The oars slipped through the water silently as the bow of the long boat cut neatly through the mirror like surface; leaving not so much as a ripple to mark to it's passing. On the deck they stood silently; the mist of the early morning collecting and dampening their golden manes—and in one exception, the burnish copper of another. He stood off towards the side, his blue eyes marking every boulder; every tree that dotted the shore. It was nearing autumn, a rather ill fated time for raiding, but their leader had assured them that it wasn't too far and that they'd make it back before the water froze in the fjord. He pulled his mantel around him, his blood starting to sing with the knowledge that before the sun made it's appearance there would be countless bodies at his feet—some begging for mercy and some already cooling as their pleading was met with a sharp thrust of his sword.

The hull of the boat scraped against the sandy bedrock and silt on the shore and as quietly as they could they disembarked; each man checking their weapons before hopping down into the soft sand. Their leader held up his hand, his honey eyes molten as he looked over the assembled mass of bodies. He lived up to his name; hunting came easily to him, whether it was animal or human prey that he tracked.

"The village isn't too far. They start harvesting this week, so only the women and old men are there." He swung his shaggy head towards the rising sun and motioned for them to follow.

They moved silently through the trees and thick brush, each man treading as quietly as they could with the dry shells of once vibrant leaves disintegrating under their leather clad feet with soft rustles. The smell of burning wood wafted to their noses and they fanned out; planning on taking the small village by surprise on all sides. Before they moved in for the attack, the priest stoped and offered a prayer to the gods for their safety; his ice blue eyes gleaming in the dull light of the coming dawn. The serene look slips from his face and his lips pull back from teeth; showing off a gap put there by his own brother during a scuffle they had as children.

Hunter nodded his head and signaled to the others. As silent as death during the winter they swept into the village, cutting down anything that moved in resistance. His blue eyes roamed the scene; cutting away from the auburn haired man as he raped a pregnant mother; beating her mercilessly in the process. Two shadowy figures leapt at him and he howled as the darkest one brought a glinting piece of steel down into his back. The other was lithe; as light as the warrior was dark and he pulled the bleeding and nearly unconscious woman to safety. Dark curls bounced wildly as he snarled and kept his attack up; bringing the steel balde down again and again into the auburn haired man, not caring where it struck as long as blood flowed in the wake of each slash. Making way to his fallen brother in arms he yanked the dark wraith up, tossing him back and growling as he pounced on top of him.

They struggled on the ground; snarling like wild dogs as they clawed and swung, fingers ripping skin and dislodging clumps of hair. Finally he was able to get him subdued with a resounding blow to the head. He drew his knife from his belt and moved to slash the fighters' throat but was stopped by a blow to the back of his head. He pitched to the side, the knife clattering away on the stone street. Before him stood the lithe shadow; his green eyes blazing as he helped the other stand. He tried to make a retreat as the green eyed hellion pulled the dark wraith to his feet. He didn't make it too far. As one they converged on him and pinned him to the ground, the one he had tangled with wrapping his smooth hands around his throat. He was immediately lost in the burning hate that radiated from the dark eyes.

"Why are you here? Why us?" He snarled, slamming his captives head against the ground.

Before he could utter one word the man on top of him was ripped away. Hunter held his hand out and helped him stand, blood coating his hands up to his elbows with splatter speckling his face. The village was eerily quiet and he looked around, surprised to see everyone congregated near them. The priest and his brother were talking in low tones as they regarded the two that Hunter had pulled off of him. Hunter drew his knife and held it out to him, snarling.

"Kill them."

The two men were forced to kneel. Though they looked humbled they snarled and fought; protesting loudly in the silence. Voices damning them all to hell and vowing revenge for the fallen bodies that littered the ground and dyed the tan dust crimson. The loudest was the one he had rolled on the ground on with, his deep voice ringing as he laid curse upon curse on their heads. Not that it mattered, only he and Adam spoke their language; after all at one time they too had been from this area. He stepped forwards and grabbed the dark haired one first, wrenching his head back. Blue and brown eyes locked; both smoldering, one in anger and the other is barely controlled lust as he took in the rapidly rising and falling chest. The knife fell from his hand and yanked him up, pulling him close and growling in his face. He swallowed; knowing what should have been done but unable to bring himself to humble the man the way it was customary for them to do.

"Do you accept that you have been beaten?" He forced out between clenched teeth.

"No." It was hissed, his voice laden with venom.

"Christopher, dispatch of him."

"No." Christopher turned and looked at Hunter, his eyes gleaming. "There's too much fight in him."

Hunter stepped up and grabbed the young man's face in his large hand, turning it this way and that to observe the way the light played on the chiseled features. He jerked his head away and spat in Hunter's face. Everyone stilled; their breaths held as they awaited the killing blow. Instead they startled when they heard him laugh.

"You're right. He'll make the perfect addition to my household." Hunter pushed him back into the priest and grabbed the lithe blonde that was still struggling against his captor. "You on the other hand, won't be so lucky." Hunter raised his knife again, but before the cold steel could draw crimson against the creamy white skin the priest grabbed his wrist.

"No, he is to be spared." He said quietly.


The priest roughly grabbed the blonde's hair and pulled it away, exposing the intricate design that ran from the base of his skull down into his shirt.

"He's been touched by the God's. To kill him will bring their wrath upon us."

Hunter nodded and moved back, surveying the ones that had been spared. They were all huddled together; frightened looks frozen on their faces as he moved close. One shrank back, his blue eyes wide as Hunter approached. His eyes darted to the two standing tall; it was apparent that the brown haired warrior and the blonde nymph were leaders of some sort to the village. Hunter grabbed the blue eyed, dark haired man and yanked him hard; smiling as he yelped in pain and collided with his chest. The warrior snapped and attempted to lunge at Hunter but the priest restrained him; his cold eyes glinting with laughter and malice.

"Adam, Mark." The auburn haired man and a blonde with startling blue eyes stepped forwards; their eyes hard as they waited for Hunter's command. "Take them to the ship and secure them."

Soon they were back aboard, the captives stored below with their hands and feet shackled and their mouths gagged with pieces of moldy cloth found in the recesses of the hull. The boat once more cutting cleanly through the water, nothing marking their presence but the smoke curling from the destroyed village. On deck each raider took turns visiting the captives; dominating them and leaving covered in blood and seed; physical proof of their reduced status. The only two that were left alone were the two fighters. Their glares and the words of the priest ringing in the other Viking's heads enough to grant them immunity from the raping of their fellow villagers. After dark Christopher snuck below, stealing quietly through the sleeping captives till he stood in front of the dark haired wild cat. Even in slumber he was beautiful and Christopher found himself possessed with the need to humble him; to make him submit to his will.

Roughly he grabbed him by the hair, yanking him up from his pallet on the floor. The man gasped and his eyes snapped open; a muffled hiss leaving his full lips when his chocolate orbs; glittering even in the dark gloominess, landed on Christopher.

"If you will go willingly with me, I won't subject you to what your village mates have been subjected too." He hissed quietly as he removed the gag from his mouth.

"I'll go nowhere with you willingly." He growled, trying to get free even though his hands were bound.

"Have it your way then. Let them watch as I take you like the cowardly woman that you are."

Christopher grabbed the top of his tight trousers, ripping them down violently. The young man whimpered before growling and twisting to the left; his need for survival so strong that he was still fighting despite being at the disadvantage. His resistance only served to ignite Christopher's blood, making him groan as he captured the man's lips and forced his tongue into his mouth. When he pulled away Christopher seen blood painting his lips a deep ruby color, the faint moonlight catching it and making it glitter. Whose blood it was he couldn't tell, but it only added to the wild picture that he painted; deep, dark tresses strewn wildly about his face, eyes glittering and blood glistening in the darkness. Christopher all but ripped his wool leggings down and with one hard thrust impaled the bound man, drinking in the pained cry that wrenched itself from his lips. The rocking of the boat enhanced Christopher's hard thrusts and it wasn't long before he emptied himself into his unwilling lover. Without waiting for himself to soften he pulled out and used the young man's ruined pants to clean the blood from his still twitching member.

There were tears in the corners of the captive's eyes, trailing down his cheeks to land silently on the slick wood flooring. He was still painfully erect and Christopher's eyes were drawn to the head that was covered in pearly white liquid. Before thinking about what he was doing, he bent his head and licked it away; bringing a tormented gasp from him. His hips bucked up and Christopher found his throat filled with the heavy organ as it twitched and throbbed. Christopher tried to back away but he found himself locked in by the man's strong legs. He struggled, gasping around the thick length; his eyes wide as the captive took control of the situation. He started bucking wildly, each thrust going deeper and deeper until he came with a cry; his scalding hot seed slipping down Christopher's throat. With one last thrust he unlocked his legs and Christopher stumbled back; spitting and gagging to bring up the slimy mess that was still trickling down his throat and settling in his stomach like a heavy stone.

The noise roused the blonde man tied next to him, his green eyes dull as he shook his head to clear the lingering shackles of sleep that clung to his brain. Christopher could see his jaw working around the gag and he sunk back into the inky blackness as the dark haired man scooted over and curled around him protectively. He started to whisper in the darkness, whether to lull the other man back to sleep or not Christopher didn't know and didn't stick around to find out. Back up on the top deck he stood, letting the cool autumn air whip around him; hoping that it would help calm his now raging thoughts. He had gone down with the intent to humble the fighter; to get some measure of payback but was shown that even when the odds were against him he still managed to turn the tables.

As the sun peeked over the hills Christopher's eyes were drooping closed. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up, nodding as Adam sat down besides him, his eyes glowing as he looked at the pale pinks and oranges that were painting the sky as the sun began to make it's trip upwards. No words were exchanged, but then again between them they didn't need words.

"It bothered you didn't it?" Adam asked softly, his head turning slightly so that he could look at Chris' from the corner of his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Chris growled.

"Is that why you waited for everyone to sleep before taking him?"

Chris closed his eyes, his own brutal capture and rape playing once more before his eyes. It wasn't that long ago that he had been in the dark warrior's position, no longer free and little more than a dog in the eyes of his Viking captors.

He had been working in the field when he heard the sound of screaming coming from town. He dropped his hoe and raced as fast as he could, tripping and scrapping the palms of his hands raw on the uneven ground. As neared the outskirts he could see smoke billowing towards the sky like grey fingers grasping at something that was just out of reach. A high pitched squeal made him jump and whirl around. There in an alley his sister was pinned up against the wall, a burly brown haired man slammed into her over and over again. It was only later as he lay in a pool of mixed seed and his own blood that he learned that the man was a priest.

"I've never….debased any of the one's I've taken captive." Adam whispered as he reached up and felt his throat were faint marks marred the skin from the leather collars that had proclaimed their status to all and sundry.

"H-he was my first." Christopher admitted, his mind coming back from the past and shutting out the screams of his family as they died while he had fought to save the.

They lapsed into silence, each one lost to the ghosts of their past as the boat drifted on the bobbing surf.