The news reached the core of the kingdom of Northumbria that an army led by two sons of Ragnar had defeated that of a few nobles from the north of the land and that they had sworn loyalty and oath of obedience to the Northmen. Across town, all were scandalized and people eagerly called those who chose to submit traitors and cursed their names, hoping they would see Hell. The rest of the Northumbrians would not yield they swore, they would resist.
What was done was done, though and in a day, Aelle lost a quarter of his kingdom while he was away, fighting in Wessex. Now the kingdom was caught between northmen south and northmen north. They were trapped and their king was away, vulnerable to death and peril. Darker times had come, and those clouds of ill omen promised doom for the kingdom.
Fear spread across the countryside and now was the time for paranoia and terror, as people anxiously waited for the northmen to come and slaughter them. It felt as though the Apocalypse was upon them and nowhere was safe anymore.
Behind the walls of the stronghold of Northumbria, in the royal palace in that city protected by new walls, most welcome in those dark times, was Heluna, with her mother, sisters and brother, who would one day inherit the throne and its burdening crown. Leaving to wage war with his son-in-law, Aelle chose not to bring his household with him, for his eldest daughter was there and he had enough with her to last years.
It was calm in the palace, as calm as when a battle was to arise and both armies waited for one to attack. Heluna's mother was in the common room of the palace, reading a letter while her only son was playing chess with his tutor in a corner of the room, and his sisters were weaving some tapestry next to their mother.
"Any news of father?" asked one of the girls.
The queen sighed and put the letter away. "Scarce news, I am afraid."
"Do you think he knows about the northmen?" asked the prince.
"Your highness, guard your king." replied the teacher.
The prince focused back on his game of chess while the queen took a tapestry for her to keep her fingers occupied, but also not to fidget them about, nervous about the outcome of her husband's endeavors and the sake of this kingdom she was born in, for her daughters' sake facing the dread of the Northmen from both sides. Now, the only way for them to be safe was to seek help in Mercia or worse, to the Scots. She feared for her daughter in Wessex, and she feared for her daughters in Northumbria. She feared for their holiness and virtue, for she knew what tales they told about them and women and how they ravished pretty girls. Heluna was old enough for marriage, her sisters were not.
The queen gave a heavy breath. Of all the children she had borne, only five remained. She cared for them all the more.
Heluna gazed at her mother, wondering what could trouble her mind before she realized that her thoughts were, like hers, lingering upon the Northmen. "What news of father?" she asked.
"They have won a slight victory in Wessex. He is aware the sons of Ragnar have come here too and shall depart as soon as possible to come hither and defend our shores from those heathens. He has the support of Aethelwulf upon this but I think he does not know about the turning of tide we recently abode by." she said. "We will need strong alliances to overcome this. And even if we cannot prevail..." no. They had to prevail. For God's sake and that of her children, Aelle would prevail, even if it meant bargaining her son and selling her daughters. The kingdom came first.
"I have heard of those sons of Ragnar." said Heluna. "I have heard they came to avenge their father's unfair death."
"Nothing was unfair about this." the queen coldly said. "It was only justice for years of darkness spread upon us."
"Judith laid with one. What can you say about it?" Heluna seethed, angered.
The queen softly sighed and put her work away. Judith had been her first; the first to have survived. Judith had always been her favorite and she sold her still to Ecbert and his son who cut her ear for adultery. She had embraced it but had never quite forgiven her husband who insisted upon this marriage. Had Judith stayed here, nothing would have been lost.
"Judith is there. We are here." she said. "Ragnar's death was necessary for our well-being. His sons' death is necessary for yours."
"No death is fair if a trial is not held first." Heluna said. "Ragnar Lothbrok should have been tried. They speak of great kings in the bible and all are fair."
"A woman mustn't speak so boldly about religion." the teacher scoffed. "A woman must listen and weave, breed children when asked to and abide by God."
Heluna sighed. "If so you must say." before she wove that tapestry back. She knew what laid before her in the future. She would wed a Saxon king, carry his children, let him spread his venom upon her when he would feel the need to and give her voice away, always complying to orders, always listening to the society of men. Such was her future; a shadow.
She didn't want to be a shadow, a mere fleeting face in the narrative. She longed for her voice to be heard. She longed for her words to be listened to, reckoned and taken in account. She wanted to matter to someone, to a kingdom. She wanted respect from her society. She wanted to be a queen fit to stand beside a king but also to rule on her own. If her father married her off to someone, she wanted him to respect her. She was no stupid girl. She was clever and she knew it damn too well.
She had heard about those sons of Ragnar. She had heard one crawled like a snake bearing a face that seemed carved in a cold marble; that he was as cruel as he was beautiful, that he killed for the pleasure of blood and that his voice hid promises of death. She heard that what he lacked in legs, he had in cleverness.
She had also heard of the other one, just as handsome as his brother, only they said his beauty was that of a comely prince with cascading blond hair, fair eyes and full mouth. They said he was the child of spring, but that a snake slept in one of his eyes, that his venom was just as terrifying as his brothers'. Sometimes, people pretended that the snake in the prince's eye was his brother who fueled him with his own anger. They said his sight alone could turn a man to stone, that when angered, he was just as horrifying as his brother. They said that whoever crossed his path would get eaten by the serpent, unless it was his brother.
They said many things about those two, the youngest of Ragnar's sons. They said they were young but just as fierce as their kin. They called them giants; they called them gods. They were two snake brothers, avenging their father's death from a pit of serpents. If there was something beautiful to ponder about such a man's death, it was this.
Heluna stood up from her seat, bearing the tension no longer and walked to a window, her strides echoing throughout the room under her mother's disapproving eyes, her long dress dragging on the stone floor. She gave a gentle smile to her little brother who returned it. They had always been close. When they were younger, they used to play together, until she was taken away to spend her young years with other respectables ladies who became her maids of honor. She was no queen yet and could but have a few of them, but they were good and wise. Heluna had always taken clever girls in affection.
She sat by a window and gazed at the horizon, the endless fields of Northumbria, the forests, its valleys and hills, its rocks and wilderness. It was a fine country. She glanced at the city below, the scarce farms amidst the fields, its people so calm and placid. She watched over the peace of it and sighed. It was a shame, she thought, that a flock of heathen should have come here to ravage it all. It was a shame, especially because her father was the cause of it. Had she have a say, she would have ask a trial to be held, but she had not and her father had told her that a woman mustn't interfere with state affairs; and she had accepted it, shut her voice and concealed this storm that brewed inside of her. It was a matter of survival in court; to shut it and be obedient.
"When your father return, he shall marry you. You reached this age." the queen said. "You are a woman, now. You must act as such."
Heluna had always thought her purpose as a warden to her kingdom. She had always wanted to protect it and be hailed holy by her people like that Frankish princess they spoke of, although she married a heathen herself. She wanted what was best for her country. She wanted peace for them, and if marriage was the only way to that purpose, then "So be it." in her mouth, it resembled a death sentence.
"An alliance with Frankia would do us good." the queen sighed. "I will see that a message is sent to your father to urge him back and send an envoy to the Frankish king in Soisson."
Heluna said nothing, sitting by the window, gazing in the distance, to those fields of golden grain that it seemed were on fire. Surrounded North and South, it seemed as though Northumbria would not survive and there was nowhere to flee. Heluna was trapped; trapped by armies and trapped by her condition. She was like those ancient princesses she had been told about trapped between brothers and enemies, but she lacked the courage to go forth her fears and claim what she longed for, to be a maid fierce enough to stand between armies and command peace.
"Once I am married, all will be better." she tried to convince herself.
Angrboda woke up suddenly, covered with sweat, her heart racing in her chest. She looked around as to make sure she was safe and not trapped in the nightmare she just had. She gave a sharp breath and tried to relax by carving a piece of wood while humming herself a song Helga used to sing when she was scared of thunder. Once her heart regain a moderate rhythm, she listened around the clatter of men training, cackling of geese and chicks, brouhaha of men and women chatting either in Saxon language either in Norse or Dane.
Beorthric had offered to shelter Ivar and Sigurd's army in his fortress and although his people disapproved, they were soon delighted to see that once the Northmen were rid of their bellugerent appetites, they were all the more civil and strict with themselves. Many were the women to swoon over how clean and fresh the men of the North were, and how refined they often wished to appear.
The princes, as well as Eystein and other kinglets or jarls slept within the castle while the rest of the army slept in tents, protected from the cold harsh wind by walls. Nevertheless, Angrboda wrapped herself in thick furs, almost purring at how warm she felt.
"Did you have a bad dream?" Siggy asked as she entered the tent with a hot beverage. "I heard you humming that song." she gave her the bowl.
Angrboda smiled and sipped with delight this warm thing that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. "I dreamed of fire." she said. "It is always the same since we left. It does not make any sense."
Siggy sat on her raw bed and began to carve her own piece of wood. "Tell me still."
"Are you sure you do not wish to be with the men? Training?"
Siggy shrugged. "Horek is still lurking around. I cannot show my face to him."
"And Guthrum?"
"Busy talking with Sigurd and Ivar about what to do next. Eystein is with them and Gye is with them, ensuring Ivar does not kill her beloved prince." Siggy scoffed.
Angrboda sipped a little more of the beverage and sighed. "Why am I always making the same dream? Why do the gods torment me with such horrible visions? What do I see? What does it mean?" she grew bitter and melancholy. "If Aslaug was here, I could have asked her. If she had been alive she would have given me guidance." she shed a tear. "I miss her. I miss her wisdom."
Siggy scoffed. "Wisdom? She abandoned me! She abandoned Sigurd! She was a selfish woman and I am glad she got what she deserved. She should be forgotten." her rage festered in the tent like venom.
Angrboda's eyes grew dark. "Shut up." she coldly said, gritty. "You are just as selfish as herself, wallowing in your self-pity! Do you know what it is to care for a disabled child, a household and a kingdom? No! She had slaves for one thing but only herself for the rest. She was an admirable woman desiring to take care of her children herself and take care of her kingdom because she knew that no one would ever do her part as well as her! You are blind! Blind! She did not abandoned you! Her slaves did! Bjorn did! Your mother did! Lagertha did!" she stopped, shaking with ire. "You know nothing of what she has been through! You only care about yourself!"
Siggy was agape and hesitated between anger and shame.
"I loved that woman! She told me everything I know! She taught me what I need to heal your sorry ass! She did more for you than you can think but your anger turned yourself against her now and then! She begged your forgiveness, but you were too stupid to see it!" Angrboda gave a sharp breath and frantically wiped off a tear from her cheek. "I will not be quiet as you insult her. She was my mother's friend. She delivered me. She was generous, but you don't see it because it was not directed only to you." she stood up. "You are a selfish woman, Sig. It is time you change your perception of the world."
"I am not selfish!" Siggy yelled. "The others are! They abandoned me!"
"I never did." Angrboda seethed. "And yet you mock my pain and my love for women you hate because you can't bear others to love them." she stood up. "You're a child. It is time you grow up." before Siggy had as much as a second to reply, she left the tent and walked out of the fortress towards the forest nearby where she knew she would be left alone to think about her dream.
Trickles streamed down the hills as Angrboda measured each of her step on the knobbly slope. Bird tweeted while nature seemed to shift all around her. Angrboda walked up to hill, savoring what breathed around her, glad to recall the atmosphere back home. She was never more herself than into the wild.
The air was sweet in Northumbria and through the trees she saw the walls of Beorthric's fortress. It had grown to be a hive. Many were the men who left to siege in other strongholds that Ivar and Sigurd's army conquered, but still, those under the command of Norse kinglets remained there, warring, trying not to kill one another for blood feuds and petty quarrels. Angrboda felt good up there, away from them and their anger. She had this way of absorbing every emotion around her and it exhausted her. She constantly felt about to break into wails and screams. Siggy's anger was too much for her to bear and she tended to discharge it all upon her society.
Angrboda lay in the grass, not daring enough to close her eyes and see the burning hall. She couldn't help thinking her vision was meant to someone else.
"I don't have the sight." she said. "I cannot foresee anything but my pain and my death. Happiness is out of my reach." she chuckled. She resembled her father too much. Had she been there, her mother would have scolded her. Helga was always terrifying when trying to convince people of the goodness of the world. Angrboda had felt it enough to know those were lies, but so long as Helga was happy, so was her daughter.
'You have a rare gift, Boda.' Aslaug had said to her, clasping her hands in hers. 'Few are those connected with the world enough to feel it as a whole and absorb emotions like you do. Those gifts will draw attraction from many men, and they will help you to understand everyone. It is a rare gift indeed, a powerful one; one that will leave you scarred.' she had spoken those words by the hearth when Angrboda was six. She never forgot it; the sight too eerily frightening to sink into oblivion.
She feared Aslaug's eyes, her visions and her might, her connection to pain and a dark future. She feared her connection with the great unknown, feared that void she felt around her, this echo of blades and blood and fear and death. She feared her in all her gleaming, exquisitely powerful sorcery, feared her rasp voice, her hoarse words, her dark dryness when it came to the future; and later she realized it wasn't her she feared but the future she saw, this nothingness of existence she felt; what use to living if you knew when you died? What use to fighting when you knew you couldn't? A seeress could only embrace the inevitable.
"Look what it did to her." Angrboda bitterly said. "I can't let it happen to me." it would destroy her.
Feeling rather tired she dozed off to a troubled sleep filled with burning halls which smoke stifled her breath, she dreamed of many things: a golden tree, a red-fanged wolf, a bear, two lions fighting crowns, animal-headed gods and goddesses, palaces of marble that fell under a rain of fire, Midgard set aflame by fat arrogant brats, Jormungand twisting and turning until the sea covered it all, darkness. She saw shifting faces, always, but one locked itself amidst this whole motion and she bore the face of Aslaug: Aslaug with perfect skin, almost golden hair and a skin which seemed to irradiate light, dressed in gold and blue.
"A rare gift you have, my child." she said. "A rare gift indeed. Fear not what is not yet but what is. Fear serpents around you, fear gilded queens and gilded kings. Fear them, for they will want your skill and use it to their ways. Fear chains and remain free. That is the advice I give to thee."
"Beware of the blood moon. Beware of the charred hall. Beware of the wolf girl. They will bring you ill fate." chanted maidens of familiar faces. "Beware, beware, beware."
Angrboda suddenly woke up soaked with sweat as her heart pounded in her chest. That last face; that last face was that of death itself. She shed a few tears, shuddering with fright. Why now? Why couldn't it awaken when Aslaug was still alive to guide her? Angrboda lost her north star. It felt as though she was her own now. If only Helga were here, or her father for that matter. Were they here, they would have been able to guide her, but Floki was needed as well as his boats and her mother foolishly never left him.
She started as something crawled in the grass. "There you are!" said Ivar.
Angrboda frowned. "Did you crawl your way up there?" she drew her knees back to her chest. "I must have slept long."
"You snore." Ivar grinned.
Angrboda let him come and sit beside her. He was almost bashful in her presence in the middle of nature. One look at her and his heart seemed taken up to the skies. He gawked at her in awe, finding her delightfully divine in simplicity.
"You would make a great queen." he sighed. "You would be known as Sif incarnate, lady of the harvest in Summer and Eir the rest of the year. You would be god-like. Who better for a queen? Who better suited than you to wed the heir to a glorious line? It takes a goddess to marry a god."
Angrboda laughed. "You flatter me." she gave him a playful grin. "Who might that prince be? Sigurd? Hvitserk? Bjorn?" she looked up to the sky, her smile as clear and genuine as that of a girl. "If it is Sigurd I might agree. He would sing me to sleep each of the night we would lay in each other's arms."
Ivar's eyes grew cold which made Angrboda giggle. He blushed and angrily turned his head away. "Fine! Marry a half-man if it suits you!"
"Aw. Are you pouting?" Angrboda said with her usual teasing temper. She bumped her shoulder against his, feeling the stiffness of a shy boy. "Would you have wanted me to say your name?"
Ivar stiffened. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. You didn't say it."
"I thought it, though." she breathed. "Why did you come to find me?"
"You are not with Siggy. That is unusual." Ivar observed.
Angrboda grew cold. "Is that a bad thing?"
Ivar turned his icy eyes, his sharp jaw, his perfect beauty to her sight – she had grown so used to his handsome face that to her it appeared nothing at all. "No." he whispered. He cleared his throat. "Some men fought back at Beorthric's fortress. Eystein's men quarreled with those of a kinglet in southern Norway over some blood feud with some king named Halfdan the Black. They need your expert skills."
Angrboda sighed. "Again? Why don't men show any restrain? Women are definitely more civilized!"
Ivar grinned. "The unsoft Sig isn't though."
Angrboda shivered at the thought of Siggy, basking in blood, devouring the carcass of a deer. "No." she choked on brewing tears. "No she is not." she was afraid Siggy might come back to that emaciated state, wolfing over remains of meat, covered with bite marks, famished and wild. She was afraid Siggy might lose what made her human. "And you? How are your legs today?"
Ivar grew nervous and shy, almost obedient, almost weak. So rare a sight was it that Angrboda and Angrboda only had seen it. "They are less painful when I am laying on my back."
"Good."
"No. It isn't. What is a warrior one that cannot walk or fend for himself? I am no use laying down! I have better walk and break my bones, shatter myself whole if it allowed me to cover my name with glory!" Ivar seethed. "I am the last son of Aslaug Godsent and the son of the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok, himself descended of great kings! Who will I be if I do not live up to their legacy? Fuck the pain! Fuck my legs! It fuels me well enough!"
Angrboda replied to his anger with an smile. "May I see them?" she asked.
Ivar set his jaw. "Do I have any choice?" his voice rang with anger. Her would rather she saw him as a man instead of a cripple she had to take care of.
"Depends on your pain. How is it?"
Burning, aching, sizzling, life-wrenching. It felt as though his bones were constantly on the brink of shattering. "Tolerable." he said.
"May I?" she asked, reaching for his legs.
Ivar angrily unfastened the buckles that kept his legs together, removed shoes and hose and let her graze his skin with her hands. She had that gift, just like Harbard, to take pain away, to soothe a mind and seduce it, but unlike Harbard, unlike her name, she brought no sorrow, no ill intent; only softness and gentleness as would a doe.
He winded his hand around hers, mechanically lingering on her palm. "You would make a great queen." he said again.
"I am no princess," she replied as the drew back her hand.
"To me you are. You were fostered by a king and a queen. You are a noble woman, Boda. A goddess even."
She laughed as she roamed his legs, taking his pain away. "I am nothing of the sort. I heal people and that is it."
Ivar lay in the grass, moaning at her touches, wincing when pain struck. Her hands were fresh and he felt as though she took all the fire in her hands to discard it away. Her palms reached dangerously close to his crotch and he suddenly wished she would go there, caress him there for his own enjoyment. If he wanted, he could take her right here, claim her before Sigurd did, make her his wife and she would bear him strong children.
"I have wanted you ever since I knew what desire for a woman was." he groaned.
Angrboda withdrew her hands. "I know." they shook with pain and her head was spinning with what she felt troubled him.
Ivar grabbed her hand back. "If I was not – If I was not what I am, I would have you! I would court you! I would make you my queen!" Angrboda let him pull her near him, set her hand to his crotch. "See!" he said, pleading. "See I ache for you! Boda!"
She straddled over him and watched him, flustered as her hair cascaded over his torso as she felt him grow harder. She saw him gulp and was tempted to kiss that beautiful throat of his, but restrained, not daring to break the magic of her towering over him in a simple might that resembled to an alluring seduction. She leaned over him, grazing his lips with hers, feeling his hot breath against her neck, plowing through his hair, delighted in his low grunt of lust, of his closing his eyes to keep himself from bedazzlement. She leaned further and placed a long kiss on his soft lips and felt his tongue against hers, eager for more than a mere kiss. She kept it at bay, as she pictured what he would want next: he would keep on kissing her, turn her around and lay over her, kiss her again and again and he would remove her dresses and thrust himself inside her, after he would have made her wet for him. He would do that and Angrboda wanted none of it. She kept his tongue away, and broke the kiss, rubbing his lips with her thumb before she fell back beside him.
Ivar panted beside her, reaching for his groin in a sore desperate way. His whole self ached for her body. Angrboda knew that, but still, she wouldn't help him.
She gave a sigh as she played with his hair. "I wonder what would have happened had I been a mere farmer girl. I would have married a farmer boy and we would have had farmer children for you to levy and send to slaughter while your swines would have stormed into our farm and did rampage and raped and burned. I wouldn't have been raised in the hall of a queen. I wouldn't have been given my gifts and skills and I wouldn't have wanted to come to heal you and your men. I wouldn't have to make you suffer, dear Ivar." her voice was sad.
Ivar gave a sharp breath. "I would have made you my queen, still."
"You would have chained me then. You would have stripped me of freedom and I would have been tied up to a throne I don't want. I don't care for power, Ivar. I care for knowledge."
"Then I would take you anywhere you would want! I would have protected you as a husband does his wife!"
Angrboda shook her head. "No. Marriage is yet another chain I can't bear. I cannot be tied. I wasn't bred to be wed off to princes. I was born for my own purpose and I am sorry to be this honest with you, Ivar, because I deeply care about you, but my fate doesn't lie with you."
He looked almost desperate then, but composed himself in a cold mask of indifference. "What is a woman one that discard power?"
"A wise one. Power corrupts good and draws death to even the best of women. Your mother and Lagertha are a prone example of this."
Ivar set his jaw in anger. "I'll avenge her one day. I'll kill the bitch and expose her wretched body to the wind and the crows and she shall never reach Valhalla. My beautiful mother will be avenged! Of this I swear!"
"Then you'll expose yourself to Bjorn's anger." she said.
"I'll sell his sons as slaves and send Siggy for him. I know she will burn him alive if she had the chance." Ivar grinned.
"Anger will consume her too." Angrboda gritted. "I will not let you use her in a way that might threaten her soul."
Ivar rolled his eyes. "Why do you care about her so much anyway?"
She picked up a flower. "She and I are the same; we long for freedom, for wind and sails, for adventures and other realms. I understand her and she needs me. She is my key to freedom and I her guide. We have been living together for so long it feels as though we are bound to each other. To be perfectly honest, I doubt I can live without her. I love her, Ivar, even when it is hard for me to love her."
"You love her and you won't love me." He scoffed. "Is a cripple so hard to love?"
Angrboda grew cold. "You aren't demeaned because of your legs, Ivar and you know it damn well! You have wits and beauty and you could have any women here! Besides what tells you that you won't walk? What tells you your condition is permanent? You were too mollycoddled as a child! Aslaug was wrong to nurse you as she did! It made you think your legs could not be helped. It can, Ivar! With the right treatment, the right re-education and the right way of doing it you could walk! But if you chain me with matrimony I cannot learn and I cannot heal."
He angrily put back his hose and shoes and fastened the belts around his legs, breaking their intimacy. "Whatever you say! Do not tempt me with it! My legs are hopeless! I thank you for your faith though – and for the healing."
Angrboda scoffed. "Incredible! I bring him hope and he refuses it!" his darkness didn't meddle well with her dim light.
"Hope is for the weak, for those who would rather see the gods luminous! You and I have been well versed in their dark truth. Your father taught us well."
"He taught us wrong."
Ivar shrugged. "Well then I think Sigurd is a better match for your wit! He is so soft." he sounded bitter.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, spare me your tantrums, please! I have enough of them with Siggy alone. You two are sucking the strength out of me."
Ivar started with anger but grew calmer. "I didn't mean to."
Angrboda pinched the top of her nose. "I am sorry for that disappointment, Ivar. You cannot have me."
He tried to erase his sadness. "One day, you'll change your mind and I'll be there to make you my queen. You will sleep in my bed every night I deem it fit and you will be raised higher than any of my other wives."
"That is what you say." she smiled, knowing, from those visions she still needed to figure out, that she would never be chained to Ivar, that his fate laid elsewhere, astray, in green lands and cities made of stone.
"What I say is true. I am Ivar the Boneless and I always keep my promises."
"Are you sure?" asked Guthrum, a pair of scissors in his hand.
"Yes." Siggy nodded. "Cut it."
"You'll look like a thrall." he spat it, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Why would you?"
"Horek is here and I must hide. I must hide no more if I am to fight and lead the troops my uncle gave me. Cut my hair like you would a man and be done with it. I am no princess. I am no woman now. I shall be a man, for Bjorn is looking after his female offspring, not a male." she was gritty. "Cut it. The shorter the better."
His hands brushed her scalp and wrung her hair. "If you are a man, then what of us? Will you be my bed-woman, or my bed-man?"
She turned as to face him, a wide smile on her face. "I'll always be your woman." she took his hand. "That said, I must fight. I must earn my men's trust to lead them away from Bjorn."
Horek's smile grew cruel. "When this is all over, I will make you my woman and my men will be yours, just as yours will be mine."
"Are you asking me to marry you?" she gave a crooky grin. "Did I flee a marriage only to be thrown into your arms? Will you take me to Kattegat and ask Bjorn for my hand?"
With a sly smile, he grabbed her waist and drew her to his lap, where she sat. His hand went up her thigh as her breath cut short, pulling the folds of her dress up, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, sneaking under her smalls. Her breath grew quicker and she moaned, her lips quivering, begging for kisses, as her hips waved, eager for his touch.
He brutally claimed her lips as she straddled him, grasping his hair, drawing him closer, to her mouth, to her throat, to her breasts. They moved in unison, moaning, groaning and when Siggy was ready for him, he recoiled and sat her on his lap again. "I won't ask. I will claim you. I will take you."
She leaned to his lips, disheveled. "Then you ought to be quick. Eystein's desire grows by the day. What about you claim me now? It won't be that hard." she gave a grin, her hand reaching his groin. "At least, not as hard as your cock."
"Hearing you scream my name would feel good, but I prefer to save it for tonight." he bit her ear. "Your hair." he snarled with contempt, wrung a lock of her fair hair in his hand. "Now, to make you a thrall."
"To make me a man. Bjorn has but one daughter and I am not." she wriggled out of his grasp. "My hair cut, I shall no longer be Siggy, I shall be Sigvaldi, warrior sworn to prince Sigurd."
He grasped her ass and pulled her towards him. "At night, you will lay with me, and I will remind you that you are a woman."
"Not tonight. Tonight I drink, I fight, I feast. Bjorn is away, Horek will be fooled and his plans will be dead."
He kissed her thumb, lingering over his mouth and grinned. "And we conquer. We will make ourselves rich and rule over the Saxons."
She shrugged. "That is what you want." she sat, turning her back to him, untangling her hair. "Now, cut it."
Guthrum seized the scissors. It would be so easy for him to merely slit her throat, to stab her in the back. She trusted him and he trusted her rage, why not do that and be relieved of it? He could marry a noblewoman, spread his seed across the Saxons' land, breed sons untouched by the great Ragnar Lothbrok. He could avenge his father, right here, right now. But it would not serve his cause and if he killed, Ragnar's sons would see that he would be killed, and he would be, either killed in the square, either in battle, either at sea or either poisoned. He couldn't. For now he needed her, but he wouldn't follow her.
He cut the first strand of hair jaw-length. "You still remain a woman, your features fine, and bosom buxom." he inhaled her hair. "I will always want you." there was no deceit in his voice. No matter the stain of Ragnar, she was a woman he enjoyed.
She gave a smile. "And I, you." she looked at sparse strands of hair falling on the ground. She had not realized how long they were until now. A faint tear pearled at the corner of her eye. Farewell, Siggy the girl. She wasn't fond of her anyway.
She relaxed as Guthrum cut her hair, warm shivers running down her spine as she savored his hand on her scalp. She moaned, while golden threads fell, like autumn leaves, ceding their place for winter to come. Winter would soon come, but first, blood needed to be shed to ensure the Northmen's rule over Saxon fiefs and realms. Sigurd and Ivar did well in proclaiming noblemen kings under their rule, but she did not doubt there wouldn't be quarrels for more land. She could already smell the Saxons fighting for more, killing their neighbors. It was a fine plan if Sigurd and Ivar wanted to give those lands away to their favorite chieftains. It was not the end of the way, though, merely the beginning. Northumbria would fall and Siggy would be there to watch it crumble down.
Then... Then... When everything would be over... She gave a sad sigh. She would forever be on the run. Her blood was quick to flow and she hardly could stay in one place for too long otherwise she grew bored or melancholy. She could ask Angrboda to follow her no more. She would want to settle an live a peaceful life. Siggy would hate herself if she took it away from her.
She shed a tear, feeling the sting of hollow prospects. "I hope men won't be mad I haven't a beard." she chuckled in a sob.
"They will find you far too pretty to blame you on this. They will simply think you a boy." he placed a peck on the top of her head. "You're all done."
"Show me."
He handed her a silver mirror she took and marveled at her face, at her hair, cut as short as her ear-lobes. Without her long hair to frame it, her jaw seemed harsher, her eyebrows thicker, more furrow, her lips seemed to have lost some softness in it. If she hid her breasts well and completed her disguise with large shoulders, she could easily pass as a boy.
She frowned, though, at her eyes. She didn't like them. She hated them as she felt Lagertha's hard eyes on her, judging what she was, lording over her even, looking with contempt and a bit of shame. She tossed the mirror across the tent. Looking at her eyes for too long would bring her here and she did not want her to find her, looking through her own eyes. It was the only thing she ever got from Bjorn; treacherous eyes.
"That will do." she stood up and undressed to strap on her breasts. She caught Guthrum's eyes on her nipples and gave a mischievous grin. She lowered the piece of cloth that was to hide her breasts. "Are you satisfied, lord?"
He groaned his arousal. "Call me lord. Again." he asked, his eyes devilishly alluring.
She slowly stepped towards him, straddling him again. "Lord." she cupped his face in her hand.
"Again." he ordered.
"My lord." her lips hovered over his, sultrily quivering.
He bit her lower lips to kiss her whole, tongue against hers. "Will you kneel? To honor me?" he murmured in her ear.
Siggy moaned as his mouth went to her breasts, and dug her nails deep in his flesh. She needed him inside of her, Her maidenhead gone, Bjorn would never be able to marry her off, even as a third wife.
The entrance to the tent flapped open all of a sudden. Siggy gasped and turned to see Eystein there while Guthrum gave him a dark glare. Eystein frowned, seemingly amused by the scene in front of his eye.
"You lay with boys, now, Guthrum?" he taunted before he opened his eyes wide at the sight of Siggy's breasts. "Loki!" he spat.
Siggy stood up with an annoyed groan, hiding her breasts under the cloth that was to hide them to the whole camp. She put on a large shirt and large hoses. "No." she grunted. "Sigvaldi." she gave him a smile, when she noticed surprise still carved on his face. She patted his chest. "You'll get over it."
"What are you doing here?" Guthrum bore a snarl as though he had been a prince disturbed in his love-making.
Eystein shook his head away from Siggy's face. "Ivar and Sigurd asked for you and Siggy." he rolled his eyes. "Well, Sigvaldi, now, I suppose."
Siggy shrugged. "Only for a time."
Guthrum stood up with a groan and tied his sword on his belt. He turned Siggy to him and claimed her lips while staring intensely at Eystein who rolled his eyes once more. He rubbed his thumb on her lips. "I'll go first. I need to inform Sigurd of your new name before Horek comes in."
Siggy nodded. "I will tell Boda tonight if she is not still angry with me."
"I thought it was Gye who was angry with you." said Eystein.
"What can I say? I piss women off." she gave an apologetic smile.
"Men too." Guthrum held her waist.
She smiled. "Men too. Now go, I will see you tonight to finish what we started here before we were so rudely interrupted."
Guthrum gave a gentle slap on her ass and exited the tent, not without glowering at Eystein, his eyes two burning fires that resembled his reddish beard and glowing flaxen hair. Eystein watched him go, battling his glowering with a dark glare himself.
"You cut your hair." Eystein said, more like a regret that an assessment.
Siggy grinned and scoffed. "I did. Did I need your permission? Do you see me more like a man, now?" she stepped forward, her eyes daring and proud.
Eystein licked his lips that spread into a wide grin. He leaned his lips, grazing hers, while grabbing her waist. She yawled. "I have already a wife at home. I need a warrior in my bed too." his lips were close. She could feel his breath on her skin. "You remain a woman, short hair or not and one day I will bed you. You will bring me more sons than I already have and I will be your lord."
"That day, I will cut your balls and wear them around my neck."
He laughed. "You keep on with those threats and every one of them makes me want you more."
Siggy pushed him aside, knocking her knee on his crotch. "My uncles await." she said. "You would do well, you, a poor jarl, to obey princes."
Eystein's eyes grew dark. "My father was a king."
Siggy shrugged. "A petty king, indeed. And you did nothing to keep the crown, boasting like you are, Eystein Ivarsson. At least Bjorn and my uncles are sons to a farmer turned king with the blessings of the gods."
He chuckled once more, stepping at a respectable distance from her. "Woman, you are a thunderstorm."
She grinned as she exited the tent, her face as masculine as she needed it to be. "A thunderstorm that will have your balls."
"A thunderstorm still." he panted as he strode beside her towards the great dark stone building towering over high walls and a myriad of tents.
Siggy saw Angrboda in front of her and a sly smile spread across her face. She held her face high, in plain sight and crossed Angrboda's eyes. She gave her a quick look and a faint frown without any emotions, other than curiosity. Siggy turned away to look at her and saw that Angrboda had done the same, brows furrowed in sheer confusion. Siggy gave her a grin and winked at her, sending a kiss her way.
"You are a man now, I guess you would want to lay with women." Eystein joked. "I can bring some slaves to your bed."
"No woman is worth Angrboda." Siggy grimly said. "If I had to lay with a woman, I would choose her." her hand lingered on the handle of her sword. "If you try to have her, not only will I kill you, but you will not reach Valhalla and I shall seek vengeance upon your whole family, curse them for generations to come." she seethed. "No one is to harm her in any way. Do you understand?"
Eystein scoffed. "Why, judging by your voice you had her I suppose. Did she scream?" they passed the entrance of the castle.
Siggy pinned him against a wall with a loud thud, unsheathed her dagger she brought to his throat. She could smell his fear, but he would not betray it for nothing in the world. Siggy's anger-face left place for a smile without joy. She leaned over to his ear and pressed a kiss there before she bit it hard, leaving bite marks on his lobe, blood dripping from her teeth. Eystein gave a loud scream of pain mixed with rage.
Siggy recoiled and chuckled. "Yes. She screamed just like that this morning." She turned away and kept walking through the threshold, licking her lips, half savoring the metallic taste of blood.
"I hope no one saw you, Sigvaldi." he said as he reached her. "You would be a dead man otherwise."
She gauged him head to toe. "I was clearly dominating you. My honor is safe here." she grinned. "I cannot say the same about you." she mimicked his screaming.
He brutally seized her forearm. "Don't anger me woman." he growled.
"Then don't provoke mine." she seethed back, striding through the large hall towards the upper rooms where Sigurd was most likely to be.
He groped her ass. "One day, you will submit, or regret it."
She squinted at him. "Are you drunk?"
"On you, yes."
"Oh. Then you'll sober soon enough." she walked up to a large corridor that oversaw the base floor which led either to bed chambers or large room filled with paper. She stopped by a door ajar. "Do not make me kill you in the square. You have value as a chieftain and my uncle would suffer the blow of your death; and I must protect him."
He scoffed. "You like him, I see. Do you wish to bed him too?"
"That is a crime." she gravely said. "I don't do crimes." she gave him a look. "I wish I was your niece. I would marry you." her eyes grew colder. "To shame you." she added.
"Thereupon you would shame yourself too."
"I already am a shame to my father." She shrugged. "I was born in shame, I was raised in shame. So long as I bring him ruin." Upon which she entered the room and saw Ivar, Sigurd, Guthrum, Horek and Gye, as well as several jarls and petty kings. It was a small army her uncles had brought in Northumbria, though not as large as that of Ubbe and Hvitserk in Wessex, an army still.
The sons of Ragnar owned ships and men enough to levy them in no time. Aslaug had been wise to gift them parcels of lands she had owned with time, though Siggy would never care to admit it. With their thirty ships for them alone and the twenty more of their allies, Northumbria would soon collapse.
"Sigvaldi, Eystein, welcome." Sigurd said.
Horek frowned upon seeing her but Siggy bore his eyes. "You're a boy." he said. "What are you doing here?"
"Sigvaldi has proven himself in battle and I shall grant him troops to lead. He abides by me. Don't you, Sigvaldi?" Sigurd said while Ivar rolled his eyes, chuckling.
Siggy felt dizzy with this new name. She cleared her throat as to make her voice deeper, harsher. "Yes, lord." a hint of pride came when she heard an almost mannish voice.
"Enough with civilities." Ivar groaned, annoyed."How many strongholds are ours, now?"
Sigurd tried to conceal his growing anger. "We control nearly half of Northumbria's upper territory. With so many nobles up north, kept away from the seat of Aelle's power it comes as no surprise. You would have thought more of his nobles would remain faithful to him and his line, but I guess power drives men." said Sigurd.
Eystein cheered at that and Horek gave a faint smirk.
Ivar yawled. "Doesn't it drives you, scald-prince? You are a half man if you do not seek power. That is what our father did." his hand hovered dangerously close to his sword as Siggy gritted her teeth, hardly concealing her will to bite him.
Sigurd licked his lips in a way that told of his irritation. "What use of power can you have if you do not control it? What use if it is to sever a line? I seek no wooden camp, no battlefield, no song. I seek walls of imperishable stones and sons to succeed to me and daughters to wed off to allies that would strengthen my grasp on lands that I shall hold! And you, brother? What will your legacy be? A special way of crawling?" a cruel smile spread on his lips. "There has been enough snakes in our family. You would do well to avoid the wild of Norway, that of Denmark and the north of Sweden, who knows, perhaps a Sigurd or a Bodvar would kill you and drink your blood."
Ivar chuckled, his eyes colder than ice, heart thumping in his chest, hand on the handle of his ax. "I will blood-eagle you before you do. And then, I will wear your eye around my neck. Mother should have never given you such a gift. It was mine from the beginning."
"That whore never gave me anything." seethed Sigurd.
Siggy stirred, uneasy on her spot, trying to to say anything that would betray who she truly was. If she spoke, Horek would know. She must act a man.
Ivar lost his smile. "Careful now. You are a word away from death."
Eystein groaned. "Enough! Your cocks are both equal in measure, now quit it with this game and let's move on to greater endeavors." Siggy noted he was still angered at her biting him.
Horek nodded. "You conquered great lands, now what?"
Ivar turned his head away. "Had I a say I would burn those nobles in their fancy little houses and be done with it but alas, stone does not burn that easily." he gave a grin. "Skinning them alive would do, though."
Sigurd sighed. "I sent a ship down to Ubbe and Hvitserk. They managed to take East Anglia but they'll need reinforcement. It seems as though the south of England is impossible to hold, however thanks to their rampage south, we managed to keep Aelle at bay. I say we must keep our position and conquer more seats of power. Meanwhile, I shall spend winter away, and try to gather allies. We need more."
Ivar frowned. "Where would you seek allies? We already roamed the Faroes, the Orkneys, the Hebrides! Loki! We even went as far as to ask aid from the Rus! We looked everywhere, whether Saxland, Finland, Rusland and we even sent word south. Most of them are much too awed and terrified of Lagertha to even consider aiding us instead of her bitch of a son!"
Sigurd shifted nervously on his seat. "There is still someone who can help; someone of our blood."
Ivar's eyes grew wide and he growled. "You think not!" he was gritty.
"Winter is softer there. I could train warriors and ask to him for our men to rest there in Winter, waiting to plunder England. It is close in reach to Wessex and East Anglia. We could go there easily and lead stealth attacks, raid and go back without being chased by Aethelwulf's men. We would even settle there, cornering the Saxon kings to the very last." Sigurd argued. "You can remain here in the meanwhile, though. You'll hold our positions and maybe you'll get to kill Saxons. You'll fight and make them fear you just as I know you can. I ask but one thing: wait for me to kill Aelle. I want to taste the flavor of his blood myself."
Ivar grinned. "Careful now, brother, you almost sound like a man." Sigurd grinned. "As for our strongholds, I agree, although I am not satisfied with living in another man's home. I'd rather have my own seat of power. We must keep up our conquest, weaken Aelle to the bone, then kill him, and sell his family as slaves. Only then will I be satisfied."
Sigurd laughed. "A rare thing to hear you agree with me! Very well, so then it is settled!"
"We also need steel and swords." Horek said. "Do you have enough silver to pay for them or should I ask to Bjorn?"
"You didn't call your master a king?" Ivar seethed. "Careful, now, he could hear you and come for your ass."
Gye snorted.
"I'll deal with silver for Frankish swords." said Sigurd. "Sigvaldi, you will come with me. I will need your men in case something arises with the Franks."
Siggy nodded.
"Do you fear something brother?" Ivar scoffed. "Oh I should not be surprised, fear suits you."
"I'll find the silver through the Saxon nobles we managed to yoke. If needed I will send raiding parties further south and I shall build an alliance ensuring our Frankish kin does not spend the silver we will hand over to him against us."
"He is a traitor." Ivar seethed. "He will stab you in the back as soon as he has the chance!" He shrugged smugly. "Not that I care, though."
"I'll be here to protect him." said Gye fiercely. Siggy smiled seeing her eyes sparkle as she met Sigurd's. Such a shame his own did not. It seemed the serpent swallowed any joy he might had, even when he sang and played a tune his eyes did not sparkle as much.
"No." Sigurd said. "I will go with only five ships. No need for the Franks to see us as threats. You will remain here in command of the rest of my ships. Can you manage with ten?"
Gye flustered. "That is – that is a great honor, my lord Sigurd." she stammered.
"In the meantime, we hear of more quarrels between the Saxon nobles." Eystein said. "My scouts and spies told me some of the young folks we placed in their fathers' thrones are planning revenge upon us to gain Aelle's trust. A warrior of mine, Thorbrand, was killed in the rebellious act of one. I say we kill them."
"They'll levy men and muster an army." Guthrum said. "There may be different battles we must fight at the same time if rebellion spreads."
"Not to mention the Scots and Picts invasions upon the northern border of Northumbria. If we are powerful here, we are also threatened." Horek added.
"Then we kill them all." said Siggy, trying to sound deep and manly.
Horek frowned harder, while Gye squinted at her. Siggy gulped.
"I agree, with Sig here." Ivar said, a toothy grin at display, cold and cruel. "We kill them all before winter settles in and then, Sigurd the soft, you go to your kin in Frankia, sing him a little tune and whore yourself for swords."
"We cannot remain divided Ivar." Sigurd seethed, his eyes burning bright. Ivar shifted nervously at the sight of his eye. It was something he hid well that he feared serpents, especially those that reminded him of Aslaug. "I stay until winter settles in as you say and I go south for silver and swords. You stay here, you wage your little war, you conquer strongholds and muster cattle of horses for our warriors. You do as little destruction as possible and kill only to make them fear you."
Ivar grinned. "And when I am done, what? I wait for you? What is to say I won't kill Aelle or take the land for myself?"
Sigurd shrugged and drank some mead. "Take it if you must. You will not lord over it very long anyway. You lack patience and stillness. You lack softness." his grin grew wider.
Ivar bit his lower lip. "Who are you to decide? I may rule a city soon."
"That would suit our plans." Sigurd said.
"Wouldn't you want it? Wouldn't you be jealous, just as you are jealous our mother did not breastfed you enough?" there was a longing to hurt him in his voice.
"I have no interest in this land, only for revenge. I'll always have what mother gave us all and if I can, I will take back the land our father would have wanted me to have that Lagertha took so unjustly." he said with a fierce passion.
"Lord Sigurd," Gye sounded nervous. "Perhaps you could talk about it somewhere else." she glanced at Horek.
"Oh I know he is Bjorn's spy. I am no fool."
"No, but you're soft." Ivar hummed.
"Then kill him yourself since you are so hard!" Sigurd yelled, before a wide cruel grin spread over his face. "Oh, right, I always forgot. You never are."
Ivar tossed a dagger across the room and Sigurd dodged it. He was quick at this and fast on his feet. A dozens of years spent beside Ivar taught him, at least to avoid being killed in battle.
Ivar seethed on his seat, setting his jaw. "Never – again." his words swallowed by anger.
Sigurd unstuck the blade from the wood of the door while Guthrum bore an amused grin, Eystein a tired face and Horek a fearful one. Gye's eyes were hard. She wouldn't mind her brother gone for good.
"Horek will not say a word to Bjorn about my plans, for I am indeed soft and I represent no threat at all." Sigurd said, toying with the dagger, his eyes a cold sea, the serpent resembling Jormungand in all its frightening might. "Will you, Horek?"
He gulped, trying to avoid his eyes. "No lord." her grew more daring. "King Bjorn will ask you about that himself."
"I have no doubt of it. He always like to have it all and control the others. He will see that I am not Ivar, though. He should not fear a soft Sig." his serpent eye went to Siggy. "No, he needn't fear any soft Sig."
"Are you threatening him, lord?" asked Horek under Guthrum's eyes betraying his ecstasy that Ragnar's sons would be at each other throats and he would not to soil his hands with their blood.
"Our father was a friend of yours." Sigurd said. "Of course I do not threaten you. Have you seen me? A scald. A half-man." he gripped Horek's armor as to shake him. "I couldn't possibly think of killing a warrior. Although I confess I prefer Gye, over there, to you." Gye looked pleased. "If anything," he whispered in Horek's ear. "You should be afraid of Ivar." it always did good betokening of Ivar's blood-rage. It was a leverage Sigurd thanked and cursed the gods for.
Ivar gave a toothy grin. "Your serpent frightens him."
"Not as much as you do." Sigurd returned a polite smile.
Ivar eased himself on his seat. "I agree to your plan brother, if it means I am to be rid of you for a season."
"I shall tell Hvitserk and Ubbe of what we did here. I cannot wait to meet them. It has been over a year."
"Magrethe would have had her child. Are you sure Ubbe will not come back to his family."
"He swore an oath that he will not come back to Kattegat until our work with Aelle is done. Then he'll hump her and he will have another child." Sigurd gave a grin at the memory of her soft breasts. "Or else he chose a concubine in East-Anglia and she gave him many sons already."
"I cannot wait for the day we kill Aelle." Ivar said.
"Me neither. Father will rejoice, wherever he is."
"He didn't die a warrior's death." Guthrum pointed out.
"That is why we must kill Aelle." Sigurd turned to Eystein. "Will you stay that long?"
He shrugged. "I plan on getting rich and then come back to my wife and child in Norway. My tenant must be waiting for me there. I'll witness the death of a king and the conquest of England. That will be tale enough to say I was amongst the sons of Ragnar."
"So long as you do not boast of it." Siggy shrugged, yielding to her desire to banter him.
Horek squinted at her again. Siggy suddenly felt uneasy as cold sweat ran down her spine.
"Do you have an issue with Sigvaldi, here, Horek?" asked Sigurd, hiding menace in his voice.
"No, lord."
"Good. For now, Beorthric hosts a feast tonight, and I intend to sing and play games." he drank some mead. "Then, we raid."
Ivar giggled. "We kill."
AND JUST LIKE THAT AFTER SEVERAL MONTHS CRYING OVER A CHAPTER THAT WOULD NOT WRITE ITSELF I PRESENT TO YOU THIS SHIT! BEWARE! I HAVE NEW IDEAS IN STORE FOR OUR GIRLS!