Aziraphale huffed in annoyance as the Northern Raider slowly approached him. This was just not his day. First, the paint for writing down scriptures ran out, then one of the goats got loose, and now this. If he were a lesser creature, like a human perhaps, he'd perhaps say he hated the Northern Raiders. But no, he was an angel, and angels didn't hate. This was just a mild annoyance on an already annoying day.
The Raider roughly grabbed Aziraphale's arm and hauled him up from the sand, bound his hands, and began marching him to the shore. The angel let out a squeak of indignance. How dare this heathen be rough with an angel of the Lord. It wasn't very nice or courteous of them. He thought, maybe, if he could reason with this man, then he'd be treated properly. "Excuse me, my dear boy, if you would be so kind as to remove your hands from my arm, then we'll get on perfectly fine."
The man looked at Aziraphale with narrowed eyes, a predatory expression drawn on his features. He said something harsh in a thick accent that Aziraphale didn't quite hear properly. They stared each other down before the Raider harshly flung Aziraphale into one of the many longboats lining the coast. Along with Aziraphale, there were women and children who huddled against each other, praying to God, hoping She would hear their pleas for help. If only there were something Aziraphale could do to help.
Several days later, and it's important to know they were several cold, wet, unpleasant days, the Northern Raiders finally came to the docks of a village set in between two fjords. Aziraphale stared up at the buildings as his boat came to a standstill. Between two sets of rather large masts on the largest boat in the port, was a string. And on that string was the most horrid sight the angel had ever seen. Heads of people who had been dead for days, possibly even months, hung down, eye sockets empty and cold.
One of the Raiders, the one who had captured him he noted, noticed his reaction and began laughing coldly. With no regard to Aziraphale's well-being, he yet again threw Aziraphale onto the ground before grabbing his collar and hauling him up. "Would you stop being so rough? This is really rather insulting and degrading!" he protested loudly.
The villagers and fishermen all looked at the scene before them while the Raider rolled his eyes. If Aziraphale wasn't killed by whoever bought him for being annoying, and strange, then the Raider thought he might just do it himself. Or maybe the blonde would accidentally drown in the ocean. He certainly seemed like the sort who didn't know how to swim even if his life depended on it.
Before Aziraphale could say anything more, the Raider started dragging him to the marketplace but was stopped by a tall figure with red hair. The Raider stiffened and Aziraphale's eyes widened as he saw the figure that the Raider had been stopped by. It was Crowley, clear as day. When Crowley's eyes landed on Aziraphale, his yellow eyes narrowed slightly, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
"My lord, Loki." the Raider, whose name Aziraphale had to get so he could refer to him by something much more kind, stood nervously and lowered his gaze.
"Hallsteinn, give me the Christian. I feel like taking on my own thrall from Midgard."
Hallsteinn nodded quickly and released Aziraphale before walking off. Crowley waited until Hallsteinn was gone before turning to Aziraphale. His smile was replaced by a smirk which made Aziraphale frown. "Angel, what are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the exact same thing. Why are you posing as a heathen god?"
Crowley looked at Aziraphale in a deadpan manner and began sauntering towards a large house. "You seem to forget, angel, that I'm a demon."
"Crowley, it's still wrong! What would She say if She knew?"
Crowley whipped his head around to glare at Aziraphale as they walked into the lodge. The demon grabbed Aziraphale's collar and roughly slammed him against the wall. "Despite everything, you think about your Head Office, and what you think of me, I swear that I am not doing this on purpose, but I surely have no qualms about it. I just happen to look like one of their gods."
Aziraphale huffed, for what felt like the hundredth time since he was so rudely kidnapped from Northumbria, and just stared at Crowley. "Get your filthy, blasphemous hands off of me, Crowley. I don't care what you say, it's still wrong."
Crowley slowly released Aziraphale and shook his head in disappointment. "Why must you and I always meet? Especially when I'm having a grand time?"
"Divine intervention, my dear. It's as simple as that."
As soon as Aziraphale had said that, a flash of white light appeared, and before the two beings stood Gabriel. "Divine intervention indeed," he echoed. "Hello, Aziraphale." He looked at Crowley in disdain. "Crowley…" the angel drew out.
Oh, this was just perfect. The last thing Aziraphale needed right now was for Gabriel to come check up on him. This entire week was turning out to be rather unenjoyable. No matter, the angel could just clear things up with Gabriel. "Gabriel!" his voice came out more chipper than he meant it to, but it worked. "Is something wrong in the Head Office? Because I really don't think I need to be there, as I have this situation to deal with. Mind you, I have it under control."
Gabriel gave an unsettling laugh. "Oh, Aziraphale, there's no problem in the Head Office. But She thought it would be a good idea to check up on you, and I was sent."
Aziraphale looked at Gabriel strangely, fiddling with his hands. Gabriel stared back at him, and the angel grew uncomfortable. "Well, as you can see, everything is under control."
"It doesn't look like it. Are you or are you not a slave to the…" Gabriel waved one of his hands around in the air, looking for the right word. "Pagans?" he finally spat out.
Aziraphale shifted lightly and looked at Crowley before looking back outside. "Er, not exactly."
"Not exactly? It's a yes or no question Aziraphale."
"They did capture me from Northumbria. And Hallsteinn did, er, plan to maybe, possibly sell me as a slave in the market. But Crowley gave me a chance to get out of that." Gabriel raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Aziraphale glanced at Crowley and nodded his head to Gabriel. "Well? Isn't that right?"
Crowley, like Gabriel, arched one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows in response. Aziraphale stared at him, silently pleading. Oh, how embarrassing this was. An angel, pleading with a demon. He'd never live this down.
Finally, Crowley sighed in defeat. "I wouldn't say that I gave him a way out," he drawled. "It was more or less," at this Crowley started waving his hands around. "well, I said I'd take Aziraphale as my thrall, you know?"
Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Crowley. He opened his mouth to say something but Aziraphale interrupted him. "I'm not actually his thrall! It was just a ruse so the pagans didn't get suspicious. Trust me, everything is under control."
Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's arm tightly and dragged the angel behind him. The demon bristled at Gabriel and started to hiss. "Thisss angel is my thrall. And I will keep him asss sssuch until I decide to free him from my grasssp. And if you have a problem with that, then you can anssswer to the me and the guard that isss right behind the front door."
Aziraphale's eyes widened at Crowley while Gabriel looked outraged. Crowley's grip on Aziraphale's arm moved to his wrist and tightened, eliciting a sharp yelp from Aziraphale. Gabriel stepped back and vanished again.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale cried as soon as Gabriel left. Crowley turned to regard Aziraphale carefully. "You can't be serious?"
"Of course I'm serious, angel. At least to the outside world of the Norsemen, you're my thrall."
He felt his heart leap into his throat. "But why?" he was nearly whining at this point. But in his defence, this was not going how he planned.
Crowley released his grip and closed the shutters of his house. "Because if I didn't, they'd start to get suspicious." With a flourish, Crowley turned to Aziraphale. "I am, after all, Loki the Trickster God. Plus, they worship me here!"
"You are not Loki, and no one worships you."
"Try telling the mortals that."
Aziraphale huffed. "This is wrong."
Crowley smirked and slowly walked to Aziraphale, swinging his hips. Maybe Aziraphale stared too long, or maybe Crowley planned it, but whatever the angel was going to say in response to whatever Crowley was going to say next, died. The demon was close to Aziraphale, too close, and he chuckled lowly, his breath ghosting over Aziraphale's neck. "Is it? Because I name several things that are worse than what I'm doing."
Aziraphale's face heated up as he snapped back to his senses and stumbled backwards. "It's wrong!" he cried, his voice cracking. "Any way you look at it, it's wrong."
Crowley started laughing and shook his head. "I'm a demon, angel. I have to stir things up down here."
"Well, you're not doing a very good job," Aziraphale muttered.
Crowley feigned hurt. "How dare you, I am doing perfectly well. Besides, I like being a god down here."
"It won't last."
Crowley bit his lower lip in thought and shrugged. "No, but I can at least enjoy it while I can."
Aziraphale crossed his arms and glared at Crowley. "Fine then, I guess I'll just leave and let you have your 'fun'." He started towards the door but Crowley lunged for him, slamming his hand on the door, blocking Aziraphale's path.
"Now why would you leave? I'm rather good company."
"Get behind me, foul fiend."
Crowley leaned in close. "Now, angel, is that how you treat your husband?"
Aziraphale felt his face heat up again and he leaned back a bit. "No, but you're letting this power get to your head. And more importantly, I don't like these heathens. They're rather barbaric."
"They're Danes, angel. Give them some time, they'll grow on you."
Aziraphale sighed. "If I didn't love you, I'd have left this settlement the second I got off the boat."
"I love you too. Now, how shall we do this?"
Aziraphale tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Make you respected to the Norsemen. They have to know that I will not tolerate someone hurting you."
"Whatever you do, do not make me pose as a Norse god."
Crowley sighed and dropped his head to Aziraphale's shoulder. "Damn, there goes my idea of making you act as my wife."
"Keep trying." A hint of amusement laced Aziraphale's voice.
"If I had a heart…"
"If you had a heart?" Crowley just shrugged before flinging open the house door and sauntering out into the village. Aziraphale shook his head and couldn't keep the small smile from escaping his lips.