns' of the environment.

Askeladd smirked coyly at the sight of Thorfinn,  Björn had informed him whenever he saw the boy in the forest whenever foraging for mushrooms that he was alive and well,  sure more malnourished than before but still alive nonetheless.

The men stopped in their tracks,  heavy loads slugged over their shoulders.  Thorfinn stopped in his tracks,  a confident look on his face.

" I am the son of Thors,  Thorfinn. "

He spoke clearly,  unsheathing the dagger from the pouch on his belt,  clutching it in his small hand.  Amber eyes locked onto Askeladd,  who hadn't bothered getting up,  sitting lazily with a coy expression on his face.

" In the name of the almighty Odin,  Im challenging you to a duel. "

His voice was calmer than last time,  holding the dagger infront of him.  Small scraps and cuts littered his face,  some healed,  some not.  His time spent alone in the forest had slightly hardened his exterior,  no longer that same little boy two months ago,  yet still had alot of growing to do.

The man laughed at the sight,  intrigued at how confident the boy had become.  Some had noticed the wolf sat afar,  Askeladd cocking a brow up at the beast.

" You found yourself a companion in your lonesome,  hm? "

He cooed,  though expression quickly dropping.  When he had killed Thors,  he hadn't expected to pick up a leech with it.  A child with a murderous vendetta against him.

Björn chuckled beside him,  glancing down at Askeladd to gauge his reaction.

" Gods,  he's relentless. "

He muttered underneath his breath,  earning a hearty chuckle from Björn.  In the span of three weeks,  the child had asked to duel twice,  including this one.  Did he seriously want Askeladd dead that bad?

" Tell you one thing,  the boy has guts. "

Atli laughed,  staring at Thorfinn,  though the boy's gazed only remained on Askeladd,  still holding the dagger infront of his face.

" I wanna see you fight him,  Askeladd! "

Torgrim yelled,  instigating the rest of the men to join in on the taunting.  Though every one of them knew the boy had no chance,  they liked the spirit Thorfinn held deep in his heart.

Askleadd sighed,  eyes remaining on Thorfinn before dropping to the ground.  " You have to do it,  a Chieftain's supposed to live up to his mens expectations. "  Björn butted in,  patting Askeladd on the shoulder in a condescending way,  as if to egg him on.

Askeladd stood up,  his men parting to let him step forward before encircling the two.   They laughed,  not in mockery,  but rather intrigue.  Thorfinn lowered his stance,  planting himself firmly on the ground,  clutching the dagger in his right hand.

The two stood a few meters away from eachother,  one stared with hatred,  one stared with apathy.  Askeladd truly took no pleasure in beating children,  he had done it before sure,  but took no pleasure in it.

Anyone could see that Askeladd was the leader,  his strikingly blonde hair,  the wise look about him.  The uninterested gaze always on his face,  like he was simply fed up with anything.  The blade of his sword rested on his shoulder,  not interested in what Thorfinn was doing.

" I suppose I have no choice,  I,  Askeladd,  Son of Olaf,  accept your challenge in the name of Odin. "

He spoke calmly,  no clear emotion in his voice.  Though laced with annoyance,  the fact that he was wasting his time dueling with a brat was proof that in his old age,  he was getting lenient.

Thorfinn had spouted about honour in their last duel,  when the boy hadn't had the guts to behead him in his sleep.  Proof of his childishness.   Thorfinn breathed heavily,  eyes gazed at Askeladd like daggers.

" Really?  You wanna meet your father again so soon? "

He laughed,  cocking a brow at the boy.  There was a slight smirk tugging at his lips,  almost impressed that the boy had survived so long in the forest.  The malnourishment was obvious on the boy,  not having gotten any taller,  barely above Askeladd's knee,  not to mention how much thinner he had gotten compared to the plump boy a month ago.

Thorfinn gritted his teeth at the mention of his father,  lowering his stance more,  as if ready to attack.  Askeladd,  in return,  held his sword infront of him.  Watching as the boys face contorted with anger,  rushing towards him with unsteady feet,  swiping the dagger left and right with no proper coordination.

Askeladd was unimpressed,  it was as if Thorfinn was lunging at him you'd do a training dummy.  It sickened him.  Annoyed him.  Thorfinn continued the barrage of attacks,  slashing through the air with hopes of landing one.

Though there was improvement from last time,  Askeladd easily dodged the boy,  not even using his sword.  The men around them laughed at the show,  wondering how quickly Askeladd would kill the boy.

Thorfinn stopped to catch his breath,  only for a second before lunging at Askeladd,  who had stopped moving in tandem.  The older man grinned his teeth down at the boy,  not impressed in the slighest with the sloppy swordsmanship.

A swift kick to the stomach is what sent Thorfinn to the ground,  winding the poor boy.  The desperate need for air was evident in his worried breath,   body shaking as he tried to stand up,  not noticing as Askeladd approached.

Another kick to his stomach,  and another and another,  not even giving the boy time to get on his feet.

" Whats the matter,  huh?  Is this seriously all you got? "

Askeladd laughed,  though he found nothing funny of the situation.  Not even pity,  just disgust at the boy for even thinking he could best him.   His boot easily dug itself into Thorfinn's stomach,  green eyes locked onto the struggling boy.

Thorfinn's pained yells,  his expression screamed help.  Hand never once letting go off the dagger.  " Pretty boring ,  kid. "  Askeladd mocked,  glancing around at his men,  some silent,  some who cheered.

It wasn't really a duel.  More like a one sided fight.   One final kick to the boys stomach sent him rolling,  clutching it in pain as he tried to process everything he was feeling.

" On your feet. "  Askeladd commanded,  " Isn't this a duel? "  He questioned,  resting his blade on his shoulder.  Cold eyes stared down at the writhing boy on the ground,  clutching his stomach in pain.  It was pitiful really.

" Thats enough,  don'tcha think? " Björn butted in,  eyes dancing between Askeladd and Thorfinn before locking onto Askeladd.  Even Björn felt somewhat sorry for the boy,  the difference in power was palpable even to most.   " He'll be dead before long. "  He added,  a sigh rolling off his tongue.

Björn watched Askeladd closely,  he never was able to get a read on the man despite being with him for years.  There was no definable emotion on his face,   one could say it was annoyance,  one could say hatred.  But no one could say for sure.

" Heh,  you said to fight him.  You changed your mind? " Askeladd retorted,  a smirk tugging at his lips,  body turning around to face Björn.  " How come?  If I don't teach the boy a lesson,  how's he supposed to learn? "

Thorfinn's eyes shot open,  amber colour resemblant of wolves.  Hard,  heavy,  wild.   He threw the dagger at Askeladd,  aiming right for his face.  The man hadn't been looking at him,  distracted with Björn.  All those times Thorfinn practiced throwing,  paid off.   It sliced through the air like butter,  fast yet predictable.

It was enough to nearly catch Askeladd off guard,  though easily blocking the small blade with his arm.  Eyes widened by half a fraction that normal,  a pitiful attempt really.

It landed further away than the two.  Thorfinn stared up at Askeladd,  brows furrowed,  nose scrunched up,  like when you'd smell something disgusting.  Teeth gritted,  though bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.  Emotions welled up within him,  unsure of how to regulate such harsh ones.

He trembled,  holding his eyes shut as he whimpered.  The pain in his stomach and chest an entirely new emotion.  He had gotten hurt before,  but never so violently.  It felt like he needed to throw up.  Thorfinn was expected Askeladd to attack again,  but he didn't.

" Think I've had enough.  Let's call it there. "  Askeladd spoke.  Thorfinn peeled open his eyes,  staring up at the man from the ground.   He wasn't done.  It couldn't be over.

Thorfinn had a shocked look on his face,  slowly raising himself from the ground.  All these negative emotions he was feeling,  the need to satiate his hatred.  Make Askeladd bleed.   With a raised head,  Thorfinn stared,  unable to get any words out.

" I take no pleasure in murdering children. " Askeladd admitted,  though true,  it wasn't like he couldn't do it.  If push comes to shove,  he'd kill Thorfinn,  the brat already turning out to be more trouble than he thought.

" Come back..  I'm not finished. "

Thorfinn mumbled,  voice cracking.   He stared up at Askeladd with those amber eyes of his.  He hadn't even landed a single hit on the man,  it couldn't be over.

" I don't have time for this. " Askeladd replied,  walking towards the dagger he had deflected mere minutes ago.  What a joke,  a duel lasting little longer than five minutes.   Thorfinn's eyes tracked the man's movements.

" Hey wait!  I haven't lost yet! "  The boy screamed,  raw emotion in his voice.  Tears welled up in his eyes,  unsure of how to regulate the negative emotions rushing throughout his body.   " Fight me,  you coward! "

Askeladd kneeled down,  picking up the small dagger,  his own blade still rested on his shoulder.  " You are persistent,  aren't you? "  Askeladd questioned,  though rhetorical.  There was no clear emotion in his voice.

" This isn't over!  Not until I kill you!  You'll die for what you did! "  Thorfinn continued,   small tears rolling down his cheeks.  Not out of sadness,  but anger.   Only stopping when Askeladd effortlessly threw the dagger towards him,  flinching,  expecting it to pierce his skin.  But it never did,  instead landing right infront of him.

" Prove yourself on the field of battle.  Youre a warrior,  right? "  Askeladd mocked,  watching Thorfinn's face contort back into that soft expression he held in the beginning.  " You do that,  and I'll reward you with a proper duel. "  Askeladd smirked down at the boy,  standing up to his full height.

Thorfinn barely reached the mans knees,  yet so desperately wanted him dead.  That look in his eyes,  ones he carried back on the ship.  Those were eyes of a killer.   Staring at Askeladd,  small streaks of tears that once fell now stopped,  eyes hardening before locking onto the dagger in the ground.  Small hands wrapped around it,  pulling it from the ground.

" I have your word on that? "  He questioned,  voice barely above a whisper yet Askeladd still heard.  He held the seax in both hands,  glaring at the steel that shone in the sunlight.

" Ofcourse,  you can always trust a warriors promise. "  Askeladd huffed,  turning his back to the boy,  sheathing his blade once more.

Thorfinn only stared at the seax,  eyes heavy with intent yet unease.  " I'll prove myself,  and when I do,  I promise,  I will kill you. "  He stood up,  watching Askeladd walk away.  Sheathing the seax back into the pouch on his belt.  His words were heavy,  truthful to himself.  He would be the one to kill Askeladd.

The men watched him before dispersing,   only Björn continued staring,  as if trying to gauge him,   before eventually turning his back too.

From behind Thorfinn,  a high pitched howl erupted from the small hill.  Both Thorfinn and the men startled by the sound,  the boy turned around.  White fur gleemed in the sunlight,  those amber eyes staring back into his.

The bond the two had formed,  a mutual urge to survive.  It ran up to Thorfinn,  it's face wild,  unpredictable,  bearing its fangs at the men who stared.  It sat next to the boy,  as if sharing the hatred.

the rain was heavy on the open seas.  The three ships cruised along with ease,  the pitter patter of the rain almost calming.  Sat in the very corner,  alone,  not wanting interact with any of the men.

Why he had gone along witb Askeladd?  Thorfinn wasn't sure.  His only intentions to cut the man down with honour.

Eyes heavy with drowsiness,  yet couldn't find it in himself to sleep with these men around.  Thunder boomed in the distance,  different shades of grey clouds cluttered in the sky.

The man scratched their heads,  using rain water to flood out any fleas and lice in their hair.   Thorfinn had chosen the boat furthest away from Askeladd,  not that he had any choice in the matter,  it was the boat with the least amount of people.

Perched next to the boy was Fenrir,  white fur now a light grey from the rain.  It looked like a soaked rug not able to hold anymore water.

" Hey kid,  what're you doing sitting in the corner like that? "  Torgrim questioned,  earning the attention of the other men.  None particularly pleased that the boy had to share their boat.  " Come over here. "  Despite the dislike,  Torgrim found not including the boy was worse than ignoring him.

Though no response came from Thorfinn,  only a low grumble came from Fenrir,  earning an uneasy silence from the men.

" Fall off and the sea serpent will eat you! "  Atli joked,  earning laughs from the men around them.  Yet nothing came from Thorfinn.  He was silent,  completely silent.

Thorfinn mulled over the duel with Askeladd.  Proving himself on the batte field?   He should've killed the man in his sleep.

Though nothing came from Thorfinn,  the soaked wolf beside him glared at the men,  yet didn't make a move.  How the boy had managed to befriend such a beast,  was beyond the men.  Such large teeth for such a young wolf,  and an unnatural fur colour.  Loyalty was scarce with the predators,  yet it seemingly impossibly loyal to Thorfinn.

" He's just ignoring me.. "

" No fun at all,  is he? "  The two brothers spoke,  earning laughs from the other men.

It had been atleast a day on sea,  now traversing through an English River,  the scent of blood and war heavy in the air.  He stared out at the river banks,  bodies littering either side.

Various weapons stuck out of rotting corpses,  murders of crows pecked at flesh long since fruitful.  Eyes widening the more they sailed deeper into the river,   it was a bloodbath.   Not one left alive,  Thorfnn could tell some were Danish,  and some weren't.

Men rowed with complaints spewing from their mouths,  rough hands gripping the oars.  Setting foot on land set a wave of nausea over him,  eyes scanning the bodies littering the ground.  Thorfinn watched as Askeladd and his men marched on forward,  a sizeable distance between the two parties.

Crows easily tore apart flesh in small chunks.  The stench of blood was overwhelming,  mouth slightly parted as he tried to steady his breathing.  How could none of them feel sick at the sight?

Thorfinn wobbled through the corpses,  pinching his nose.  The sound of teeth ripping into flesh behind him made him sick,  the wolf having no shame in eating leftovers,  having scared of any crow in the area.

It was disgusting,  the sight of gore and entrails,  how some of the men were missing limbs,  the weapons that protruded out of their bodies —  It was enough to make bile rise in his throat.  The stench of sick not helping with the sickening feeling in his stomach.

He coughed out whatever sick remained in his mouth,  standing to his feet.  Watching as Askeladd and his men went further ahead.  He couldn't lose them.  Not that he ever really could,  with how loud they were.

Thorfinn stopped in his tracks,  eyes glancing over his shoulder.  Unique white catching his eye.  Fenrir,  stood aggressively,  sharp canines tearing into flesh unfit for human consumption.  But not that it mattered to a wolf.

The bond between the two was somewhat unspoken.  Thorfinn knew he couldn't have tamed such a wild beast so easy.  Deep down,  the boy was scared what the beast might do if it got hungry one day.   It was still small,   only around a month,  but still half the height of Thorfinn.

" C'mere boy. "  He whistled,  earning the wolf's attention.  Blood dribbled from its mouth,  chunks of skin still uneaten in its teeth.  It sent a shiver down his spine.  The wolf's white muzzle stained a burgundy red,  it made it look violent.

It was easy setting up a small camp next to the base of a birch tree,  the faraway sounds of laughing and chattering distracting Thorfinn from catching anything.  Sure he had improved,  but was overall still lacking.  Amber eyes raked over the tree line,  the sight of tents and fires catching his attention.  Maybe he could steal something from them when they're asleep,  its something he's done before after all.

Cracking some sort of nut open with a rock was seemingly the only food he'd get for now.  Its contents were earthy,  yet nutritional.

There was a certain unease Thorfinn couldn't shake,  the near silent rustling of leaves on the ground —  Not too far away from Askeladd's camp but far enough away for them to not hear anything.

Arrows pierced through the air,  making Thorfinn flinch,  dropping the nut in his hand.   The sound was sudden,  out of the ordinary.  He knew they were on English soil,  the fertility of the land contrasted the icy wasteland of Iceland.

The men yelled,  arrows pelting down on the troop.   The pans they had set up over campfires knocked over,  scolding hot soup and rolling logs set the grass on fire,  the tents easily setting alight.

Thorfinn could only stare,  hand instinctively itching to clutch the handle of his dagger.  But he didn't move.  The English men rushed towards Askeladd's men,  the screams of battle ringing throughout the forest.

He didn't know what to do.

" Prove yourself on the field of battle. "

Was Askeladd taunting him?  Would he truly reward him with a proper duel?

He ran towards the rising flames,  smoke engulfing the area.  The yells of both Danish and English men,  the Danes easily slaughtering the English.

Thorfinn clutched the dagger in his hands,  amber eyes dancing around the battle grounds.  It was senseless killing.   Men screamed in pain whenever an arrow or sword or spear pierced their skin,  English and Dane alike.

The boy didn't do what to do.  Should he fight?  Or run.

" You there,  Boy–   Are you a Viking? "

The voice was deep,  he didn't recognise the language.  Was it English?  Thorfinn turned around,  clutching his dagger with both hands,  holding it like an inexperienced child.

He was tall.  Thorfinn didn't—  couldn't respond.  Stuttered mumbles rolled off his tongue.  Thorfinn lunged at the man with his dagger,  but was easily shoved to the ground.  With his face stuffed into the ground,  the man shoving it further into the mud.

Even with all his strength,  he couldn't break free.  He could hear the surrounding yells of the men fighting one another,  all while Thorfinn had his face shoved into mud,  making it harder to breathe.  There was an uneasy feeling in his stomach,  the way the man held him down.

" What's a child like you doing on a battlefield? "

The language foreign to Thorfinn,  he could hear the subtle laugh of the man over him.  Getting ready to kill him.  He was scared.  Scared to die.  But it never came,  a sword never pierced his back.

There was a sharp pain in the left side of his back,  it was shallow,  but it pierced the skin near his shoulder blade.  Thorfinn glanced over his shoulder,  the English man gurgled blood,  foaming at the mouth.

It fell onto him.  A lifeless body.  Warm,  sickly blood sticking to his back.  It made him nauseous.  Ignoring the pain in his back,  he rolled the heavy body off of him.  Rolling onto his back,  he stared up at whoever had saved him.

Askeladd.

It was Askeladd.  The man stared at him with distaste,  as if assuming Thorfinn would've been dead by now.  With a scowl tugging at his lips,  Thorfinn managed to wobble to his feet,  eyes locked onto Askeladd as he rushed into another fight.

Why did he save him?

Amber eyes watched the battle continue,  wanting to join in.  But he couldn't find the courage.  The wound on his back stung,   warm blood on his back that wasn't his.  The blood staining the ground,  the stench of gore and entrails hung heavy in the air.

He saw it.  An English man distracted by something,  a wound evident on their arm.  Thorfinn rushed forward,  holding his dagger out infront of him,  ready to stab.

It sunk into skin like butter.  The man screamed,  not a yell,  a scream.  Pain riddled scream.  They stumbled backwards,  landing on the ground with a heavy thud,  their chainmail clunking.

They stared up at Thorfinn,  eyes wide with fear,  unease.  Pain.  He hovered over the mans stomach,  straddling it as he held his dagger higher,  ready to plunge into the mans heart.

The action was easy,  yet heavy.  Like it came with an irreversible feeling that would forever stick with him.   The man screamed,  large hands desperately clawing at Thorfinn's face,  arms and chest.

Blood splattered on him,  his face.  Dagger repeatedly plunging in and out of the mans chest.  Thorfinn didn't—  couldn't stop.  The hands that once clawed at him to stop the vicious attack had long since stopped.

It stained him,  blood stained him.  Yet Thorfinn didn't stop.  Only stopping once he felt he had to,   to prove himself on the field of battle.  He felt disgusted,  eyes locked onto the dead ones of the man he straddled.  Once full of fear now lifeless.

Small hands shook,  yet never letting go of the dagger in his hand.  Tears welled up in his eyes,  not out of sadness,  but disgust.  His entire body shook like a leaf in the wind.

Thorfinn screamed,  just screamed.  Screamed over nothing,  blood staining everything.