Reincarnated In Vikings

The morning sun poured through the open windows, its golden rays slicing through the remnants of shadow in the room. Merlin groaned as he stirred, his head pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat. The after effects of too much mead from last night's revelry with Atlanta weighed on him.

As his senses sharpened, he became aware of her warmth pressed against him. Atlanta lay sprawled atop him, her bare skin glowing in the sunlight. Her head rested against his neck, her breath soft and steady. Her boobs were squished against his chest, and her legs were tangled around his. Merlin's hand instinctively trailed down, cupping her ass, which was soft, plump and firm under his fingers. He kneaded it gently, drawing a sleepy, sultry moan from her lips.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he gazed at her. Atlanta looked so serene in her sleep, her dark curls framing her face like a goddess out of myth. Reluctantly, he shifted her aside, careful not to wake her. Summoning his magic with a subtle wave of his hand, his clothes materialized in a swirl of light, dressing him in moments.

Merlin padded softly to the kitchen, his bare feet tapping against the cool stone floor. With another flick of his wrist, the kitchen came alive. Pots and pans moved of their own accord, ingredients floated from shelves, and the aroma of freshly prepared food filled the air.

He settled at the dining table, waving his hand again. A steaming cup of coffee floated gracefully into his grasp. He took a sip, savoring the rich, robust flavor as he leaned back, letting the morning quiet envelop him.

Atlanta's soft yawn broke the silence. She strolled into the kitchen, her presence commanding despite the casual intimacy of the moment. She was wearing a nightgown

in an elegant pink hue. Made from a silk blend, the gown has a lustrous, smooth texture with a glossy sheen.The design is minimalistic with a scoop neckline and fine spaghetti straps, offering a classic and refined silhouette. Its fabric clinging to her curves with effortless elegance. The soft silk shimmered in the light, accentuating her every movement. On her right arm, the Nandi Astra bracelet gleamed faintly, a reminder of her warrior spirit beneath the playful exterior.

Atlanta had a penchant for indulgence. She loved wearing sexy pieces like lingerie and bikinis, treasures Merlin often conjured for her amusement. The House of Mystery, ever-shifting to her whims, was her haven. It had crafted her a personal smithy equipped with a magical furnace and enchanted tools—an artisan's paradise for someone as skilled as Atlanta.

Merlin's gaze lingered as she approached, his lips curling into a smirk. "So," he began, setting his coffee down, "are you moving in today?"

Atlanta slid into the chair beside him, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she reached for the coffee cup that floated effortlessly into her hand. She sipped, savoring the warmth, and smiled back at him. "Yes," she replied, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. "But I need to fetch a few things from the village."

Merlin nodded, his expression softening. "I'll help you out," he said, his tone rich with quiet assurance.

Merlin went with Atlanta to gather some of her stuff, the dimly lit Smithy is alive with the dying embers of molten steel, casting flickers of orange light across stone walls lined with weapons and ancient tools.

Merlin was looking around as Atlanta was going aroung checking everything, her chainmail leotard like armour gleaming faintly in the dying embers of the fire she had extinguished earlier. The intricate metalwork hugged her body, unapologetically showcasing her curves—her toned thighs, the sway of her hips, her breasts subtly rising and falling with each labored breath.

Soot smeared her armor and streaked her face, blending with the beads of sweat that trickled down her skin.

Suddenly—A faint whoosh.

Merlin stops. From the sky above, a delicate paper bird emerges, wings fluttering like a living creature. Its movement is hypnotic, graceful—a piece of magic suspended in time. The intricate origami folds catch the warm forge light, casting tiny golden glimmers onto the ground as it soars in perfect arcs. Atlanta watches, wide-eyed.

The paper bird spirals down like a falling leaf, soft and deliberate. Merlin stretches out his hand, palm upward. The bird slows mid-air, then lands gently, as if exhaling its final breath.

A flicker of recognition crosses his sharp features. He quickly unfolds the paper and reads it.

Atlanta stepping closer, voice curious."Who is that from?"

Merlin's gaze lingers on the words, his brow furrowing before he huffs a quiet chuckle, the tension easing. Without looking up, he responds."It's from Horus. Egyptian god of the sky."a beat, smirking to himself."He invited me to his coronation weeks ago… which happens to be today."

He looks up, his amusement met with Atlanta's bemused stare crossing her arms, raising an eyebrow."And why did the letter take its sweet time getting here?"

Merlin folds the paper back with a flick of his hand, the bird reshaping itself briefly before dissolving into golden sparks that float upward, vanishing into the air.

Merlin calmly, with a knowing smile."Magic. Horus enchanted it to find me, but we were inside the House Mystery, which has one of strongest barriers that prevent tracking or scrying."

He steps forward suddenly, catching Atlanta off guard. With a swift, roguish charm, Merlin tilts her chin up and presses a quick, tender kiss to her lips and grinning as he pulls back.

"Come with me?"

Atlanta exhales sharply, shaking her head with a tired laugh and half-teasing, wiping soot from her face."Not this time, Merlin. I've had my share of gods and battles for sometime. Besides…"gesturing to her disheveled armor."Meeting gods covered in sweat and soot isn't exactly a great first impression."

Merlin chuckles, his eyes gleaming with affection and softly."Next time, then."

Atlanta watches as Merlin steps away, his silhouette framed against the glow of the forge. He raises his hand, and a portal begins to unravel—a swirling vortex of sapphire and gold forming in the air.

With a final look back, Merlin offers a small salute."Try not to miss me too much."

And with that, he steps through the portal. It collapses behind him with a whoosh, leaving the Smithy in silence—save for the faint crackling of the forge fire.

Atlanta smirks to herself, shaking her head before turning back to the anvil, the golden sparks of the bird's remnants still shimmering faintly in the air.