Fighting, Honour and Valhalla || Vikings x The Originals x TVD

Viking and The Witcher: Year 1

The wind pushed hard against Thorfinn and Arwyn, carrying snow that cut at their skin and obscured the path ahead. The blizzard raged, its roar drowning out almost every sound. Snow reached up to their thighs, forcing each step to be a battle. Thorfinn pressed forward, his shoulders hunched against the cold, with Arwyn close behind him. Both wore thick layers of clothing, yet the biting cold seeped through every seam. Thorfinn's hands were numb, and his breath came in short, visible bursts. Even Arwyn, who ran hot from her werewolf nature, was shivering. Her steps faltered, and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself as they pushed through the endless white.

They had to make it across the mountain range. Turning back wasn't an option. The supplies they carried wouldn't last long if they stopped. Their guide, Geralt, had sent them ahead to track their quarry, but now it seemed foolish to think they could make any progress in weather like this.

The past six months had been brutal. Thorfinn thought back to the training Geralt had put them through. What he once considered grueling under Elijah's guidance now felt like child's play in comparison. Geralt had no patience for weakness, no tolerance for failure. The man seemed more like a force of nature than a teacher. Thorfinn shouted over the howling wind. "Do you have his scent?"

Arwyn shook her head, her movements sluggish. "The wind's blowing at our backs! I can't track him!" she shouted back.

Thorfinn cursed under his breath and pushed forward, each step heavier than the last. His legs burned, and the stiffening cold in his joints made every movement harder. The snow swirled thick around them, erasing any trace of their path as quickly as it was made. He scanned the landscape, searching for any sign—a trail, broken branches, anything that might give them direction. The blizzard was relentless, wiping away all clues. The faint outlines of the mountains around them were barely visible through the dense wall of white. Despite learning more advanced tracking techniques from Geralt he still found himself coming up with nothing.

Thorfinn knew one thing—they couldn't stop now. "We can't stop!" he called back, his voice rough from the cold. "If we stop, we die!"

Arwyn didn't answer. She trudged behind him, her breaths heavy and visible in the freezing air. Snow clung to her hair and lashes, her eyes narrowed against the storm. She kept moving, though her steps were slower.

Thorfinn and Arwyn had joined Geralt on many hunts over the past six months. The Witcher's work often took them through villages and towns plagued by creatures most would consider nothing more than stories. It surprised Thorfinn how many monsters seemed to roam the mainland. Creatures that were only whispered about in Kattegat were commonplace in the lands of France and beyond. Kattegat, for all its dangers, had seemed almost untouched by such unnatural horrors—at least until now.

This hunt was different. It was their first without Geralt leading them. He had said they'd learned the basics of monster hunting but still had a long way to go. According to Geralt, hunting creatures was more than wielding a sword. It required knowledge, preparation, and patience. He'd taught them to study their enemy—its habits, where it slept, what it ate. Knowing your prey was just as important as fighting it. Geralt's meticulousness had sometimes seemed excessive, especially for creatures he could dispatch with ease. But now, trudging through this blizzard, Thorfinn understood. The preparation wasn't overkill—it was survival.

Their quarry this time was one of the Great Snow Apes, known to the locals as the Yeti. The creature walked upright like a man, its body massive and covered in thick white fur. It stood nearly eight feet tall, its strength unmatched. But the most dangerous thing about the Yeti wasn't its size or power—it was its intelligence. Geralt had warned them to avoid being detected. If the Yeti realized it was being hunted, it would turn the tables and become the predator.