A/N: Thank you for all your reviews. Since I can't respond directly to guest reviews, my replies are here:
ATP: Unfortunately, I am not going to include all characters from Game of Thrones, and I'm afraid I don't have the space to include the ones you mentioned.
Batmd: Since I'm filling the timeline gap in Season 4 of Vikings, it will be quite a while (if ever) until we reach the big invasion of England. How this would turn out, I haven't quite decided yet...
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Chapter 53 Setting Sail
It was early spring, when the boats were being prepared for Bjorn's and Sansa's attempt to reach the Mediterranean Sea. Several dozen ships were in the fjord, their flags flying in the fresh breeze.
Men, women and children were walking all around the town, gathering the necessary supplies and loading it onto the ships. Rafts were being staked out to the ships anchored in the fjord, since the pier was already overflowing. A handful of ships had been pulled on the beach for last-minute repairs.
Oars were polished, axes, spears and arrows were stacked and barrels of ale and water were placed on the decks. The customary live ravens were stored in their cages, as well as food. Freshly painted shields were hung on the sides, and spare ropes and tools were put where they belonged.
"It is going well", Sansa said, overlooking the fjord swarming with activity. Bjorn was standing next to her, nodding in silent agreement.
A few days later, they were finally ready to set sail. On the day before, they had a huge feast, which included a sacrifice to Thor and Njord, asking the gods to grant them safe passage over the seas. Sansa and Bjorn said their goodbyes to their family, before continuing with the washing rite. Then they grabbed their gear and headed towards their ships.
The oars were pulling through the water, as they made their way out of the fjord. Once they reached the open sea, they pulled the oars in. The wind filled the sails and the sun smiled down on them.
The first thing Sansa noticed about this journey was how crowded the boat was. It was not much free space normally, but this time, in expectation of a long trip, all available room had been filled with supplies.
They sailed across the North Sea, and towards the Bay of Biscay. Carefully, they stayed in the middle of the narrow channel, cautious not to be noticed by either coast. Both shores were home to enemies, and neither Sansa nor Bjorn had intentions of fighting their way through the channel.
On the northern coast of the channel was the Kingdom of Wessex, ruled by King Egbert. Only Sansa knew that they would not be welcome there anymore, after King Egbert had destroyed the settlement. She was not keen on having anyone else know about this secret, and persuaded Bjorn not to stop here.
On the southern coast, passing in the distance to their left, was the Frankish realm. The Franks were their enemies ever since the first raid on Paris. Not that anyone blamed them, but they were not the problem. The problem was Rollo's own small kingdom on the coast, where he had been granted land by the Frankish Emperor. He would only too happily attack their fleet, and he certainly had the possibility.
Hiding in the mist, the ships slowly sailed through the channel. Everyone kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might try to intercept them. All of them were relieved, when they finally had passed the last edge of the Britannic peninsula. They had made it.
They went ashore to gather fresh supplies, before they were to make an attempt at crossing the Bay of Biscay. They set their sails and departed from the coast of Frankia.
"Is this me being nervous or is there a storm coming?" Bjorn asked Sansa, as both siblings watched the sky.
"I think you are right", Sansa mused, "There's a storm brewing."
"Prepare for a storm!" Bjorn ordered, "Tie everything down, make sure nothing is going overboard."
The Vikings quickly worked on preparing their ships. Finally, they were finished, not a moment too soon. They could already watch the waves rise higher and the first gusts of wind were pulling strongly on the sails and the masts.
The ship was rocking over the sea, while the crew was on the oars, rowing steadily in an attempt to stay on course. Sansa and the others were clinging desperately to the ropes, hoping to make it through the storm alive.
Sansa's body shivered from both exhaustion and cold, when the rain finally stopped and the strong winds subsided. Slowly, the waves grew smaller, and finally, the sea became calm again.
The fleet had been scattered, but luckily, during the next hours most of the ships got together again. Some were battered badly, others were nearly fine. They turned to the south, heading for land.
For a couple of days, they saw nothing but the empty sea. They headed south and west, along the course that Bjorn had read from the fragment of the map he had found in Paris. Hopefully, this course would bring them right to the edge of the country that had been named Hispania on the map. There they would turn straight south, until they would make their way to the East, into the Mediterranean Sea.
Finally, they reached land again. Floki was actually the first to spot it, and with a loud cry of joy he woke the others.
"Something is wrong here", Sansa reflected as her eyes wandered along the narrow stretch of land in front of them, partially hidden behind the banks of fog and clouds.
"What did you just say?" Bjorn asked. He had not paid much attention.
"I said, there is something wrong here", Sansa repeated, "What course are we sailing?"
"Between South and West", Bjorn shrugged, "Why?"
"Because, according to your map, Hispania's coast is running about straight west, with the sea to the north", Sansa reminded him, "If I'm not mistaken, that coastline is running south, with us approaching from the east."
Bjorn looked at the land for a while, then nodded.
"You're right", he finally said, "Where do you suppose we are?"
"Show me the map", Sansa demanded. Bjorn pulled the fragment out of his pocket and laid in on the deck. Both of them looked at the map for a moment, trying to figure out their next move.
"We could just have reached some sort of peninsula here on the coast of Hispania", Bjorn proposed.
"Possibly", Sansa admitted, "But looking at the distances, my gut tells me we are not in Hispania at all."
"What do you mean?" Bjorn asked.
"Well, our course should have brought us to the edge right here, shouldn't it?" Sansa asked, pointing at the map. Bjorn nodded.
"My guess is that we've missed the edge of Hispania entirely", Sansa explained, "Instead we have reached whatever land is to the west, about here where your fragment ends."
"Possibly", Bjorn admitted, "I guess there is only one way to find out."
The boats turned slightly, heading now for the land. As they came closer, they were able to make out more and more details. Neither Bjorn nor Sansa had ever seen land like this. The land was flat and even, and little vegetation grew there, except for shrub bushes all over. Occasionally, palms were towering over the sandy ground.
"I think I see a town back there!" Sansa cried out, pointing with her finger in the distance. As with the vegetation, the town was entirely different to anything that they had seen back home in Scandinavia, or even England or Frankia.
Sansa felt herself reminded slightly of King's Landing, although the town could hardly bare less resemblance to the Westerosi capitol. There was no castle, no harbor and barely fortifications. But still, the overall look of it, the predominant reddish mud bricks, it all reminded her of the city.
They beached the ships near the town and approached on foot. The northmen were ready to fight, each of them holding the weapons and shield at the ready.
"Don't forget, we need a prisoner to tell us where we are", Sansa reminded Bjorn.
"I know", he replied.
Unnoticed by most of the town's inhabitants, the raiding party walked to the open gate. The guards were quickly overpowered and the northmen continued into the city. At first no one seemed to notice them, then the air was filled with shrill shrieks and the sound of feet running over the dusty streets. Guards were bellowing orders and some were already moving towards the Vikings.
Sansa stabbed a guard in the face with her sword, then continued on her way. Bjorn shoved one aside with his shield, before his axe came crashing down on the guard's head. Floki blocked a spear with his hatchet, before driving his dagger in his opponent's throat.
Sansa was just barely able to hide behind her shield, when one of the guards hacked his sword at her. She could hear the blade scratching across the wooden surface, leaving a long streak in the red paint. With a loud cry, she lunged forward, hitting her opponent in the neck with her sword.
Slowly, the resistance in the town subsided. Women, children and old men were herded together by the warriors, some crying, others silently shivering with fear. Sansa and Bjorn had found themselves someone who they believed could help them with their navigational problem. A boy, almost a grown man, apparently from a noble or rich family. His clothes were of silk, decorated with rich embroidering.
Bjorn hissed in annoyance, when it turned out that the boy understood nothing of what they were saying. They tried both English and Frankish, but the boy just looked at them blankly. Sansa finally made a wide sweeping gesture, indicating their surroundings, looking at the boy. He mumbled something what neither of them was able to understand.
"Hispania?" Bjorn finally asked.
"Essos!" the boy corrected, now happy that he had been able to help.
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A/N: So, in case it isn't quite clear where they are:
In this story, Essos is positioned in the north Atlantic. Its easternmost coast would be about 700 kilometers west of the Iberian Peninsula (that's 434 miles for all that are using the imperial system, or 378 nautical miles), while the southern coast of Essos is about the same Latitude as the strait of Gibraltar.
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