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

Thorfinn felt the icy grip of the ocean pulling him relentlessly down into its depths. He kicked and thrashed, desperate to reach the surface, but his movements seemed futile against the overpowering current. The more he struggled, the further he sank. His lungs screamed for air as the cold water numbed his limbs, making each stroke more laborious than the last. His vision blurred, the dim light from above fading into an impenetrable darkness. Panic surged through him, and he opened his mouth in a desperate gasp, only to have the frigid water rush in, filling his lungs. He could feel the crushing pressure building in his chest, and the burning need to breathe became unbearable.

As he was pulled deeper into the abyss, the last remnants of light disappeared, leaving him in complete darkness. Suddenly, a strange glow began to appear below him. At first, he thought it might be the faint light of the moon piercing the depths, but the light grew stronger, more intense, bathing the water in an eerie, greenish glow. Thorfinn's eyes widened in horror as he realized it wasn't a light at all, but a massive, glowing eye. The eye of a colossal serpent, staring right at him. The sheer size of the creature was beyond comprehension, its gaze sending a jolt of primal fear through his heart. His body convulsed as he tried to scream, but no sound came out. The darkness engulfed him, and everything went black.

Thorfinn sputtered and coughed as he woke up, his body heaving and retching. He felt the burning sting of saltwater in his throat and lungs as he rolled over, vomiting up what felt like gallons of seawater. His chest ached with each cough, his lungs still struggling to draw in breath. Every muscle in his body screamed with pain from the effort of fighting against the sea. He lay there for a moment, gasping for air, his vision slowly clearing. The coarse, black sand of the beach clung to his wet skin, and the cold air bit at his exposed flesh. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filled his ears, and the salty tang of the sea lingered in the air. The sky above was a dull, overcast grey, heavy with clouds that promised more rain.

Shivering uncontrollably, Thorfinn tried to move but found his limbs heavy and uncooperative. His body was exhausted, his muscles weak. He could feel the lingering effects of near-drowning, his chest tight and his throat raw. His head throbbed with a dull ache, likely from the impact when the boat capsized.

He forced himself to focus, to take in his surroundings. The beach stretched out in both directions, with jagged rocks jutting out into the sea. A dense forest loomed in the distance, the trees dark and foreboding. He had no idea where he was, the black sand that stretched across the coast was strange it was as if he was in a different world.

Thorfinn's body was wracked with uncontrollable shivers, his teeth chattering violently as the cold seeped into his bones. His skin was pale and clammy, the wet clothes clinging to him only serving to amplify the chill. Every breath he took was a struggle, a harsh rasping sound escaping his lips as he fought to keep moving. With a grunt of effort, he rolled onto his stomach, feeling the gritty texture of the black sand against his face. The coarse grains scraped his skin as he pressed his palms into the ground, trying to push himself up.

Slowly, inch by inch, Thorfinn began to drag himself across the beach. His fingers clawed at the sand, pulling his body forward in a desperate attempt to reach the treeline. Each movement was agonizingly slow, his limbs feeling like lead as he forced them to obey. The icy wind whipped around him, stinging his exposed skin and causing his shivering to intensify.

The cold was too much for Thorfinn. His muscles cramped and stiffened, refusing to obey any longer. He collapsed again, his face pressing into the cold sand. His entire body shook violently, the uncontrollable shivering leaving him gasping for air. He rolled onto his back, feeling the icy grains against his wet clothes, and stared up at the dark, cloud-covered sky. The fight was leaving him, and he was close to accepting his death.

As his vision began to blur and his eyes started to close, he saw a pair of boots step into his line of sight. He blinked slowly, trying to focus. A tall, muscular man with shoulder-length blonde hair stood over him, his expression stern and unimpressed.

"You're a damn fool," the man said, his voice deep and commanding.

Thorfinn tried to respond, but his lips were too numb to form words. The man bent down and lifted Thorfinn with ease, his strong arms lifting him securely. The warmth from the man's body was a stark contrast to the cold that had gripped Thorfinn, but before he could comprehend what was happening, his consciousness faded. The last thing he felt was the man's solid grip and the slight warmth it provided before everything went black.

...

Thorfinn groaned softly as he came to, the warmth of a campfire nearby chasing away the last remnants of the cold. He was lying on a rough bed of furs, the flickering light casting dancing shadows on the cave walls. His eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings. A man sat on a log near the fire, Thorfinn's sword in his hands, examining it with a contemplative look.

Thorfinn tensed, testing his muscles. They no longer felt numb, but a lingering weakness reminded him of his ordeal. He weighed his options, thinking he might have the strength to rush the man.

Just as Thorfinn was about to spring, the man sighed heavily and stabbed Thorfinn's sword into the ground beside him. "I save you from death, and the first thing you think to do is attack me?" he said without looking up.

Realizing he had been caught, Thorfinn stopped pretending to be asleep and sat up. He eyed the man warily, muscles still coiled with tension.

The man looked at him and a smile spread across his face. "You really do look like him," he said, shaking his head. "No wonder she's crazy about you."

Thorfinn's voice was raspy as he managed to ask, "Who are you?"

The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully before replying, "I'm a farmer."

Thorfinn laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, his throat raw. "That's horseshit," he said, his voice cracking.

The man smiled. "Perhaps, but I am a farmer at heart."

Standing up, the man shook his head and called Thorfinn a fool. "Sailing into the Leviathan's waters. What were you thinking?" he laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed in the cave.

Thorfinn scowled, leaning against the cave wall for support. "I had no choice."

"A man always has a choice," the man replied. "That is one of the greatest gifts granted by the gods."

"My choice will always be my love," Thorfinn said as he tried to stand, pushing himself along the wall. He noticed his clothing had been replaced with a fine linen tunic and good-quality hosur. "Where are my clothes?" he asked.

"Mostly ice now," the man said with a chuckle. "I threw them into the sea."

"Why did you save me?" Thorfinn asked, finally getting to the crux of the issue.

The man looked at Thorfinn with an amused glint in his eye. "Ah, why indeed? Perhaps I saw a kindred spirit lost at sea, or maybe it was the will of the gods, nudging me to pluck you from the depths."

Thorfinn frowned, not satisfied with the answer. "That's not an answer."

The man's smile widened, clearly enjoying the game. "Well, I do have a penchant for rescuing wayward sailors who have a knack for getting into trouble. Keeps life interesting, you know?"

"Stop dodging the question," Thorfinn demanded, his frustration growing.

The man's expression turned serious, though his eyes still sparkled with intelligence. "Let's just say I have a certain... interest in seeing you succeed. Call it a family obligation or a favour to an old friend. The reasons are many and none at all."

Thorfinn leaned back against the wall, exhausted. "I don't understand you," he admitted.

"You don't need to," the man replied. "Not yet, anyway. All you need to know is that you're alive, and you have another chance to complete your task. The rest will come in time."

Thorfinn sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get a clearer answer. "Fine. But if you're not a farmer, then what are you?"

The man chuckled softly. "Let's just say I'm a friend. And sometimes, that's enough."

Thorfinn exhaled deeply, accepting the man's vague answers for now. "What condition is my boat in?" he asked, trying to focus on practical matters.

The man looked at him before bursting into laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. Thorfinn felt his anger rising at the mockery. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"You're serious?" the man asked, wiping a tear from his eye. "That piece of shit is gone forever."

Thorfinn's anger boiled over, and he punched the cavern wall, ignoring the pain that shot through his knuckles. "This is not a joke! I needed that ship. Without it, I won't be able to kill that beast."

The man's laughter subsided, replaced by a sombre expression. "Even with the ship, you'd never kill the Leviathan," he said. "The creature is from the old world, birthed before man had even dreamed of the boat."

"You should go home, Thorfinn," he continued. "The path you take leads to death."

Thorfinn frowned, his mind racing with questions about the man's identity and how he knew his name. But he pushed them aside. "If the gods will it, then I will survive. But I won't give up. Call me a fool if you want, but this is my choice. I thank you for saving me, but I believe it's time we part ways."

Thorfinn walked past the man and out into the sunlight. The bright light momentarily blinded him, and he squinted as he took in the rugged landscape around him.

The man stepped out next to Thorfinn, his presence a shadow against the stark landscape. "How do you plan to kill the Leviathan without a ship?" he asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"I'll build one," Thorfinn replied stubbornly, determination etched into his features. The man sighed deeply, watching the young warrior walk away with a resolve that bordered on madness. He looked up at the sky, shaking his head as if seeing someone or something unseen. With a resigned expression, he strode after Thorfinn and grabbed him by the shoulder. The grip was unexpectedly strong, almost crushing, and Thorfinn stopped in his tracks, feeling the power behind the man's hand.

"Listen to me," the man said, his voice low and intense. "You don't understand what you're up against. The Leviathan is not just some beast. It's a horror born from the depths of the old world, a creature of nightmare. Its body is so vast it blocks out the sun, and its eyes glow with a malevolent light that chills your very soul. It doesn't just kill its prey, it plays with them, making them suffer before devouring them."

Thorfinn felt his heart start to race, his skin prickling with a cold sweat as the man continued.

"The Leviathan's mouth is lined with rows of teeth, each one capable of tearing through the strongest armour. It drags ships down into the depths, where the pressure alone would crush you to death. The screams of the drowned echo through the water, their bodies torn apart by the creature's jaws. It's a monster that revels in agony, enjoying the suffering it inflicts. It wraps its victims in its coils, squeezing the life out of them slowly, listening to their bones crack and their breath rattle out in agony. And those who try to escape its grasp? They find themselves hunted relentlessly, every movement drawing it closer, every heartbeat a signal to its insatiable hunger."

Thorfinn's breath quickened, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. His eyes darted to the man's face, seeing the grim seriousness in his gaze.

"You need to understand the real danger," the man continued, his grip tightening. "This is not a foe you can simply outfight or outthink. It is a terror that has ended countless lives. You need more than just courage and a ship; you need the gods themselves to favour you. Think carefully about what you're about to face. This isn't a battle. It's a death sentence." Thorfinn swallowed hard, the weight of the man's words sinking in. He had never felt such a deep, gnawing fear before.

Thorfinn summoned the strength to knock the man's hand away. "I am not a coward. I am a warrior. I'd rather die in a song than live as a nobody."

The man looked at him, shaking his head. "You're mad," he simply said. "But if you insist, then I will allow you to use my ship."

Thorfinn's eyes widened in surprise. "You have a ship? Why didn't you tell me?"

The man chuckled. "Because it's probably going to end up in the Leviathan's stomach."

"I'll survive. No creature is invincible," Thorfinn replied, determination in his voice.

The man studied him for a moment before smiling. "I'm a fool for family," he said. Before Thorfinn could ask what he meant, the man grabbed his hand. A bright light flashed before Thorfinn's eyes, and it felt like molten metal poured into his mind. Flashes of images and knowledge flooded his brain. When it stopped, the man was gone. In front of him lay two swords—his own and one unfamiliar—and a miniature boat with a note in it.

Thorfinn picked up the note.

*

I'm sure you know what to do with the boat; it's yours. But try to look after the sword—my wife will kill me when she sees it missing. Also, keep the ship a secret; I don't want to be responsible for you being murdered in your sleep.

From a simple farmer.

*

He was right; Thorfinn knew exactly what this small ship in his hand was, but he scarcely could believe it. Skiðblaðnir, a ship that could be folded up and put in a bag. If this was the same ship, then it would mean that Thorfinn was visited by Freyr. Thorfinn fell to his knees, whispering a prayer in Old Norse, asking for forgiveness for his disrespect and expressing his gratitude for the gifts. Not only had Freyr given him a ship and a weapon, but he had also bestowed upon him knowledge, knowledge of sailing.

Thorfinn's head throbbed with pain as new concepts and knowledge began to engrave themselves in his mind. He learned to navigate using the stars, to stay on course using the ocean currents, and he saw ship designs he had never even conceived of before. This was a true gift. Thorfinn knew he needed to make a grand sacrifice to thank Freyr, and he had a plan for where to find such a sacrifice.

Holding the miniature boat in his hand, he marvelled at its intricate design. Skiðblaðnir, is known to be the finest ship ever crafted, capable of sailing over both land and sea. Thorfinn placed it carefully into his pouch. He picked up the unfamiliar sword, noticing its craftsmanship, clearly of divine origin. The blade was etched with runes that seemed to hum with power. Freyr was said to have a sword that could fight alongside him with no wielder, this sword was said to be gifted to his wife. 'Could it be the same sword?'

Thorfinn rose to his feet, the knowledge that this quest was blessed by Freyr renewing his vigour and chasing away the fear that had invaded his heart. Taking the gifts, he headed to the beach, leaving footprints across the black sand. He started rolling his muscles to bring life back into them, then began running across the sand, getting faster and faster. Reaching into the pouch on his belt, he threw out the small boat and shouted, "Vaxa!" (Grow).

The small boat began to shift and expand, transforming into a larger vessel. The boat's dual hulls were sleek and curved, connected by wooden beams. Intricate carvings decorated the sides, depicting waves and sea creatures. The sails were wide and bright, catching the wind immediately. The prow featured a carved hawk, wings outstretched as if ready to take flight. The deck was spacious, with ropes and nets coiled and ready for use. One of this ship's abilities was to take the form of any ship the owner wished; according to the information that Freyr had given to him this ship's design came from people so far away that you'd be sailing for years before you could find them.

Thorfinn jumped on, grabbing a rope and standing on the edge of the ship as it crashed into the water. Skiðblaðnir would always have the wind; it was said to be the fastest ship among any, and it was already proving its worth as it sliced through the water. The ship glided effortlessly, its twin hulls cutting through the waves. Thorfinn marvelled at the craftsmanship, noting the wooden beams' flexibility and strength, which absorbed the ocean's energy and propelled the ship forward. The mast stood tall, its base reinforced, holding the sails steady as they filled with wind.

Breaking into the open ocean, Thorfinn explored the ship. He found storage compartments filled with provisions, including dried fish, bread, and barrels of fresh water. There were also finely crafted harpoons, each made of iron and engraved with runes dedicated to Thor. The harpoons were sturdy, with sharp tips designed to pierce the toughest of hides.

Thorfinn leaned down, placing his hand in the water and feeling the ocean swells. He knew a monster as big as the Leviathan would be large enough to disrupt them; he'd just need to wait for it. As the ship sailed further north, the waves grew larger, their peaks capped with frothy white foam.

He thought about his mission, the Leviathan, and Mikael. Thorfinn would kill the Leviathan and drag its heart back to Kattegat to present it to Mikael. If the man tried anything else, then Thorfinn would kill him.

'Though from the way things look, I'll be killing him regardless.'

(AN: So this chapter is a little fillery but tbh not really he's getting the stuff he needs for the fight. It may seem a little underwhelming but in all honesty I can't imagine the reaction being too extreme considering the situation. Thorfinn already knew the gods existed (believed) and he knew they blessed and sometimes walked amongst them. If Freyr had have stuck around them perhaps things would be different. But yeah anyway the leviathan fight is next I was considering doing it in this chapter but I don't want a short fight I want a long one. Like a proper god of war boss battle. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)

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