Author's Note

I don't own history, mythology, or the History Channel's Vikings. However! I do own Aethelflaed, the main character, and her parents. I imagine Aethelflaed looking like Emilia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones.

Originally, I published this on Tumblr, but it's not receiving any attention so I'm publishing it here in the hopes that it'll receive the attention it deserves.

Chapter One

I picked up the shield that the Northern warrioress had tossed aside in the throes of battle and, when I was close enough, closed my eyes and swung it into our attacker's head. Once. Twice. Thrice. And I soon lost count. I only ceased my attack when female arms wrapped around me. Warily, I opened my eyes, but I didn't look around. I didn't want to see what we had done to our attacker so, instead, I looked at the woman who had come to my aid against one of her own. Deliberately, she released me and backed away, allowing me to get a better look at her.

She appeared to be unfazed by what had transpired, but then again, I was the one who had just killed someone. The only blood on her was from a broken nose she had received during the scuffle. I didn't even want to look at myself to see how much blood I had on me. She carried herself so much like a man that only her loose hair, hanging below her shoulders, betrayed that she was a woman. Her arranged yet disarranged hair was sporadically decorated with braids. And… are those chains in her hair? The rings were small, but linked, they made strands almost the length of her own hair.

Her appearance evoked the stories from my childhood. Freyja, I recalled. Half of those who die in battle go to her hall, Sessrumnir, in Fólkvangr. And the Valkyries, I also recalled, a host of warrioresses who brought the other half of those who die in battle to Odin's hall, Valhalla, in Asgard.

I wasn't any of those - a goddess… a Valkyrie… a shield-maiden… - and yet here I was, clutching a shield.

"Where's Knut?" one of the Northmen asked Lagertha once she rejoined their group. Watching the interaction, I stood out of their line of view, waiting to see what my next move would have to be. These Northmen are unpredictable. Or they're the predictable ones and I, the unpredictable… I shook my head as if to wave the thoughts away like insects, but that only caused stray strands of hair to fall into my face.

With an air of indifference, she stated, "He's dead."

He moved closer to Lagertha. "You killed him?" But… but… his reaction was just as unexpected. He rolled his eyes! Yes, there were subtle hints that he was angry, but he rolled his eyes…

"I would've if it had come to it."

"If you didn't kill him, then who did?"

My arms, particularly my fingers, throbbed because of the intensity of which I clutched Lagertha's shield. I tried to relax not only my fingers but my whole body. I couldn't. Lagertha gave me an encouraging nod and I finally stepped forward so that they could see me. Although my eyes were upon her, I could feel the eyes of the entire band upon me. What a sight I must've been - covered in dirt and blood, the blood of their comrade, now lying dead because he attacked the wrong woman (not that they seemed upset about it, but that observation did nothing to calm me); my worn clothes, now torn; my hair, once carefully braided, disheveled and tangling - among what was a peaceful Northumbrian town.

And I regarded them, too. Unlike me, they were well kept. The townspeople, who had been at Mass, hadn't put up much of a resistance. Not that they would've been able to do so even if they had been warned. They were simple townsfolk, not King Aelle's soldiers, but some of the Northmen still had their weapons drawn in case. It must've been a sight to see - a petite Saxon woman standing before a horde of large marauding Northmen.

"I did."

"You killed Knut?"

"This's Ragnar," introduced Lagertha, who had moved to stand beside me.

"I like her," one of the others announced. Ragnar gave him a look that told him to be silent, but it didn't deter him, "What? I do."

Lagertha continued to the introductions, "And that's Rollo."

So, this Ragnar isn't their leader? I wondered, noting Rollo's defiance. My knowledge of the Northern ways was lacking and outdated yet it was enough because they could understand me. Despite being able to communicate in their language, it felt strange on my tongue, but this was a strange day.

"It was in self-defense," I explained further, waiting in anticipation.

Ragnar, who had hardly looked away from me the moment I had stepped into their line of sight, spoke again. "You must be quite the shield-maiden."

"I don't know how to use a shield," I glanced at the one that I was still clutching, incorrectly I might add, by its rim, "but I will defend myself with whatever is handy when the need arises."

"Clearly." At the admiration evident in his voice, I started to feel the tingling sensation that would cast an embarrassing hue over my fair skin that would even penetrate the layer of filth covering it. It wasn't every day a man, a Northman, complimented me on my prowess in battle. His eyes twinkled. "How do you know our language?"

"My father was a Northman," I confessed. My family wasn't a topic I delved into. Wait. Prowess in battle? I'm not a warrior. I'm not even Northern. "He was a son of Hring."

"Hring was the name of a jarl of Götaland."

"It's him of whom I speak of."

"You're telling me that your grandfather is Hring, son of Gauti."

"Grandson of Odin, yes."

"How did he end up here?"

"How did you end up here?" I retorted. The murmurs among the Northmen transformed into laughs. I felt the corners of my lips twitch upwards, and the rest of my muscles unclench, as I resisted the urge to join in.

"We'll have to exchange stories when we have the chance." Suddenly becoming serious, he turned to Lagertha and asked, "Did you see it happen?"

"Yes."

"Earl Haraldson won't be happy."

Earl Haraldson? I wondered. He must be their chieftain, but of where? Where are these Northmen from? They've heard of Götaland, but they didn't say that Hring Gautisson was the name of one of their previous chieftains, so they're from somewhere else. And who is this Ragnar? He certainly has an air of authority. Does he hold a position of power and if he does, which? And what of Rollo's defiance?

"When is he ever happy?" countered Rollo. Ragnar nodded in agreement, annoyance plain in his movements, and started walking. The others followed.

"Why won't the Earl be happy?" I asked. Even though I hadn't verbally directed my question towards Lagertha, I looked at her expectantly, but it was Rollo who replied.

"Knut was his spy."

I stared at him and made an oh… sound. This chieftain's father must've been a great man for him to be known by his patronymic name rather than his personal name. Maybe it's for his father's sake that they're loyal to him despite his unpopularity among his own people.

"Are you coming, my shield-maidens?" Ragnar called over his shoulder. Lagertha followed him after giving me a brisk nod and Rollo a warning glance.

I'm a lot, "But I'm not a shield-maiden!" I muttered as I rejoined the group.

"Shield wall!" called Ragnar.

Shield wall? Wait… I'm holding a shield! I barely realized before someone maneuvered me into formation. Still feeling arms around my waist, I looked from side to side, finding Ragnar on one side and Lagertha on the other. Both were poised for battle. They must've seen my uncertainty because each wordlessly reassured me in their own way. I tried to return it, remembering my camaraderie with Lagertha, but I failed and returned my attention to the advancing soldiers.

The Saxon soldiers, a voice from within reminded me, that King Aelle has sent to protect his kingdom from these invaders.

These invaders, another voice spoke from within me, are also your people. They're just trying to survive in their world.

I closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for the onslaught. Silently praying to God, I wondered if I should pray to their gods, the gods I considered entertaining stories before I was sent to Hexham Abbey and an awful reminder of the fate of those who entertained such stories after. The clamor against the shields brought my eyes open and I saw an arrow burrow through Ragnar's shield a little too close for comfort. His and mine. Yelling drew my attention back to the Saxons, who were attacking in full force because their archery attack had failed. I closed my eyes again.

"Stand!" Ragnar ordered and I did.

The next command was to brace ourselves and our shields against the oncoming Saxons. I knew that I had to put all my weight, all my strength, into it. Was it going to be enough? I wondered. I was tired and sore from the trials I experienced over the last several days, from the fight with Knut to journeying several days from Hexham to where the Northmen had anchored their boat, carrying a shield the whole time.

"Open!" ordered Ragnar, who had removed his arm from my waist. I opened my eyes to see what was going to happen right before Lagertha maneuvered me to create a small opening between myself and Ragnar for the Northmen archers to attack the Saxons before closing again. I once again braced myself and Lagertha's shield against them. While Lagertha's arm stayed where it was, Ragnar's arm didn't wind itself around my waist again, but I had already decided that I was going to stay close to Lagertha because she was shieldless and I, weaponless. That is, in the Saxon sense, as shields weren't seen as weapons, like spears or swords. Like the ones that are clashing against the shield wall.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on Rollo's voice, on the poem he was reciting. It didn't help. But what would? I remembered my previous encounter with the shield in my arms and reminded myself that it had been a victory. When Rollo finished, I forced my eyes open. I couldn't fight with my eyes closed; I wasn't a warrior, but I knew that much. Instead, I clenched my jaws and concentrated on staying alive.

This time when "Shield wall!" was called, but by Lagertha, I was a little more prepared than the last time and maneuvered myself into position. The Northmen weren't going to allow the Saxons to gain the advantage. Lagertha, who was channeling Freyja again, and I were separated in the fray. I was swinging the shield with both of my arms. It didn't take me long to realize that my method of attack wasn't having the same effect as it did on Knut. The Saxons, unlike the Northmen, were wearing armor. Their helmets were protecting their heads from my method of fighting. Trying to maintain my concentration through the confusion of battle, dizziness, and pain, I started aiming for their jaws, which weren't protected. I was so engrossed that I scarcely had the time to understand what was happening before the shield collided with my head.

I woke up to sound, a combination of sounds, and slowly began to discern them.

There was buzzing. Not even bothering to open my eyes, I shifted positions to dissuade whatever insect that was bothering me from continuing to do so. The sound didn't fluctuate or stop, like it would have if the insect had moved. It was constant. Repositioning myself, I clamped my hands over my ears, but that also had no effect and I realized that the sound was coming from within my ears.

The buzzing was accompanied by throbbing. Since clamping my hands over my ears wasn't helping, I began to massage the sides of my face from my jaw to my temple and concentrated on distinguishing the sounds that the buzzing and the throbbing didn't quite cover. There was the whistling of the wind and the roaring of… But that can't be! My eyes flew open and were greeted by light so bright that it had to be from the sun. I immediately closed them and shielded my eyes with one hand while massaging my forehead with the other. A groan escaped my lips.

"Easy." I recognized Lagertha's voice. "You received many injuries."

"That explains it." I imagined her eyebrows furrowing and her lips forming a frown. "The pain… and… noise."

"Noise?" Lagertha's voice was concerned.

"The noise in my ears," I paused, remembering the other sounds. "And I thought I heard the roaring of waves?"

"You-"

You? Me? What? But before I could ask, I realized what had interrupted her. Footsteps were approaching us and I opened my eyes, still shielded by my hand, once they had stopped. I found Ragnar, with a smirk on his lips, looking down at me.

"You were right. You aren't a shield-maiden."

"Ragnar!" reproached Lagertha. He turned his attention to her. The same playful glint still in his eyes.

The corners of my lips curved up. No, I'm not a shield-maiden, I thought as I watched their banter.

Author's Note

I know I use shieldmaiden in the title and shield-maiden in the body. I prefer the shieldmaiden spelling, which is why I'm using it in the title, but I'm using shield-maiden spelling otherwise because it looks better in comparison to poet-maiden.

Also, no, I don't know when following chapters will be written.

Reviews are welcome!