Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Prologue
"Brothers and sisters, the past three harvests were failures for each clan! Ours was no different than the rest, the crops suffered cold winters! But this, I say, is a sign from the gods!" Eivarn yelled to his men. They had been preparing this raid for a month. Two hundred ships were built, each able to carry forty men.
Eivarn was smaller than most of his kin. He led the Sharphart Clan lightly, being a benevolent and fair ruler. But when the crops failed like this, he would not hesitate to launch a raid on neighbors. But he's never seen one as big as this. Eivarn had long hair, a wave of brown crawling down his neck. He looked next to nothing like his fellow countrymen. He was paler and not as strong. But the people loved him and his wife.
His wife is a beauty. She's a little taller than him, and almost always wore a brass mask. She was almost always ready for war. She carried her sword and shield everywhere, just in case. She had long, flowing blonde hair that was occasionally tied up in a braid. Her broad shoulders were menacing enough that not many attempted to court her, except for Eivarn. Her name is Magnhild.
"Brothers and sisters," Magnhild, his wife continued for him, "the gods have taken this year from us all! How many children and spouses are starving? They see us as scared of adventure, the gods. Are we afraid of the sea?" She asked the raiders.
"Never!" The men called back.
"Are we scared of the other races, of man and álfur and beast?" She called again.
"Never!" The men replied.
"Are we terrified of the myths that our mothers and fathers read to us at night?" She asked once more.
"Never!" The men called again.
Eivarn took the speech back. "Tomorrow, we leave. Tonight, we feast. We are down to the last of our stockpiles, and I want the only things left to be for our children and spouses. We'll leave enough for them, do not worry. The rest of the clans are doing the same. We sail East, into the land of myth and legend. And we will come back, that I can promise you."
The men cheered, then he dispersed them. Him and his wife went back to the longhouse to feast and make love.
------
Chapter 1: A Warlord's Prison
"Come, men, we are but a mile away from the shores! We are to be victorious, we are to become legends!" Eivarn screamed to his ship, and any other that could hear him. The rest of the clan chiefs were giving a similar speech.
"He's right, full speed now!" Magnhild, his beautiful wife yelled to the crew as she held Eivarn's hand. The men cheered, and kept rowing. There was no wind for the sails at the moment. "The gods bless us this day, I know it! We will be sung about for hundreds of decades to come!" She egged the men on.
Not long later, they reached the island. Only a few more meters... but then, they saw archers ready on the walls, with glowing arrows. They had strange armor made from bones and hide. They launched two volleys at the ships. Anyone that was hit turned to dust, and two whole crews lost immediately.
They landed, and the defenders sent out what they had. It was a 2-1 situation, with the defenders having more. But they were smaller than the humans. They were only about 159 centimeters tall compared to the human's 205. The defenders, otherwise known as Osthyriosians, had green skin and purple hair. They were exceptional magic users, according to ancient legends.
"Men, we cannot give up!" The Clan was losing, still not having left the beaches. Eivarn and Magnhild were fighting as hard as they ever had. Eivarn soon came face-to-face with a commander. He wore heavy armor made of bone and what looked to be a shell of some kind of insect. Eivarn went to stab him with his sword, but it was knocked away. The commander carried a shield and a Mace. He wanted to take prisoners for his own fun. He charged straight towards Eivarn, plunging his shield into him and knocking him back. He didn't fall though.
Eivarn carries a sword and a dagger, and was at a terrible disadvantage. He tried getting around the commander, but was met with a head of iron at his side.
Meanwhile, Magnhild was cutting down soldiers left and right. At least until she found herself surrounded. She was plummeted with weapons, but blocked many with her small shield. But there were too many for her, and they were able to knock her out easily. She was quickly taken to a cage behind the walls, and stripped of all her clothes except her bra and panties.
After an hour or two of fighting, the last ship arrived. It wasn't an ordinary one. It was orcish, an orc king had decided to join the battles. Chieftain Nars invites him, thinking it would make the army stronger. But the king was much too late. The orcs then stormed the beach, only to be met with heavy resistance. They were cut down just as fast, and no prisoners were taken this time.
Eivarn fell to the commander's Mace, and was thrown in a cage beside his wife. They would need to get used to being separated like that for a while now.
----------
Eivarn woke up about a day later. There was food by the cell door, which was made of a strange reddish-orange metal. It wasn't bronze, or copper. Maybe the mystical Adamantium? Not likely. His cell was made mostly of stone bricks, and had a small window also made of the same bars. But it looked like it had a way to be shut, in case it rained. The cell itself was about 5 feet wide and 7 feet long. There was a table made of a white wood on a corner, a bucket for shit, and a stone bed that had a blanket made of cotton. It would keep him warm, but torture him with a terrible itch. Especially since all he had now was a loincloth covering his manhood.
There were cells across grim his, identical to his. But his had a window (also made of the bars) that showed him his wife. Magnhild wasn't awake yet, and was stuck to shackles on the wall. She was stripped of almost all her clothes. Everything but her bra and underwear.
He heard footsteps coming, likely a guard, or even someone who actually wanted to talk to him for some reason. They grew louder, and he was soon face to face with a nobleman.
"Do you speak Osthyrian?" He asked Eivarn. He wore bright red robes that contrasted with his sea-green skin and dark purple hair. He was taller than most of the others, with a sharply sculpted face and large, menacing pouldrons on his shoulders. They only worked to enhance his authority.
"No, piss off." Eivarn spat at the ground in front of the nobleman.
He only laughed. "I won't. In fact, if you keep acting like that, I'll give you a worse punishment than just being separated from your whore." He gestured to Magnhild.
"Whore? You son of a bitch. I'll kill you when I get out!" Eivarn got to the bars and grabbed them.
"With what army? I'm Cladriel, of house Barja. You've heard of us, I'm sure."
"Why would I care, fucker?"
"Because my house specializes in warfare, tournaments, and torture. And having captured both you and your wife, well, that will only just give us something we don't do often." He chuckled to himself as he turned away. His robes showed intricate silver designs, and words in an alphabet Eivarn would never know.
"And what's that punishment?" Eivarn glanced at his dress.
"You'll see. Have a nice sleep." He tossed a spell on him, which swiftly put him in a deep sleep.
