AN: Hello fellow readers. Before you read i need to inform you all that this story is not of my authory, but rather of Scorpion6955, a friend of mine. I am hosting this story because he's having trouble with uploading new stories with his account. All OCs and plots are credited to him. Forbidden Family is a sequel to Forbidden Frienship, which you can find in his profile.
Enjoy!
Sword and mace clashed together. Hofferson and Jorgenson, battled till the last man standing, with the whole tribe watching their every move, every mistake, every shame.
"Come on, Hofferson, is that the best you've got?" The brutish boy, with brown eyes and thick, musky, filthy dark brown hair, who had inherited everything from his thor-damned father, Snotlout Jorgenson.
The audience cheered as he said that.
A young teenager, 14 years old, was kneeling on one knee, wiping any blood leaking from his nose, and doing his best to avoid his black eye's stinging.
Gods had he shamed them. His family. His tribe that he represented. His mother…
He looked up at her. The blonde woman, was standing in the midst of the audience, beside his older siblings. Her expression was unreadable, but her burning gaze on him was imminent.
"Come on, little bro!" The sound of the Chief of the Berserkers screaming his lungs out, rang his ears to insanity. Boy, how would that guy be disappointed?
Just when he was about to give up, and topple over… accept the shame of defeat and acknowledge his humble reward of being the loser… a shadowy, bold, strict voice spoke to him…
"No! Don't you dare give in! Show this sod that you are more capable than he is! Show this… Jorgenson that you are more capable than he will ever be."
The voice was strange. It wasn't like a cheering from one of the spectators, it was like it was inside his own head. Penetrating his brain. Piercing his mind. Forbidding any other thoughts to enter.
"What, are you gonna be the first Hofferson to lose to a Jorgenson?" The boy knew his opponent was just trying to bait him, but it gave him a new sense of confidence.
He wanted so badly to say 'yes', but the voice shouted inside his head again. "Kid, trust me… close your eyes… and do what your instinct tells you… it's in your blood after all."
What did he have to lose? How much worse could it get? He had a bleeding nose, a black eye and possibly a broken rib.
"Come on, little bro!" He heard his sister yelling from the stands.
"Do it!" The voice commanded once again.
He squeezed the blue-grey orbs shut and tightened his fist and swung at full blast at the Jorgenson's face, leaving his mark on it.
The crowd suddenly became obediently silent. He wanted to open his eyes but-…
"No! Don't! Just finish him off!"
"He's a menace."
"Think of how he'll be humiliated when he is to be beaten by a sightless boy!"
So the Young Outcast Chief picked up his sword and hit his opponent with all his strength. Kicking, punching, slashing his sword and screaming. The 14 year old managed to finally tackle his opponent to the ground.
"Say it, Jorgenson! Say it!" The raven haired boy screamed his lungs out, spittle flying everywhere. Yet his eyes were still closed and he was blinded to what he had done and he had just become.
A groan was all that come from the 16 year old.
Two arms grabbed the Outcast Chief's arms and pulled him off the Jorgenson, because Spitlout Jorgenson's clothes were soaked in blood…