Rising out of the water, Astrid's bare form glistened. For just a few moments she gazed at herself. Her skin swollen and rippled, shoulders and back broad, midriff ruggedly sculpted, and her legs seemingly made of steel. Years of training forged and refined her figure into a deadly weapon. 'Quite muscular for a woman,' a comment from one of her aunts drifted in her mind.
She scoffed with a murmur, "Goddess of War, huh?"
After exiting the water, she dressed. Astrid never anticipated the scope around the names, titles, or aesthetics that surrounded godhood. She was never one for vanity or hubris but the fame and glory were truly a blessing for a goddess. Temples and statues weren't what she was looking for but it certainly was lovely for people to look at her in high regard. To her, she was just a blessed woman that would one be immortalized in song.
Her village was in sight. Berk, an island found and settled by humbled sailors and fishermen. The docks were always filled with boats with a lot of families being fishing families. Despite that fact, Berk had a strong warrior culture, evident by the constant working forge with men wielding weapons and a few women wielding them as well. It kind of made sense when they praised her for battle prowess. It was normally a bit quiet during the day before getting rowdy at night from the drinking and feasting. But for some reason, a large audience was surrounding one of the boats.
"Snotlout has returned!" "Jorgenson is here!" "Snotlout the Bloodthirsty!"
A few of the younger children were running to the docks while some of the adults stopped and talked while looking toward the docks. She started for the docks, curious about the commotion. She thought, 'Snotlout Jorgenson. Returned.'
There was a parge crowd growing around a sailor who stood on a crate as he animatedly spoke. His hands waved around as the man jumped and danced around. "It was then the Bloodthirsty Jorgenson ripped the heart straight from the beast's chest!"
Astrid seemed mildly amused as the story seemed far-fetched and exaggerated. Her eyes dragged over to the subject of the story. Snotlout's thick beard was drenched from ale with a lazy smile as he enjoyed the excited man's tale. Despite his slight rotund build, his frame was brawny, with thick arms and wide, large shoulders.
Chuckling, Snotlout laid a hand on the sailor's shoulder, "Please, don't flatter me. As glorious as this battle was, our adventure was not as glittery as you claim it."
Snotlout's eyes stopped on Astrid with a wide smile lighting his face up. "The great Lady Hofferson! She welcomes the prince to his kingdom!"
Astrid's eyes steeled over as the man sauntered over to her. Obviously disturbed by Snotlout's closeness, Astrid spoke, "Quite the adventure. As glorious as it sounds, it seems odd that you came back this early."
He chuckled, "Well, yes it was, but I thought it best to come back. What kind of king would my people see me as if they saw me as a king that frequently adventures off in the world?"
"You aren't a king or a prince, Snotlout." Astrid followed up with a quirked eyebrow.
With a roll of his eyes, Snotlout answered, "I am not, but I will be king. I am the closest to the royal family as can be without royal blood. The Jorgenson and Haddock lines are connected from historical ties, and the strength and battle instincts from past Jorgenson and Haddock warriors flow in my blood. And with the glory I've been attaining through my quests, I will no doubt be seen as a true warrior king. Without an heir, our king will have to look outside for a successor. Me."
"Don't get your hopes up," Astrid spoke flatly, snark dripping from her tongue, "you might find the king between the legs of some common wench before you are properly coronated."
Snotlout's laugh was a bark of derision, "If the king would have sewn a new prince, he'd have done it by now. Without a queen or son, he will ultimately look towards me."
"Careful, mighty Snotlout," Astrid's voice was even-tempered, "if the king hears you mention his family, he might sooner rip your head off before placing a crown on it."
Snotlout laughed slightly, "I am only jesting my Lady," his face gave way to a grin, "but wouldn't I make a great king?"
Astrid looked out over the ocean calmly, "If you were to become king, I'm sure you'd be able to set yourself apart from all others."
"Ponder on this, you'd have the pleasure of pledging your axe towards me. Or maybe even pledging more than just your axe…"
Astrid caught Snotlout's leering gaze towards her from the corner of her eye. She sniffed as she started from the docks. "While no disrespect towards my future king, I'd sooner splay my legs for the horses in the stables before entering your bed."
Snotlout's face reddened from the insult. He himself was seen and treated as a war god but everyone knew that Astrid was not a goddess to be trifled with. He could and would exert himself over almost anyone in their tribe but there was a small number of people Snotlout knew not to try, and Astrid was included in that number. And so Snotlout reconciled with this by watching Astrid walk away, allowing the last word.
The blonde shield-maiden strutted through the dirt road of the village, passing homes and stables. She watched the slaves and servants tend to the horses in the stables and the farm animals. Children jumped and danced around as they played around. Plenty of people stopped what they were doing and acknowledged Astrid's being. She responded with a nod and a small smile.
Her body tensed with anticipation when a hollowing shriek echoed throughout the village. She looked towards the sky and her eyes laid upon a black cloud of demonic monstrosities racing down. Their teeth and claws were daggers with a somewhat humanoid shape. Despite their emaciated and wiry frame, the muscle they had was taut and stretched across their bulk. Their eyes varied—bulbs the color of dark wine—from a regular set of two to two, three, and even four sets. They flew with leathery, worn-looking wings. Inky black, deep red, and pale grey were the colors they came in.
"Everyone, get inside now!"
The village knew what this was and acted accordingly. Children and those that couldn't fight were herded and carried inside houses. Most of the men and some of the women took up a weapon and readied themselves for a battle.
"Astrid!"
The shield-maiden was tossed her toy. She looked towards her mother who winked at her. She held a small smile looking at her toy, a double-bladed axe.
A demon charged her and with a mighty war cry, she launched her axe straight into the forehead of the beast. The strength behind her throw was so great that it stopped the beast's speed and momentum as it flopped to the ground, limp.
Astrid's people were intimate partners with battle and bloodshed. Ever since she could remember demons were akin to plague for her island. And the remedy they responded with were spears and swords. Normally the battlefield was reserved for the men, but the demons were such fearsome beasts that even the women were allowed to wield weapons. Even if a child was old enough, they were called to the battlefield.
Astrid's eyes narrowed. She fought the monsters since she was just a girl. These beasts were like wolves, pack animals with a social hierarchy. 'Time to figure out which bastard was in charge.'
Then she saw it. It was humanoid and feminine in appearance with a skeletal frame; almost as if she never ate. Skin pale and sickly white with two horns stretching upwards from her hairline.
Launching her axe, Astrid saw the witch jump to the side. Taking off in a sprint, Astrid's foot came flying towards the witch. 'It's agile I'll give it that.' Astrid thought when her heel connected with nothing but air.
"You'll have to be more than just light on your feet if you want to prevent me from killing you." The young goddess took up her axe and went to work.
Astrid's battle with the witch was aggravating. The witch's movements were graceful and fluid; never attacking, always dodging and parrying. The goddess noted that her opponent was analogous to a dancer as she followed Astrid's movements crisply. She danced and twirled around Astrid almost like she was playing.
With a heel to the jaw, Astrid could barely make the witch's blurred shape before being flipped onto her back, her axe scattering away from her. The witch held out her hands with inky-colored talons smiling. Glaring at the witch, Astrid swallowed her coppery tasting blood
This time Astrid fought with renewed vigor, and with her blinding speed, she turned into a flaxen blur. With gritted teeth, the goddess unleashed a barrage of fists, elbows, and feet. Catching the witch off guard, Astrid got in close with a headbutt. Despite the witch's dance-like movements, she took Astrid's strike almost like she barely felt it
The witch returned with a knee to Astrid's chin and sent her ungracefully onto her back. Flipping back onto her feet, the blonde started seeing red with her blue eyes blazing. And with a thunderous roar, she launched herself at the witch into the dirt.
Astrid's fists were painted red from the repetition of connecting with the witch's face. The goddess's berserker rage and battle lust were driving her like a rider with their horse. Her murderous assault was starting to bury the witch's head in the dirt; a crater forming and starting to cradle her skull.
In a flash, the witch caught one of Astrid's fists and clawed her across the face. The force of it pushed Astrid across the dirt. Lashes of red formed diagonally from her jawline, across cheek and eyelid, to her hairline.
Both scrambled to get there, the witch racing towards the goddess and the goddess racing towards her axe. Three feet away from her opponent the witch was going back-turned opponent before being met with a nasty backhanded swipe from the metal in the goddess's hand.
Astrid took her chance and swiped the witch across her torso. Yanking her blade from the witch's waist she kicked her feet out from under her. Straddling the downed witch, the blonde goddess raised her axe above.
The sky darkened with black clouds circling above. Thunder drummed and beat so loud the ground shook and trembled; no doubt the earth fearing the sky's temper and fury. Arcs of cold fire snaked and slithered through the clouds in flashes. Everyone—men and demons alike—stopped and ogled the fury of the sky, fear paralyzing all.
The cold fire raced towards the earth at blinding speed. The cold fire collected into Astrid's axe blade as if the cold fire had a mind of its own. The axe was bombarded with the power of a storm that it started glowing a blinding, white-hot light. With a deafening roar to rival the sky's thunder, Astrid brought down the axe on the witch's chest.
An explosion of light emitted around the two so bright the villagers turned away or shielded their eyes. When the light died down all there was left was the black smoke rising from the blackened corpse of the witch and the smell of burned flesh in every nose.
Astrid stood above the corpse breathing heavily and sweat coating her skin. She turned towards the remaining demons still alive. She lowered her stance with her blue eyes hardened; the tendrils of cold fire still slithering around her axe.
The remaining demons took to the sky, taking to their cloud formation. The villagers roared and whooped as the beasts fled from the very sight of Astrid's murderous visage. The white cold fire on her axe dematerialized.
Letting out a breath, the goddess gazed upon the cloud of demons fleeing towards the ocean from which they came. The villagers chanted the epithets of the goddess that saved them.
"Sky-bearer!" "The Goddess of Cold Fire has given us strength this day" "The mere presence of the Lady of Heaven was enough to scare the beasts off!" "The heavens have favored us!" "Astrid the Storm-bearer!"
Yeah... this story ain't dead.