Countryhumans One-shots!

Viking!Sweden x Viking!Reader || Protect you

Firm hands, to hold the bow

Quiet breath, to be invisible 

Watchful eyes, to seek the prey 

Steady feet, to chase it 

Withdrawn heart, to end it

The forest was silent. Stripes of grey and black scarred the birches, painting them with the colors of Winter. Strong shafts stood high, embracing each other with their leaves, shielding the flightless creatures from the unkind wind. It shifted, running through the spaces between the leaves and making them shiver, their green surface now coated in a delicate veil of frost. The birds of prey chanted omens of Good Hunt, cawing and screeching as their voices echoed within the forest. It was always hard not to get distracted, yet it would take a split second to lose sight of your prey and you'd have to spend hours upon hours looking for it in the maze of trees. Most of the time it was wiser to head home empty-handed, for you'd succumb to the piercing cold or to the wild beasts otherwise. The ground was uneven, muddy and studded with sharp rocks. Although rocks were small, rare and often harmless - to those who were careful enough to avoid them; particularly unlucky hunters could step on them by accident. It was never pleasant. The thick leather boots still weren't resistant enough to prevent them from stabbing through your foot. A sheet of thin grass blades hid the rocks from sight - it always seemed so soft and welcoming, always so bright and beaded by tiny drops of dew, yet it would take nothing to trip over the blades and mud and knock your head against the hard ground. 

However beautiful, nature would always defend itself from careless adventurers whose only desire was to rob it of its treasures, kill its children and burn its guardians.

Reinn's breath itched, his minute fingers pecked by the sharp, freezing air as his digits tentatively held the arrow. The bow trembled as he pointed the weapon at a peaceful deer. The animal couldn't spot him, for Reinn hid behind the thick shaft of a birch tree. Smell of wet leaves and mud filled his nostrils as he took a deep breath, quivering. A herrier cried out as it flew across the winter sky, and Reinn had to restrain himself from looking up. He had to keep his gaze focused on the deer, on his prey. It wasn't easy. It's never easy for boys his age; a deep curiosity towards the world and its mysteries still blazed fiercely inside of him, his young soul was hungry for adventure and knowledge, his vivid eyes eager to discover new creatures and paths, longing for the destiny that awaited him. 

Yet, he was committed to his duty. He would hunt this deer, and make his Father proud. 

Father would never miss a shot. He always came home bringing a deer or a moose as he gripped its horns harshly, knuckles white and muscles tensed as he tossed the carcass on the wooden tiles. His cold eyes would search for Mother, drops of crimson gushing out of his fresh wounds - he once came home with his waistcoat all covered in blood, a hand pressed against a deep cut on his chest and his breath itching. Even then, he didn't bend before the bites of pain. He stood tall, proud, silent like the strongest of oaks, and urged his wife to come aid him. Reinn remembers how his Father hardly looked at him, only a sparkle of gold was flung towards his only son. The boy never knew whether that look was meant to tranquilize him, or to make him feel useless, like always. 

I've just killed a bear, son. I proved my honor to you for the umpteenth time, yet have you ever proved your honor to me?

The leaves brushed his rosy cheeks, now puffed due to tension, and veiled his vision for a split second - He angrily grasped the loose branch and pulled it, snapping it off the tree and hurling it on the ground. The mud and ice made the fall soft, enough for the deer not to notice it; but the boy accidentally let the arrow fall too. Its iron head clashed against the ice, shattering it and screaming out with a metallic shriek. The deer flapped its ears and stopped ruminating. Its long neck rose and it pointed its dark eyes at the boy, who was muttering curses between his lips and trying to grab the arrow from the ground. In a clumsy attempt to bend down, he let the bow fall too.