Kiribaku Month 2020

Black Haired Thrall

A/N: I'm gonna be entirely honest, I know nothing about Vikings, which is today's prompt. I literally read through their Wikipedia page until I found something that might work for this story. So if this seems terrible, I'm sorry, and I'll do my best to make tomorrow's better. Anyway, I've rambled enough. On with the shitshow!

Bakugou's POV

"Katsuki, would you go milk the cattle, please?" my father asked me after I ate breakfast.

"Fine," I groaned, leaving my empty bowl. "Where's the hag?"

"Collecting walnut shells for me. And please don't refer to your mother that way,"

"Uh-huh," I scoffed before heading out toward the livestock pens.

While making my way there, I could see that the several Thralls had been out here since daybreak.

Our society is broken into three classes.

There's the Thralls, who are slaves. They do a bunch of basic chores and work. Some of them were kidnapped people from their homes by the warriors. Many people look down on them too.

Sure, they practically live like livestock, but that doesn't mean that they are.

Sometimes they're sold off so we can get silver. Fucking silver!

I'd like to imagine a human being is worth far more than a piece or two of silver!

Y'know, when I was younger, I dreamed of becoming a warrior, but after Toshinori Yagi almost died, and Enji Todoroki took over, I saw the carnage he brought on other people's homes.

The next level up is the Karls, which is where my family and I are. Some own farms, some own cattle, some own both. We own farms and cattle, but that's more work for the Thralls and myself.

I'm the only child my parents had that lived past two weeks.

And I was the first child they had.

After my sixth sibling died, I'd essentially grown numb to the death of those in my family.

It's inevitable, and I know it's going to come someday.

Eventually, the people who we've pillaged and stolen their people from will come to either do the same or kill us all.

I'm just bracing myself for the day it happens.

The third class is the Jarls. They're wealthy politicians, wealthy hunters, and wealthy assholes in general.

Fucking hate them.

Any Thralls they owned would sometimes be killed as a sacrifice if their owner died, and I fucking just...

Words cannot even begin to describe how much I despise Jarls.

Once I arrived at the pens with the cattle, I grabbed the bucket I needed, and hopped the fence.

"Alright, c'mere," I said, heading over to the corner and pulling the stool out.

One of the cattle, the sweetest one came over.

I call her Freyja. She's almost entirely a chestnut color, the only splotch of white being on her stomach, right above her udder.

Placing the bucket down, I lightly stroked her side, scooting a bit closer.

"Sorry if this hurts, Freyja," I mumbled, about to start.

Then I heard a loud thud against the other side of the fence.

I stood, and saw a boy around my age, with his long dark hair in a braid while covered in scars.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, walking over to the boy.