Sweet Dreams.

 [Book One] Drakablöð Sögúr: An Eternal Hope

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Pendragon's Tidbits [A/N: Drabbles, paragraphs, etc.]

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TW: Blood, fear

He looked into her eyes and he saw kindness, the depth of which he had never possessed. But he saw something else, something he had never hoped to instill in her: fear.

When her eyes met his gaze, dampened by the splatters of blood, her chest filled with a deep sensation of terror as she saw the monster that she had sworn to everyone, even herself, he would never become.

An Eternal Hope: Summary

The world had ended once in Ragnarok, and was reborn into a beautiful paradise. But peace did not last long, and Vandr, Lord of All Evil, rose with his army of undead and set out to annihilate the lands. Were it not for the nine renowned heroes, the Drakahalr, Naernin would have fallen to darkness and chaos. The heroes lost their lives, and Vandr was prophesied to one day return…

But none of that is Valdyrbjalla’s problem.

At 16, she’s finally reached adulthood alongside her brother and sister, Jarl and Alfhildr, and the triplets long for glory; except, they only recently escaped from a hard life of thralldom and are now pirates, living in the dingy Black Markets of the searing deserts. Their entire life consists of only their small ship, cramped living quarters, and monotonous jobs. But Jarl wants to become an einherjar, and defend his country from orcish invaders. Alfhildr wishes to be a traveling bard, sharing her beautiful tunes in the halls of nobles. And Bjalla, however foolish it may sound, longs to become a dragonrider more than anything in the world.

And finally, their chance has come. The ancient light elf Keifdel Drakonsson and his dragon Vedthrelta, the leaders of the most elite force of warriors in the Æsír’s arsenal, the Drekivorðr, have just announced that they’re hosting a gladiatorial competition, the very first which allows the inclusion of criminals like herself– and the reward is fully-paid acceptance into the prestigious Hyveldirin Academy, plus a full pardon and a grand sum of coin. Elated but terrified to leave the relative safety of the Black Markets, she follows her siblings on an epic quest for freedom– which is where her problems start.

She’s constantly fearful of being taken by einherjerii, plagued with nightmares and reminders of the duke who was her owner. She’s small. She’s clumsy. She’s weak. She can barely lift her sword, let alone swing it. Walking for too long leaves her winded and dazed. And yet, she promised her mother that they wouldn’t compete unless they did it together. Now she’s going to be the end of her familys’ freedom if she doesn’t shape up.

But that’s not all. Her new teammates– Asbjorn and Mufnir (siblings), Reiyr and Ylette (twin elves), Zazyr (Keifdel’s own niece), and especially the rogue daemish dragonrider Hráfnfär make her nervous. Will they betray them? Will they leave them for dead in the arena fights? And gods, does the daemond have to be so interesting? Overcoming her trust issues is her second biggest problem.

The first is that there is required six month training before they can even start the arenas– and despite being stubborn enough to keep going until she drops, a little voice in her head (that sounds suspiciously like the duke’s) keeps insisting that no matter what she does, she will never be strong enough.

If anyone would like to be added, please let me know!

Hello everyone!

I'm Elaina Pendragon (my penname), and I write fantasy young adult novels! Book one is available on Amazon in all formats, and you can learn more on my TikTok!

Below is a sneak peek (click on the images for better quality), but soon I'll be releasing a couple of chapters as well, probably chapters 1-5, including the prologue. This story is a coming of age story, one about breaking free of the past. It's for fans of fantasy, dragonriders, character growth, semi-slow burn friends-to-lovers, angst, love triangles, "I will always protect you" vs "Touch her, and I will kill you," a dark and dangerous lover vs a gallant and mysterious lover, action, viking lore, foreshadowing, and a commoner-to-hero romance.

Book one is available on Amazon in all formats and may be released on the Tiktok shop as well (link below).

An Eternal Hope: Practice at Sea

Summary: With the blessing of their mother, the triplets are on their way to Izana so that they may depart for the Worldtree, where Gryphyn-Baskets shall await them; but first, their grandfather believes they need a bit of training...

Rating: 18+

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, blood, gore, descriptions of a hand wound, slavery, mentions of past trauma, fear of capture/torture

All rights reserved. This work has been copyrighted. No part of this book may be copied or used in any form. [Don't mind my crappy attempt at quoting my copyright page. I don't think I'm allowed to actually use it here. I don't mind reblogs or anything like that, but please don't repost without my permission and especially without credits to me. Thank you! <3 ]

Refer to the pronunciation guide or send me a message if you have any questions!

The next morning, we set out for Izana as though we were just going back to work, but there was an enormous sense of change aboard. None of us could bring ourselves to speak, so the only noise was the sound of the ship’s bow breaking the waves, which seemed too loud for the first time since we’ve been on the sea. We could only hope that Byardölf kept his word about the sandcrawler, and we wouldn’t have to use all of the two hundred coin bonus he’d given us before we even got to the Worldtree. 

   Other than the silence, I expected the trip to Izana to go as it always did; using Alf and Jarl’s combined genius of a rope-and-pulley system that allowed just one person (Jarl, at the moment) to work the sails alone, while a different system they had installed within the very walls of the ship allowed one person to work all six oars at once with a fair amount of ease. That left one person for the rudder, which I stayed well away from, after nearly wrecking us in a storm– twice. Otherwise, we’d take turns working these ingenious contraptions, while resting in-between.  

   But instead of my expectations, I was yanked out of reading when Grandpapa suddenly took the book out of my hands and snapped it closed. He proceeded to nonchalantly take Alf’s paper and pencil (which she was using to either design something new, or to write down a new song she’d thought up), and put both of our items in the chest beside the one that held all of our coin after work. He turned to Jarl, who worked the rudder. “Up. Hildegardr, you’ll have to take the rudder.” 

   “Uh…” Jarl warily stood, eyes darting to each of us in a silent question. He didn’t let go of the rudder until Nana had a good hold of it. Grandpapa looked down at Alf and I expectantly in turn. When neither of us moved, he said impatiently, “Up, both of you.” 

    “...Why…?” Alf asked slowly, though we were standing anyway. 

   “Because I said so,” Grandpapa replied plainly. He waited until the three of us were standing side-by-side in front of him, then continued. “We won’t be able to come with you on the Gryphyn-Baskets, I’m sure you realize.” I tried not to show any form of reaction, because no, I hadn’t realized. Suddenly, the trip to Vanaheimr seemed a lot less fun. “We’ll be at Izana in three days, where the three of you alone will set off for the Svartl Worldtree. Going into the competition knowing nothing about swordsmanship is foolish and reckless. These few days are all I’ll have to teach you the basics.” 

   Grandpapa drew our iron sword from its tattered frog at his hip. “We won’t use this. There’s only one, and even if there wasn’t, we don’t need to accidentally chop each other’s heads off.” He passed the sword to Jarnir for safekeeping; he seemed just as confused as we were, but only shrugged helplessly and went along without any questions. Grandpapa then reached into our chest of belongings and withdrew two well-carved wooden practice swords– we’d had them forever, but had never thought of using them; we’d never had the time, nor the energy, to practice. He hefted each of them, testing their weight I suppose, before tossing one to Jarl, who impressively caught it with one hand and no effort.  

  “Jarl,” Grandpapa pointed the tip of his sword at him in challenge. “You first, grandson. We need to work on your grip. No offense, but… it’s awful.” Jarl laughed, then waved his practice blade around a few times, testing its weight. “Let’s start with teaching you how to parry a basic downward swipe. Swing downward at me, slowly.” 

   My brother hesitated, then hacked downward in slow motion. Grandpapa lifted his sword and held it horizontally, palm on the flat of the mock blade, blocking Jarl’s harmless blow. “See how I’m holding my sword? I’m going to swing downward at you now, and I want you to raise your sword how I just showed you.” 

   Grandpapa and Jarl lowered their swords, then repeated the move in reverse. Jarl quickly raised his sword like Grandpapa had shown him, and Grandpapa smiled. “Well done. Now, let’s try it faster.” They did the move again, but Jarl was too slow. Both Grandpapa’s sword and his own slammed into his chest with a dull crack, knocking him backward. He fell to one knee, his eyes wide with shock as he struggled to breathe. 

    “Jarl!” Ma nearly leapt off of her seat.  

   Grandpapa raised a hand to stop her without taking his eyes off Jarl. “I only knocked the breath out of him. He’ll be fine.” 

   Ma pressed her lips into a firm line and watched with worry until Jarl shook his head clear of dizziness and stood, staggering slightly. “Wow, Grandpapa. You’ve got a hard hit…” He coughed, wincing as he massaged his sore chest. “Really hard...” 

   “Again,” Grandpapa ordered without hesitation. The two of them continued to repeat the move until Jarl could effectively block Grandpapa’s attacks, then they tried it even faster. When Jarl could block Grandpapa’s downward strike at full speed, it was Alf’s turn. Jarl, breathing heavily, slouched down beside me and closed his eyes. 

    Grandpapa faced Alf with his sword ready. “You saw what I did with Jarl.” Alf nodded in response, eyeing Grandpapa’s sword nervously. “We’re going to do the very same thing. I won’t go easy on you because you are my granddaughter.” His blue eyes narrowed meaningfully, and Alf nodded. 

    “I wouldn’t ask you to,” she said, and they began. 

   Alf and Grandpapa started the move in slow motion, just as he had done with Jarl, before repeating it until Alf had almost mastered it; she was quicker in learning, having watched Jarl’s lesson closely. By the time they were done, Alf was panting and dragging her sword behind her, and Ma was very concerned. “Don’t give me that look,” Grandpapa told her firmly with a stern glance. Alf sat down beside Jarl, huffing with exhaustion. “It’ll be a lot worse for them if they get no training.” Grandpapa whipped around and jabbed his sword in my direction. “Your turn.” 

    I slowly lifted up the wooden sword (which was, sadly, very heavy for me) and held it in front of my face vertically, as best as I could. “I’m not here.” 

 “Bjalla!” snapped Grandpapa in a warning tone, making me jump to my feet immediately. “We don’t have much time.” I mumbled an apology, face burning with embarrassment.  

   We faced one another; slowly, he brought his sword down at my face. I lifted my sword to block it, just like I’d watched Jarl, then Alf do– but I wasn’t strong enough to even try and block him. Grandpapa frowned when he realized that he was able to push my sword down, despite the fact that I was straining to keep my sword still– with both hands. 

   “Again,” Grandpapa ordered, and we did it a second time; but this time, he was able to knock my sword away entirely before swinging the tip of his own up to meet my throat. 

     Jarl burst out laughing. “You-You can’t even–” He started laughing even harder and fell onto his side, joined by Alf; she covered her face, wheezing hard. Ma glared at them. 

   “Both of you, stop it.” 

    Dejectedly, I slumped over. “Well, Drakonsson’s gonna take one look at me and send me home...” The possibility was serious enough to make me worry. If Alf and Jarl can’t compete because of my weakness, what will happen? How will they react? 

  “That’s nonsense,” Grandpapa said firmly. “There are plenty of people, I’m sure, who will have trouble lifting swords high, or even lifting them at all, in the competition. You have to remember, most of them were rogues, criminals, and thralls, like us, who may never have learnt any skills either. And there are dozens of other weapons to work with. Bows, for example.” 

   I scoffed. Byardölf once had a bow in his smithy that needed a new nocking point and grip, and Byardölf had tested it after we’d fixed it to ensure the quality of the weapon hadn’t been tampered with by repairing it. I wanted to try, and could hardly pull the string back to nock an arrow. And when I’d loosed it, the arrow didn’t even hit near the target. It fell harmlessly to the ground and the string smacked into my fingers so hard it had left cuts to the bone. “You obviously forget the time I tried one at Byardölf’s smithy...” 

  Grandpapa huffed, irritated, and when he began speaking with his hands, started flinging his mock-sword around dangerously without even thinking about it. “Well, maces, daggers, axes, scimitars, crossbows; there’s a number of weapons out there. If you’re not good with swords, even after a few weeks of training, try something else.” He held up his sword in front of his chest, the flat of the blade facing me. He held his free hand up against the side of the sword facing his chest. “Strengthen your stance, plant your feet firmly, and remember to hold it like this; you won’t cut your hand, and you’ll have extra strength to push back with. You saw my example earlier, didnt you? Pay attention. Of course, don’t do it without thinking, because you could accidentally grab the sharp part of the blade, and risk cutting your hand in two.” 

   I visibly flinched at the mental image that gave me. Alf and Jarl, on the other hand... “Do it, do it, do it,” They chanted in perfect sync with broad smiles; I scowled at them, but that only made them want to do it more, until Ma silenced them with a harsh command. 

   “Lets try the move I just showed you,” Grandpapa ordered, more gently this time, “Try and keep your sword up, no matter how hard I push.” He slowly swung his sword downward, and I brought my own up, holding it like Grandpapa had showed me. 

  It was only after he started pushing again, all the pressure on my sore hand, that I remembered the gash on my left palm. I almost let go of the sword, then forced myself not to; of all the injuries I could get in the arenas that I’d have to keep fighting with–stabs, gashes, severed limbs– a cut on the hand didn’t seem so bad. 

   Grandpapa pushed on my sword even harder, and as I pushed back, the cut on my hand split back open. I bit my lip to silence my yelps, and kept my stance, refusing to be weak. I cannot enter this competition weak. I cannot enter this competition weak. Grandpapa and I stood like that for several moments, until he finally smiled and stepped back. “Well done.” 

   I staggered forward. When I steadied myself, I held up my shaking, bandaged hand. The bandage and the sleeve of my jacket were soaked through with blood, freely dripping down my hand and arm and leaving a good-sized splat on the deck. My vision swam and my stomach churned. Better learn to get that under control... 

   “Bjalla!” Nana yelped. 

   Grandpapa blinked at me a few times, dumbfounded, before looking at the wooden sword he held accusingly. “...Did... Did you cut your hand on the practice sword? ...On wood?” 

   Ma practically bowled me over in checking my “wound,” making me chuckle a little despite the sheer throbbing pain pulsing up my arm. “Oh, I didn’t mention this? Yeah, I cut myself on Byardölf’s new dagger the other day.”  

   Ma scowled at me, but it was quickly replaced with worry. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me off to one end of the ship, out of everyone else’s way. “Come over here. We need to rebandage it.” 

   Grandpapa swatted me upside the head. “I completely forgot about that. You shouldn’t have pushed back so hard with an injured hand.” After Ma had rebandaged my cut, Grandpapa and I continued to repeat the move until I could do it... Somewhat easily. I never came close to Alf or Jarl’s level of strength or resilience. 

  For the rest of the day, Grandpapa taught us the basics of parrying, dodging, and attacking, only giving us breaks when we needed to eat, rest, or, in my case, rebandage my damn cut, which happened too many times for me to count. By sunset, I felt more worn out than I had in years. My legs felt like lead, my back hurt, my head hurt, my chest hurt, and my sword arm was throbbing painfully. Every bone in my body felt like it was going to splinter– and from the way Alf and Jarl were wincing and hobbling to their bedrolls, they felt the same way I did. 

    By the time Izana was in our sights, I felt twice as badly, and we were covered in welts and bruises. Eventually, Grandpapa told Alf and Jarl to practice on one another under his supervision, leaving me to spar with him. 

  “You won’t be able to practice on the Gryphyn-Baskets,” Grandpapa muttered quietly to us as we readied ourselves for bed. “And I’m guessing the rest stops for the passengers will be short, since you can eat and sleep in the baskets themselves. Be sure to use every break you do get for practice.” 

   Without much else to say, us triplets collapsed onto our bedrolls, falling into heavy, deep sleep.

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, send me a message! If you'd like to read the full novel, you can find the link to it on the bottom of my masterlist.

Silly little post

she do a little twirl at you (and then you die)

Wip!

After several tests with watercolors, I chose to make this with ink, I don't like the effect of watercolor on this paper

Today I worked on the lineart and I can't wait to complete it, I haven't chosen whether to do it in color or black and white, but I will definitely use some copic!

I really want to add gifs to each part of my stories when they're up but??? Who am I supposed to use exactly???

Pronunciation Guide:

Drakabloð Sögur: DRAK-ah-BLODTH SOH-gur

Valhöll: VAL-holl

Alfheimr: ALV-hey-MUR

Ljósalfar: LYOS-al-VAR

Dökkalfar: DOCK-al-VAR

Svartalfheimr: SVART-alv-hey-MUR

Svartalfar: SVART-al-VAR

Íssalfar: EES-al-VAR

Jötúnheimr: YOET-oon-hey-MUR

Hýrralfar: HYEER-al-VAR

Múspellheimr: MOOS-pell-hey-MUR

Skögralfar: SKO-gur-al-VAR

Grœnnfell: GROEN-vell

Vanír: VAN-eer

Vanaheimr: VAN-a-hey-MUR

Þokalfar: THOK-al-VAR

Nídavellír: NEE-da-VELL-eer

Nærnin: NAYR-nin

Seiðberendr: SAYDTH-ba-REN-dur

Seiðragaldr: SAYDTH-ra-GAL-dur

Fafnir: FOV-neer

Vaeryn Téhlladen: VAY-rin TAY-la-DEN

Zephysus: ZEH-fi-SUS

Höddgardr: HOD-gar-DUR

Kuningaz Xekaara: KOO-ning-GAHZ za-KAR-ah

Raameshaz: rah-MEH-shaz

Hemaara: HEY-mar-AH

Zou’maal: zoo-MAHL

Ne’daag: NAY-dahg

Tal’mar: tal-MAR

Friðrs: fridth-THURS

Iilr: EEL-urs

Bilfjord Beast: bil-FYORD beest

Skjelkii: SKYEL-key

Fjorlagforað: fyor-LAG-vor-ADTHS

Nornadäg: NORN-uh-DAHG

Súnadäg: SOON-uh-DAHG

Múnadäg: MOON-uh-DAHG

Týrsadäg: TEERS-uh-DAHG

Wodensdäg: WO-dens-DAHG

Thorsadäg: THORS-uh-DAHG

Friggsadäg: FREEGS-uh-DAHG

Niflheimr: NIFL-hey-MUR

Hvergelmír: HVER-gel-MEER

Elivagar: EL-iv-AH-gar

Svöll: SVOL

Gúnnthra: GOON-thra

Fjörm: FYORM

Fimbulthúl: fim-BUL-thool

Slíd: SLEED

Hríd: HREED

Sylg: SILG

Ylg: ILG

Vid: VEED

Leipt: LAYPT

Gjöll: GYOLL

Ginnúngagap: GI-noon-GA-gahp

Ymir: EE-meer

Aurgelmír: ARE-gel-MEER

Audhumla: ODD-hum-LAH

Buri: BUR-ee

Börr: BOR

Bergelmir: BER-gel-MEER

Ask: OSK

Embla: em-BLAH

Sol: SOL

Mani: MAHN-ee

Bil: BEEL

Hjuki: HYOO-kee

Hati: HAH-tee

Sköll: SKOLL

Yggdrasíl: IGG-dra-SEEL

Hraesvelg: HRAYS-velg

Nídhöggr: NEED-hog-UR

Ratatösk: RAT-at-OSK

Modsognir: MOD-sog-NIR

Durin: DUR-in

Æsír: AY-seer

Frey: FRAY

Valfreyja: VAL-frey-YAH

Heimdallr: HEYM-dall-UR

Bïfröst: BIE-frost

Baldr: BAL-dur

Nänna: NAHN-nah

Ragnarök: RAG-nah-ROHK

Fimbulvetr: FIM-bul-VEYTR

Fenrisúlfr: FEN-ris-OOL-fur

Jörmúngandr: YORE-moon-GAHN-dar

Naglfar: NAHGL-var

Vígrid: VEE-grid

Gjállarhorn: GYAE-lar-HORN

Einherjar/Einherjerii: AIN-her-YAR/AIN-her-YAER-ee

Valhalla: VAL-hall-AH

Surtr: SUR-tur

Líf: LEEF

Lífthrasir: LEEF-thray-SEER

Gimlé: gim-LAY

Brimir: BREE-meer

Okolnír: oh-KOL-neer

Sindri: SIN-dree

Nidafjöll: NEED-ah-FYOL

Nastrond: nas-TROND

Drekivörðr: DREK-ee-VOR-dthur

Vandr: VAHN-dur

Rígurd: REE-gurd

Dögúl: DOH-gool

Bïfröstblaða: BIE-frost-BLADTH-ah

Sígarsholm: SEE-gars-HOLM

Galdyrbrynja: GAL-dur-BRIN-ya

Gleipnír: GLEYP-neer

Ellída: el-LEE-da

Vaettrhaerr: VAY-tur-HAYR

Izana: AYE-zan-AH

Fjörr: FYOR

Byardölf: BYARD-olv

Jarnir: YAR-neer

Alfhildr: ALV-hil-DUR

Rúnhildr: ROON-hil-DUR

Hildegardr: HIL-de-GAR-dur

Jarl: YARL

Skídbladnír: SKEED-blahd-NEER

Hneflagi: HNE-flah-GEE

Myennr: MYEH-nur

Keifdel Drekínalen: CAVE-dell drek-EE-nah-LEN

Vedthrelta: VED-thur-EL-tah

Lydia: lid-AYE-ah

Feldûrröst: fel-DOO-rost

Fjoðrbrandr: FYO-dthur-BRAN-dur

Asbjorn: AZ-bjorn

Zazyr: ZAZ-ur

Hráfnfär: HRAE-vin-VAR

Valdyrbjalla: VAL-dyur-BYAL-ah

Dàlr: DAH-lur

Múfnir: MOOV-neer

Ylette: YIL-ett

Reiyr: RAI-ur

Denris: DEN-ris

Laefden: LAYF-den

Alyr: AH-lyur

W’ei: wuh-AY

Aallviinaax: ALL-vee-NAX

Norðrljós: NOR-dthur-LYOS

Bleiðarak: BLIE-tha-RAK

Ornúsüm: OR-noo-ZOOM

Iirvaedín: ur-VAY-deen

Araelys: uh-RAY-lis

Ómakligr: OO-mok-LEE-gur

Eljúðnir: ael-YOODTH-neer