The viking chief of Berk stood upon the cliff overlooking the sea. The cape of fur on his back flowed in the wind that blew against him. It was his father's cape. Now, he wore it as a symbol of his nobility in the tribe, and of the chief that once sacrificed himself for his son. His green eyes of forests watched the armada of ships sailing towards the island at a reasonable amount of speed. After 20 years of being chief, this was the first real invasion of another tribe he had to face and fight. If what had happened in the past not happened and he were forty years of age, he would've gladly flown into battle to fight and win. But much has changed. He was still only 20 years old. Immortality had become of him. And now, he had something that he so wished wouldn't have to see such terror. Something that was so precious to him that he preyed to Odin for no battles to ever become in his rein. No such thing could ever happen.
In the arms of the chief stood a winter spirit. He was what the chief so desperately wanted to protect from war. His pure white hair fluttered lightly in the wind, and the chief's cape almost wrapped around him as the arms were. Pale blue eyes did not look upon the sea, they stared down at the ground in nothing short of fear. He knew what was coming, and tried to fall deeper into the arms of the chief. Frost had appeared beneath his bare feet and turned the ground white. He was after all, prone to losing control when fear seeped into his heart. The chief could only whisper words of comfort to the immortal 18 year old he held. The winter spirit leaned his head on the chief's chest and finally looked out to the sea. Immortality meant to live forever, not to never die.
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Misty Mountains Cold
FanfictionThe vikings stood circled around the great fire burning in the center of the hall, but there was a break in it. Where the chief should have been standing. Instead, he stood a little distance away, back turned to them staring into the flames of a tor...
