He lives in daydreams with me.
Harry Styles daydreams that I turned into one shots & short stories.
-coarse language, sexual content. 18+.
I DO NOT CONDONE TRANSLATIONS OR PDF PRINTING OF MY WORK.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Hi, beans!! Welcome to something I Daydream about often... The Viking Age. I love anything to do with the Earth around this time. It just fascinates me so much and I had the best time with writing a dirty Vikingr.
Just a PSA: This Daydream contains themes of religious beliefs that do not mirror my own, however, I respect and appreciate learning about different religions in any way I can. They were prominent factors of life back then so I deemed them important to add and equally as amazing to learn more about. I mean no offense and did as much research as I could so not to offend and so that this reading is more immersive and perhaps even educational for you as well! Of course, I'm no specialist in any of these beliefs nor am I versed in Old Nordic culture aside from my fascination and appreciation of it through books, documentaries, shows, and a lot of research. Descriptions of traits are based on how they were perceived, and not my beliefs. Just wanted to preface that before you read!
Also—very hard to translate into Old Norse. I opted for a few Icelandic translations, which is the closest to Old Norse. I'll post the translations in the comments. Thank you to haircliprry11 for the translations and guidance with this story! You mean the world to me. Kisses!
SEXUAL CONTENT: Rough sex, breeding kink, choking, knife play (drawing of blood), masochism, virgin MC, consensual non-consent—again, please read with caution.
Word count: 26k
(Longest Daydream yet! I need more hobbies. Expect a million typos because my brain is mush)
Skäl!
***
Mercia, 798 AD.
Screams. Utter terror ripped from the throats of those in her village. Pleading, begging, crying for mercy. Mercy many knew would not be given.
The putrid smell of burning flesh and timber invaded her senses, her vision clouded as she rushed between two burning houses. She could hear the desperate cries of those inside, but she knew she couldn't help them.
Don't look back. Stop for no one. Head to Wessex, there is a large monastery there that will take you in. Stay away from the rivers, where the Danes roam the currents in their longboats.
Her father's warnings rang in her head, clear as a bell. As clear as the alarm bell that had rung moments before they attacked. She spied a man trying to flee, not even bothering to stay behind and fight before he was taken down by an arrow.
