A/N: Originally posted 1st of november 2014


The first proper autumn storm has come howling through Kattegat tonight. Men and beasts have sought refuge inside, far from the hungry wolf winds and the great waves crashing against the pier and the safely locked boat houses, throwing themselves hungrily upon the sand, stretching watery tongues out to lick at the smaller fishing boats which have been pulled up and safely tied down for the night.

Inside the great hall a fire is burning. The wind will find every hole in the wall, every opening, making the fire dance and cast twisting shadows on the walls, like nightmares come to life, while men draw their furs tighter around themselves, shivering from their icy touch.

"It is Hræsvelgr," Floki states, matter of factly. "He has slept all through the summer, but now he is finally awake, shaking his wings and crying in hunger. Tonight, it is not Jormungandr the sailor need fear."

Hvitserk escapes the comfort of his mother's arms and the warm fur she's made sure to wrap around him to crawl into Floki's lap.

"But we're safe, right? Hræsvelgr can't get us here, can he, Uncle Floki?"

Floki smiles.

"No, little one. We're safe inside your father's hall, hidden from even Hræsvelgr's sharp eyes," but he's leaning forward, waving the other boys closer, lowering his voice. "But if you wait until the storm is at its fiercest, howling like a wolf pack and shaking the roof like an angry giant, then - then, if you are very careful, you can go just outside the door and look up at the sky and then, if you are very lucky, you might catch a glimpse of him as he passes us by…"

Aslaug sighs.

"You should not tell them such stories, Floki. Now they'll be impossible to put to bed," but her annoyance is mostly for show, as Floki is well aware - it's not as if the boys will allow themselves to be put to bed while every adult in the family is gathered around the fire, talking low among themselves.

"Tell us another story," Hvitserk pleads, having made himself comfortable in Floki's lap.

"Yes, yes." "A scary story." "With a ghost!" "With a draugr!" "Oh, please, Uncle Floki, please tell us another story!"

And Floki laughs and complies, and as the story starts to unfold, the conversation among the adults in the hall falters, until the only sounds in the world are Floki's voice and Hræsvelgr's.