Authors notes: So this is a second posting of my first Vikings fix. I deleted it years ago. Recently, I've reimagined where this was going.
I'm afraid my timeline is a little off, so I'd like to apologize right now! This story begins when they travel up the river in Northumbria.
I will try my hardest to keep the cannon characters accurate to their television depiction... But if I don't feel free to let me know, pm me, review me if you notice anything, I welcome the input and the help it can be!
Also, please bear with me. I haven't watched the show in a long time.
WARNING:
This story is going to be violent and bloody, I will post a specific warning at the beginning of each chapter where there is disturbing material.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Vikings only my ocs and their stories
All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying, "Where will we shelter or shall we sleep?"
The Northumbrian sun shone clear and bright, kissing the rolling fields with spring's warmth and melting away all remaining reminders of the frozen ice and snow that had covered the countryside just weeks ago.
The songbirds had traveled back to their summer homes among trees and hedgerows, their melodious tunes filling the air as they went about the busy work of rebuilding their nests. The woodcock and pheasant could be heard scurrying through the underbrush or seen leading their mates or families through fields and down paths as they searched for food. The ducks and geese returned to their marshy beds along the great winding river that curved through the heart of Northumbria, or to the marshes and ponds that dotted the countryside.
Other heralds of the change of seasons could be seen all around. The recently thawed ground filled the air with the earthy smell of rich soil, reminding everyone it was near time to plant. The first flora of spring popped up as if overnight, dotting the countryside with specks of white, pink, yellow, purple, and blue. Their sweet fragrance mingling with the smell of fresh earth and spring.
The winter had been a harsh one. At times, it had seemed as though the inhabitants of the single cabin sitting in a small clearing, just hidden from the river, were being punished by God's own hands in those bleak months.
At least that's what Ara had questioned, but only to herself. One didn't question God's plans, or why things happened, after all, to everything, there is a season.
It had been the same for almost all their neighbors. The heavy rains of the previous summer had stunted the growth of the crops. Deep snow had made winter game scarce, poor harvests had meant very few winter stores, and the taxes of their King had taken most all that was left. Ara had come through the winter a stone lighter, her two younger sisters had fared better, but they'd all eaten less than they could so the younger children of the household had enough food to keep them healthy.
Ara sat on the bank of the river, fishing line in the water. The sun warmed her pale skin and auburn hair, her course brown skirts hiked up around her knees, her toes dangling in the cool water, she contemplated all these thoughts and many more.
Her young sisters Bree and Sibley gathered last year's reeds from the water's edge. Their skirts hiked up and tucked into their belt's like Ara. Their loud girlish giggles filled the air as they went about their work, drawing Ara's attention. The sun glistened off Bree's vibrant red-gold hair, making it seem like she had a halo of fire about her head. Ara continued to watch them as always noticing that it wasn't only Bree's hair that seemed to glow, it was all of her. Her chocolate eyes and her happy smile.
Bree had only just passed her eleventh winter, but already she turned the heads of men. When she was a woman grown, she'd have her choice of men. Sibley was only nine, but she would be every bit as beautiful. A soft, amused smile lit Ara's face as she watched Sibley flick water at her sister with the end of a reed. The action elicited a loud peel of surprise from Bree, who promptly slapped the reed in her own hand, hard against the water splashing Sibley.
A sudden chill ran across Ara's spine, the fine hairs on her neck stood up as she watched her young sisters play. Another worry had begun to plague the people of Northumbria since the spring thaw.
The possible return of the Northmen.
Ara had personally never seen them but had heard the tales of the men and women that had. Those horrible accountings made her hope she never did.
The first tales had come from the Monastery of Lindisfarne, the Northmen came from the sea on the back of a great storm, in strange vessels, decorated with bright sails and colorful shields. These godless creatures had then entered the monastery itself, stealing treasures and whatever else they cared to. They'd murdered many of the monks and took others, loading them on their strange ship with a figurehead like a serpent and carried them away into the mist. Their last blasphemous disrespect to those holy grounds was to set fire to the buildings themselves.
That tale had spread throughout, not only, Northumbria but all of England. Everywhere people talked of these soulless men, labeling them pagan. Whispers of them being a sign of the end times followed the stories.
Some claimed them to be Giants of men, tall and broad, wielding axes, trained warriors the likes of which England hadn't seen in an age, maybe never. The stuff of nightmares. More gruesome than the old tales of the Celts from the north of Britain. These grotesque monsters from across the sea had eyes cold, devoid of emotion, they fought as though they had no fear. That, in fact, they seemed to relish the bloodshed and death.
Other stories had come, an attack on a village one Sunday morning. This time they entered the church during Sunday mass. Another tale came with that one, a battle on the beach, the sands had run red with blood, but not the blood of the soulless Northmen, it was English blood. Other stories had come with these tales, ones of rapes and beatings.
Rumors of women being carried off, of being misused in front of their families. Ara pushed the dread spiraling in her stomach away and willed her mind to other things, but not before she crossed herself and sent up a silent prayer.