12 years later.
Scandinavia, 791 a.d.
The morning sun stretched warmly across the snowy white Oak forest a few kilometers away from Lagertha and Ragnar's and their children's home.
Baldur was riding across the white landscape on a black horse as he ventured into the forest, covered in furs, not feeling the cold at all. He was now twelve years old, and he would get his arm ring anytime now.
By now, he already knew where he was... Somehow he was sent into the Vikings tv show or so he thought... Unless it was the real Ragnar from the tales?...but he quickly denied it, it must be the Viking TV series and somehow he became the firstborn of Ragnar Lothbrok and Lagertha the shield-maiden. A pity that I don't remember too much about it, hell I even dropped it after Ragnar's death.
Two years later after my birth, they had Bjorn, my little brother and tail and after him, the next year, came to the world Gyda, my sweet baby sister. I adore Gyda, she looks like our mother, and she is always plastered to me, following me around, which I don't dislike. On the contrary, I like it too much. So much, that I intend to make my sister my wife.
Yes, my wife. There is no law at this time that prohibits marriage between siblings or parents and children; you could even have as many wives or concubines as one liked, given that you had the necessary resources to support them all. Wives, it was more tricky by the benefits they have and the most problematic if they were to divorce you, concubines not so much. The same was for the number of Thralls, or better known as slaves; you could have as many as you liked.
He planned to have a good life this time. A life of promiscuity. Something that he could have never thought of in the 'modernity' and all his sort of shitty morals and ethics constraints.
I love the Norse Gods and the people following them. I would leave aside my belief in the Lord and instead wage war in Odin's name; I would make sure that the Norse faith doesn't decline in my lifetime. What a beautiful way to live in the world compared to all the restraints of Christianity.
I lived by the Lord's Will and teaching, yet I still haven't gained access to Heaven after death. So now that I'm born Nordic, I plan to live like a Viking and discard any absurd speck of morality and modern shitty thought and aspire for Valhalla in my old age. Yes, old age, because I don't plan to die before having a hundred wives and a thousand concubines like the Chinese emperors.
Baldur could already speak in Old Norse fluently and had already adapted to the life in this era; there was no middle option, you adapted or you became a nuisance. So he embraced what he considered becoming a savage to survive this time, different from the happy life of the future, where people could enjoy the benefits of the rights that were acquired by the suffering of people before them. People thought that they had the right to everything just by being born, and never crossed in their minds the thought that those rights were made possible by people over the numerous centuries of hard work, countless deaths, and wars.
Now, those things don't exist; here, the supreme right is that the biggest fist is the truth. So I made sure that my fist was big and could punch with enough force to kill anybody in front of my path.
Thankfully, he was born blessed. Lagertha and Ragnar were right, as they had told him many times. He really was blessed by the gods.
But he wanted to digress, because he wasn't sure if it was a God or something else that favored him.
In any case, he was blessed by something.
He had a supernatural body; he grew faster, becoming tall and strong like an ox, faster and agile like a cheetah, and savage and untamed like a wolf. He never got sick or weak; he could even regenerate wounds quickly, even if they were deep enough. It just took a few hours to be like new, depending on the damage; it would seal and stop the bleeding, and then start repairing itself.
At 12 years old, he stood at 1.75 meters tall, his body was filled with muscles that packed dangerous power that could take a man with a punch, but it was nowhere near as dangerous like it was his horse cock of 20 cm that was still growing up.
If he were born again in the XXI century, he could work as a pornstar already.
The thing that made him smile was having a rare golden eye; it was so beautiful to look into it that sometimes he felt like Narcissus. His other eye was blue like the sea, and his perfect Nordic look attracted any woman or girl that set his sight upon him. It was a plus.
Of course, all these benefits brought envy and hate from lesser men who wished to have it themselves.
But those things weren't direct blessings from some superior entity. Instead, they were the perks of a system—the blessing package of any reincarnator. A power that made his ambition explode like never before. It activated when he was six years old.
.....
Baldur's golden locks whipped behind him as he clung to the saddle confidently while riding at high speed. His mount, Unnvaldr, a black stallion with the spirit of Sleipnir pulsing through its veins, or so he liked to boast, galloped with untamed joy. The hooves tore into the soft, damp soil, and Baldur, arms spread wide, embraced the world with a reckless grin carved across his face.
"Mín ørlög nálgast," he shouted to the snowy wind.
The breeze roared past his ears, tearing through his hair, stinging his eyes. He laughed into the wild, feeling alive and unrestrained. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back on the saddle as Unnvaldr carried him through the forest.
Eventually, the forest thickened, and Unnvaldr slowed to a trot. Baldur smiled and tugged the reins, and the stallion obediently snorted and eased to a halt. Up ahead, through the canopy, he saw a herd of deer grazing in a golden break of sunlight, delicate and unaware.
Baldur slid down from the saddle, his movements silent and fluid. He pulled a bow from the leather sheath at the saddle's side. He moved like a ghost, boots silent over the forest ground, and crouched near a fallen log. The scent of damp bark, and animal musk filled his nostrils. He quickly prepared himself for shooting as he tensed the bowstring with an arrow he took from the quiver, and his finger steadied over as he aimed, and his breathing slowed.
The deer, young and sleek, grazed near a stream, unaware of the predator in their midst. Baldur aimed, his breath steady, his heartbeat calm.
*CRACK.*
The sound of the bowstring echoed through the trees like thunder as the arrow flew. The deer flailed, stumbled, then fell. It tried to stand up again, but fell down again. Then it started making sounds and trashing around even more weakly as time passed. A clean shot as the arrow pierced deeply through the ribs, the heart likely being touched. Baldur remained still a moment longer, feeling the blood settle in his veins. Then, he stood, slinging the bow over his back, and stepped forward.
He knelt beside the fallen beast, unsheathed a dagger from his waist, and slashed the deer in his heart, finishing him. After a moment, the deer ceased moving as his eyes were wide open. He pressed a hand to the deer, feeling the warm body. "What a good shot, the arrow fucked him," he whispered. "It is a fine hunt, we will enjoy fresh deer meat today. Hopefully Mom and sis like it."
He was excited about having hunted a nice deer. He quickly secured the deer's legs with a length of rope and hoisted the body across Unnvaldr's flanks. Blood dripped softly onto the horse's black hide, but the stallion did not protest.
Baldur leaned forward slightly, brushing a hand through the horse's mane, and smiled, satisfied, "We fetched a good prey so quickly, didn't we, boy?"
Unnvaldr whinnied softly, as if in agreement. Baldur smirked as he took a waterskin filled with mead and drank from it.
*ROAR!!!* A loud beastly sound echoed strongly from the back of Baldur, which made him open his eyes wide, identifying the animal without even turning back to look at it.