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

We are Fated

Rebekah sat on the wooden bench near the hearth, her hands folded in her lap while she watched the tall dark-skinned man settle into the chair opposite her. She rubbed her hands together in an attempt to fend away the chill from outside, but also in an attempt to still the anxiety she felt as she waited for answers about Thorfinn. The dark skinned man had accepted their offer of hospitality without hesitation, and now he sat with his long legs stretched out, a wooden cup of ale in one massive hand and a piece of flatbread in the other. He ate and laughed as he talked, treating their home like he had lived there for years.

He had already told them three separate tales since he arrived, each one more unbelievable and more colorful than the last. Stories of deserts that stretched forever, of rivers wider than any fjord, of cities built from white stone that glittered under a sun so fierce it could burn skin black in a single day. He spoke of fate the way other men spoke of Odin or Thor, as though it walked beside him and whispered in his ear. He called himself The Nubian, and when Freydis had asked why he had no proper name he had laughed and said that he did have a name, but Names have power tied to the world around them and that his people believed in keeping their names to their hearts.

Freydis sat cross-legged on the rush mat at his feet, her white hair spilling over her shoulders as she fixed her gaze on him. Gyda perched on the edge of the bench beside Rebekah, her own fair hair braided tightly, her fingers twisting in her skirt. She had not spoken much since the Nubian arrived, but her gaze never left his face whenever he mentioned Thorfinn.

"How tall is Papa now?" Freydis asked suddenly. "Is he taller than you?"

The Nubian grinned, showing bright teeth against his dark skin. "Taller than me? No, little snow-hair. But he stands like a mountain all the same. Broad across the shoulders, arms thick as old trees. When he walks into a room men step aside without knowing why."

Gyda leaned forward. "Does he still carry that sword with the runes? The one that he used to slay the Draugr?"

The Nubian nodded. "He does. Refuses to replace it. Says it was blessed by one of your gods and that it has protected him through many battles. He trains with it daily still, and quite a few times I've seen him skin larger prey with it like Crocodiles and such."

Freydis giggled. "Crocodiles? What are they?"

"Large beasts bigger than any wolf you have ever seen," The Nubian said, spreading his arms wide. "Teeth like daggers, tails that can snap a man in half. Thorfinn wrestled one once. Held its jaws shut with his bare hands until he snapped its neck."

Gyda's eyes shone. "Did he really? Or are you making that up?"

The Nubian placed a hand over his heart. "On my honor, fair one. I saw it with my own eyes. The beast was longer than this house, and he pinned it down like it was nothing, of course that was only after I taught him how to do so..."

Rebekah listened quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips, but her thoughts kept drifting. She waited until the Nubian paused to take another swallow of ale, then spoke. "What of Dahlia and Morgyn?" she asked. "Has Thorfinn found them yet?"

The Nubian stopped mid-motion. The easy smile faded from his face. For the first time since he had stepped through their door he looked serious, almost solemn. He set the cup down carefully on the table between them. "These are not my things to say," he told her gently. "Thorfinn will tell you everything when he arrives. Every word, every truth. It is his story to give you, not mine."

Rebekah's hands tightened in her lap. Lagertha reached over and closed her fingers around Rebekah's, giving a small squeeze.

"When will he arrive?" Lagertha asked calmly.