You winced as the bone needle slipped, pricking your finger. It was the third time in less then five minutes. No surprise really, you resented your task. And what a task, a horrid and loathsome task.
You weren't sewing a wound, nor putting together a death shroud. No, you were stitching a wedding gown. Your wedding gown.
Your father was a rather pushy man, He had been the one to decide that it was high time you were married off. Although your mother was against it at first, he had managed to convince her that it was for the best. After that, it was only a matter of picking the particular man.
The blacksmith Beilshmidt? Even though he was strict and some what intimidating, he had a kind side, helping those in need. But did your father pick him? No, of course not, he was a foreigner, therefore unfit for the job.
Tino the sheep herder? The only man in the village who would go berry picking with the women and who often volunteered to watch young children when they wanted a day off. He was one of the nicest people you knew and the only man in the entire village you truly felt comfortable talking to.
Even Lukas the village story teller was better than the man your father had picked. Lukas was good with children and his silent disposition went well with the magical creatures that followed him around.
Even though there were at least several men who were intelligent and kind, your father had decided that the scariest man in the village was your perfect match.
Berwald Oxenstierna, Capitan of the Berserker. Tall and silent, he was an intimidating man who glared at everything and everyone. His companions, Mathias Kohler and Emil were violent men, each one worst than the last.
"Have you finished the dress yet?"
Glancing up, you let a small smile flit across your face. Tino was smiling at you, one hand behind his back. Snow lay on his hair and shoulders, slowly melting in the heat of the cabin. Your smile fell. His grin looked forced and it didn't reach his eyes, which looked sad for some reason.
"Are you alright?"
Tino's face crumpled as he began to cry. You flinched, surprised by his reaction.
Shoulders shaking, Tino fell to his knees, one hand over his mouth as he attempted to stifle his sobs.
"What's wrong?!" You flung the dress away, kneeling beside him as you studied his face.
"I...I was going to ask you to marry me. B-But then your father c-chose Berwald."
A blush spread across your face as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
" I don't want to marry him Tino." You swiftly brushed the tears away, angry that you were crying. Tino pulled his hand around his back, holding out a small ring.
"I had Ludwig made this for me." He laughed without humour and sighed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Pointless now."
You took the ring, reaching up to tie it onto the leather cord you wore about your neck.
Tino gave you a watery smile, lips trembling. Reaching out, he pulled you into a hug, a fresh wave of tears dripping onto your shoulder. You pressed your face into his shoulder, eyes shut tight to keep the wave of tears from escaping.
"Don't you have sheep to herd Tino?" A sneering voice inquired. You pulled away from him, face paling as you saw who had spoken. Berwald was glaring at Tino, Mathias smirking and Emil expressionless as usual.
"S-Sorry. I was... I was just congratulating _____."
The trio merely scowled, waiting until Tino got up and left. Berwald slouched to a chair, slumping onto is as he glared at you, the bear skin on his shoulders bunching against the chair back.
Mathais scowled at you, tugging at the ring. "Did Tino give you that? Don't you think that's a bit unfaithful to Berwald?"
He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, "You haven't even married him yet and you're already seeing another man."
Glaring you picked up the forgotten dress, roughly jerking the needle through it as you began to sew again. The men watched, eyes narrowed.
Why where people always like this? Always needing something to talk about, someone to laugh at. You hated that, just as much as you hated the three men before you.
"Of course I'm not trying. You disrespected my friend. I never even wanted to marry Berwald." You spat his name as if it were a disgusting taste in your mouth. The giant of a man was impassive, ocean blue eyes stone cold.
Mathias looked shock, mouth open slightly, clearly he had not expected you to respond. Emil was stone faced, per usual.
And Berwlad looked indifferent, his light blonde brows dipped, casting a shadow of his eyes. For some reason his constant lack of interest ticked you off. Something inside you decided enough was enough, the boiling anger you had been trying to suppress surfaced. You felt your jaw clench and fingers curl into a fist.
Tossing the dress aside, you stood and swept out of the cabin, not bothering to grab your cloak. A cold wind brushed your face, sending snow twirling into your eyes. Squinting against the small flakes, you hurried through the thin layer of snow that covered the ground.
Giants, most often portrayed in stories as man eating brutes. Each one seeming to crave the flesh of creatures smaller than them. Like every mythical creature, every village, town and country has slightly different versions of how the act.
To you, they were like any other story, meant to scare children and keep them from wandering.
In your county, one of these beasts was real. He was a giant, taller than any man.
Or at least that's what everyone said. In truth, no one really knew. All the stories had been passed down from their parents who got it from who knew where.
Supposedly, the said giant was actually under a small hill, wrapped up in layers of earth like it was his blanket. Asleep until the right person came along to wake him. A stupid story that you hated with a passion.
If you looked at it scientifically, the hill wasn't very big. A man about seven to eight feet tall could probably fit under it comfortably. Good thing there were only a very few men (All human) that were about seven feet tall.
"______? It's your turn to wait by the hill."
Waiting by the freaking hill. Of course a long time village tradition. The reason you hated the story. Seriously. What sane person wants to spend an entire night watching a stupid hill? The only exciting thing that ever happened was when rabbits came by and ate the grass.
"Really? Do I have to?"
"YES!" Your mother turned around, looking angry. "It's tradition!"
You made a face as soon as her back was turned, Screw the tradition. You would go to the hill and wait there until everyone had gone to sleep, then you would sneak back home.
Someone was working against you. Either that, or your mother was psychic. The lights in your house wouldn't go out. In fact, nearly half the village seemed to still be awake. At least they couldn't see you, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and curses spewing from your mouth.
You leaned against a tree, letting your eyes close. It really wasn't fair sometimes. Sighing, you flopped onto your side, more curses spilling from your lips. You slapped the ground in frustration. Stupid hill, stupid story. A grin spread across your face. Standing up, you lifted one foot and slammed it down as hard as you could on the mossy green hill. That felt good. Still smirking you lifted your foot again, mashing your heel deep into the turf.
"Oi." a male voice snapped.
You ignored the voice, probably so village drunkard who wandered away from town. You lifted your foot again, then yelped in fear. The ground beneath you was moving. It shuddered and the grass seemed to twist, almost like a blanket. You fell onto your rump, letting out a cry of pain as your ankle twisted.
Pirate!JapanxPirate!ReaderxPirate!Scotland (With Bounty Hunter Australia)
Queen of the seas
Your crew was on edge, the men moving about the deck nervously. It was understandable, after all, you were approaching a siren hotspot. Sirens, how you despised them. Always eating the people you knew.
"Alright men." You clapped your hands and pointed to the large crate you had acquired at the last port. Inside were pieces of wax, the perfect sound blockers.
"Put those in and continue sailing as normal."
"What about you Captain?" Jones asked, his face pale. You felt bad for the young man, he had yet to get his sea legs completely.
"I'll be fine."
The sirens didn't eat women, something about all women kind being their sisters and what not. Which was good for you, but not so much the men. They shoved the wax into their ears, glancing at you fearfully. You gave them reassuring smiles, not feeling as nearly as confident as you looked.
The first twenty minutes of sailing were silent. You paced the deck, keeping a look out. Nothing. You paced back the other way, your white heels clicking a comforting rhythm.
You whipped around, hand flying up to the sword hilt at your waist. A siren was clinging to the side rail of the ship, pouting at you. You rolled your eyes and pursed your lips.
"Move it or lose it sister, This is my ship."
The siren made a face, then scowled at you. "Can't we just have one?"
You told exactly her what you thought of that plan, smirking as her eyes widened with shock and her jaw dropped. Hey what could you say? You were a sailor.
You lifted your right leg and kicked her off the rail, smirking. Turning around, the smirk dropped and you felt your blood freeze.
Great. Apparently pouty was a distraction. At least ten other sirens were attempting to pull some of your crew over board. One of them had Jones. You leapt forward, sword in hand, temper flaring.
Your blade spun and twisted, turning into a streak of liquid silver. Greenish blood flew everywhere, as well as several limbs and locks of hair.