Sprinting Fox: Unwritten

OC x Daenerys Targaryen (GoT / Vikings)

A/N: Another random one-shot idea! This one is a sort of Vikings/Game of Thrones crossover. Very minor Vikings details in it, similar to my fic that was a Game of Thrones/Legacies (TVDU) crossover. Just something else I want to get out of my system. You can expect the usual Vikings & Game of Thrones themes to be referenced or written explicitly, including but not limited to: abuse, miscarriage, traumatic childbirth, underage marriage, violence, incest, etc. I am basing this loosely off of Vikings (Season 1 - Season 6) and Game of Thrones (Season 1 - Season 8). The intended love interest would have been Daenerys Targaryen. For reference, the OC's faceclaim is Ruby Hartley, who played Stiorra in The Last Kingdom.

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Yunkai, 300 AC

Their defeat came swiftly.

It was hardly a challenge for her. She'd fought hosts much larger, armed with anything she could hold. Some, she beat to death or suffocated with her bare hands. A few fell when she lodged an ax and some knives in their foreheads. Two may have had their clubs ripped away and used against them. She preferred swords and spears, but had not complained when at one point, they'd asked her to take the post of an archer.

Battles were games to her. She went into them with the least amount of armor, inviting Hel to reach out to her. Welcoming Valhalla, if it would finally take her. She remembered long days chasing her brothers around, trying to join in their simulations of real war. Her fear of death had vanished a long time ago.

She craved it. Her father once said that he was torn between killing himself and everyone around him. She lived by those words, even if she hadn't been there when he spoke them. Death was her friend, Death was what she lusted for. Anything to be free of this.

She still wasn't sure what she was living for. She could no longer be anyone's shield maiden, not like her grandmother, who she was named for, and not like Lagertha, who she'd worshiped until her mother's dying day. She'd gone to a far away land and avenged her father, she'd chosen sides more times than she could count, and still something remained incomplete.

Still, she was trapped in this desolate land.

"We move out next morrow," said Daario Naharis behind her, finding her cleaning the blood off of her weapons. "You're absolutely sure you wish to join us?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She lifted the sword, tilting the blade until it shone in the light. "I choose to follow the Second Sons. If you'll go with the Dragon Queen, so will I." She sheathed her sword, tapping it against her hip.

A beautiful thing it was, long and with a brown-colored handle and hilt adorned with precious jewels, topaz and rubies and pearls marking it as an item made for someone special. On the polished blade– which Daario believed to be made of Valyrian steel, even after she insisted it wasn't– were etched the runes that read 'Sword of Kings.' A difficult sword to acquire, but every bit worth it. Why should it have remained rotting away with Bjorn, who didn't deserve it? The sword had once been held by her father and her mother. Lagertha and Bjorn were gone. The sword was meant to pass onto someone else, someone with Ragnar's blood.

"You can meet her whenever you'd like," offered Daario. "She's already asked about you."

The woman tilted her head. "And what did you tell the Mother of Dragons?"

"The truth. You had no place to call home and many talents that would've gone to waste elsewhere. You and I saw eye to eye on many things– there is no thrill in prostitutes, only in bedding a woman who earnestly wants it, and in killing a man who is trying to kill us, first. Mero and Prendahl na Ghezn have no say in whether you can be in our ranks or not. It is your choice alone if you will come and let the Queen see your worth. A strategist, a nimble and versatile warrior, and most importantly," he winked, "A witch."