Hi all! So if you follow me on Tumblr, you probably knew this was coming. I have been obsessed with Vikings for a long time and I've really enjoyed this half-season. And I'll admit I've gone back and forth on posting this because I am the absolute worst at updating and I also don't feel like it's all that good (third person is out of my comfort zone, I used to write in it all the time but I just got out of practice so I'm insecure about it). But I decided to bite the bullet and post it anyway. I was just writing for myself but I figured, hey, maybe someone else can get something out of it too. I'm open to suggestions about things, your thoughts, where you think things ought to go, perspectives you want to see, etc. Well, at any rate, thanks for reading at all. It means a lot to me. Dagny might be a little naïve at first but we aren't all born shieldmaidens, lol. She's got to learn. And also nothing really happens at all in this intro chapter but it's just because I thought it was getting long. So thanks for listening to me ramble on and I'll get on with it. Thank you!
Dagny's earliest memory was standing in a line with others stolen from their homelands, stolen from their families. The ground was frozen beneath their feet and not a one of them wore anything that could stand the cold. Dagny's feet had almost been bare, wrapped in the thinnest of cloths, and she curled over on herself to keep her hands close to her body. Dagny couldn't remember a time she'd been colder. Since then, she always slept in a room with other slaves and on particularly cold nights, they would share beds for warmth. Dagny, waiting to be bid on and knowing she wasn't worth much, could not comprehend the thought of being warm that winter's day.
None of the slaves immediately understood the importance of the woman who came and looked at each one of them, as if she might unearth their deepest desires just by casting her eyes upon them. She stopped in front of Dagny, no more than six years at the time. She was small and sickly from the boat ride there, not at all the image of a slave a queen would want. But Aslaug tipped the girl's chin up and smiled at her. All Dagny could think was that Aslaug's cheeks were rosy with life and that her deep blue cloak was capped with fur. What she would have done for fur. When the queen pulled her hand back, she pulled open her cloak and said something, something Dagny knew the meaning of even if she couldn't understand it. Dagny rushed beneath the fabric and Aslaug paid the slaver a single silver coin with a hole through the middle. She wasn't worth more than that.
She couldn't remember anything from life before being a slave. Dagny wasn't even her name from before. It was the name Aslaug gave her that winter day, amidst many suggestions from her sons. Dagny learned their language and forgot her own. She could mend any shirt or armor, gather herbs and forage, heal many ailments. She was an excellent slave and she knew she was Aslaug's favorite. But being the favorite of the queen did not spare her from work.
There was to be a feast in honor of Bjorn Ironside's raid and thus, there was much to be done. Dagny piled laundry into a large basket and lamented the fact that her closest friend, Asdis, wasn't there. She was, no doubt, going back and forth with her small bucket to fill the washing tub with water. Dagny stood back and debated the best way to drag the basket all the way to Frida's cabin. She grabbed a side and dejected, began to pull.
Suddenly, the weight on her arm gave way and she flinched. Dagny turned to see Ubbe cradling the basket, as if it were filled with feathers. He grinned, a most charming thing. Dagny cursed the warmth in her chest it made her feel. His smile won him favoritism from Asdis and the other girls but his kindness had won it from Dagny.
"You are going to-" He rumpled his handsome brow.
"Frida's," Dagny replied.
He nodded. "Frida's." Ubbe could not remember many names but Dagny had grown up alongside Ubbe and his brothers. She was almost more friend than servant to them.
"You do not have to help me," she murmured. Ubbe scoffed and walked past her, leaving only a view of the braid down his back.
Ubbe was well-liked among the slaves for a variety of reasons. Foremost among those was that he was handsome. His eyes were clear and blue, his skin was smooth, and he had an utterly disarming smile. Dagny always equated Ubbe with a home and hearth, simple love and simple pleasures. All the things she secretly wanted.
But he was still a man and he was also liked because of the way he'd ask the slave girls to bed him. Asdis said most men in Kattegat just took the girls, whether they wanted it or not, but Ubbe would ask. It only added to the perception of him as a prince out of the stories, one that might eventually free you from bondage and make you a princess. Dagny always thought that Ubbe was praised for simply being a decent person and she doubted any woman he posed the question to would dare tell him no. From the stories or not, he was still a true prince, still a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and if he wanted something, Dagny had no doubt he was given it.
He had never asked Dagny and she wasn't sure if she was grateful for it or forlorn.
Dagny stopped Ubbe outside of Frida's and told him to let her take in the laundry. Even outside, she could tell that the sons of Ragnar were the topic of discussion in Frida's hut.
"They will faint and fawn if they see you helping me," Dagny said. Ubbe's lips parted in a grin and the wind tousled his hair. Something clawed at Dagny's stomach, down deep.
"But you never do," he responded and gave her the basket. She wanted to buckle beneath its weight.
Dagny let herself smile over the pile of tunics and pants. She knew it was the worst kind of foolish but Ubbe had always seemed like he might be her real friend. He was teasing and helpful and could make her laugh. "You just do not pay attention. But thank you, Ubbe."
"You are most welcome, Dagny." He was smiling again, so kind and lovely.
She saw him contemplate grabbing the basket from her and taking it in anyway. But she turned and quickly entered Frida's. As expected from the scraps of conversation she'd overheard outside, Asdis and the others were debating the handsomest of the brothers, a favorite pastime for them. Dagny ignored their voices and set to putting the clothes in the water. Others immediately began pushing them down and picking particularly dirty pieces to scrub. Asdis poured her last bucket of water into the tub, some sloshing over the side onto her feet. She grimaced.
"Obviously, it is Ubbe," Frida declared, almost wearing a hole in the tunic in her hands. Everyone liked him and Dagny thought most of the slave girls were half in love with him, herself included.
"Yes, he is," Dotta agreed. Dagny just threw in more laundry.
"Margrethe is lucky," Asdis decided, wiping her brow. No one disagreed, even knowing that she was as much a slave as they were and was bound to do as she was told.
Margrethe was the newest so it surprised Dagny little that she had caught Ubbe's eye. Asdis thought she'd been with Sigurd as well but no one had confirmed it. She and Dotta were particularly jealous of Margrethe but it bothered Dagny little. To Aslaug's sons, she was something novel when they'd had the opportunity to have any of the other slaves that they wanted for the past few months at least. Margrethe was also beautiful, with a crown of almost silver hair and lovely features. Dagny's hair was black. Her nose was small. Her skin was pale enough to be mistaken for sickness. No matter how she tried to spare her hands, they were rough and Margrethe had been chosen to serve in the royal household immediately, sparing her skin the rough life Dagny's had lived. It was easy to see why Ubbe and Sigurd were taken with her.
"No, no, it is Sigurd," Dotta said, immediately moving on from Margrethe. The others laughed. Apparently, Sigurd had once taken her into the forest and kissed her on a bed of flowers. She wasn't like to let anyone forget it.
"We know what you think about Sigurd," Asdis teased and Dotta splashed her. Dagny tried not to smile.
"Yes, will we never hear the end of the tale of Sigurd and Dotta in the forest?" Frida said, pulling a pair of pants from the vat and going to hang them on the line.
"It is a good tale," Dagny admitted, pulling a red dress of Aslaug's to her. It was the one the queen had told her she'd wear to the feast before Bjorn and Hvitserk's journey to some far off land at the Mediterranean Sea. Hvitserk had been bragging to Dagny about his first raid only a few days ago, talking about all the things he might see and do. It made Dagny smile. Everything about Hvitserk made her smile.
"Thank you, Dagny," Dotta replied. "And what is your opinion?"
"I don't have an opinion," Dagny lied, pushing her dark hair behind her shoulders. Water crept up the sleeves of her blue dress. With a sigh, she relegated herself to the fact that she would have to change before helping Margrethe serve dinner.
Asdis scoffed so Dagny looked up from her washing. "You only say that because in the next few days, we will be hearing the tale of you and Hvitserk in the forest," Asdis said. Dagny's cheeks colored while the others laughed.
"I doubt that. He will be looking forward to the women on raid, not some girl who's served his family her whole life."
"Don't be bleak, Dagny. He favors you." Dagny wanted to pretend that he didn't. Dagny was a slave, no matter how Aslaug often treated her like she wasn't one. She was foreign and small and her hands were rough. She knew she wasn't as pretty as Margrethe or Asdis. But none of it had ever stopped Hvitserk from showing her attention. Not long ago, he'd helped her gather herbs for Aslaug when he should have been training and as he tucked them into her belt, he bent forward and pressed his lips to Dagny's cheek and her sharp jawline and the skin of her throat. He only stopped because Ubbe came looking for him and Dagny had heard him tell Hvitserk that she was a person, worthy of respect, that he should ask her. She managed to crush every single herb she'd picked on her way back to Aslaug.
He was gathering nerve, that's what Asdis thought. Hvitserk was confident but he was also genuinely pleasant and Dagny hoped, heavy with naiveté, that she meant more to him than his normal conquests. She was conscious of the fact that they were not friends, could never be actual friends, but just as with Ubbe, she thought they might be all the same. She was closer to Hvitserk than she was any non-slave who was not Aslaug. They were alike in age and temperament. He was agreeable and good-looking and simple things could make him laugh. Dagny liked him and liked him a great deal, if she was to be honest. But she didn't love him. When she saw the way Dotta's expression curled into dreaminess at the thought of Sigurd, she was grateful for it. But love or not, it was still foregone that Hvitserk would ask her soon and Dagny was prepared for it.
"Yes, well, he is lovely and friendly and I've known him most of my life," Dagny said. Asdis scoffed again.
"Such words of romance."
"What should I say, Asdis?" Dagny muttered. "Words I don't mean?"
"I just believe that if you avoid him any longer, Margrethe will quickly take your place." Dotta and Frida exchanged a knowing look, one that said Dotta knew she'd been pushed aside in favor of Margrethe. Dagny just felt a chill, a creeping cold that made the water on her hands feel warm. She'd had a dream about Hvitserk and Margrethe the night before, an oddly vivid dream.
"He has no interest in Margrethe." Dagny sounded confident but didn't feel it. Asdis shrugged but smiled. She was only teasing.
"So you consider Hvitserk to be the handsomest?" Dotta asked.
"No," Dagny admitted. "I think that is Ivar." Each of the others froze, a curious expression on their faces.
Asdis slung a sopping wet tunic over the line and said, "Surely you must be joking."
"He's crippled," Dotta mentioned, her face a sneer of repugnance. Dagny clenched her jaw and brought Aslaug's dress out of the water, not caring that it splattered across Dotta's new tunic.
"Don't be cruel, Dotta," she replied. "You asked if he was handsome, not if he could walk."
"How can she possibly be cruel to him? He is spiteful to everyone," Frida said, as if that had any bearing on the boy's looks or Dotta's own unkindness.
"It is cruel because he deals with enough hardship." Dagny turned her back to put Aslaug's dress on the line. She had to stand on the balls of her feet to hang it. Ivar was mean and callous and he always thought there was an ulterior motive for any kindness shown him. But Dagny liked his eyes and his intelligence and the way he would sometimes flinch at a touch. She had a gift for healing and was often in his company. Though he used to act like it was a waste of precious time to be there, Ivar was now frequently at Dagny's, sometimes for ailments she couldn't even see. He would never admit it but she knew he'd warmed to her. She thought they were, if nothing else, allies.
Dotta narrowed her blue eyes. "You favor him." Her tone was more accusation than discovery.
"That is ridiculous, Dotta. I favor no one." Dagny kept her back turned and pretended to straighten Aslaug's dress on the line to hide her reddening face. "You wanted my opinion and now you have it."
Asdis, for it could only be Asdis, came and grabbed Dagny by the arm. She had a smirk on her face. "Shall I go find him, Dagny? He's just a cripple. I'm sure he would be happy to be with any woman." The color leeched from Dagny's face as Frida and Dotta shared in Asdis's laughter.
"He's more than 'just a cripple,'" Dagny stated, "and I'm sure he can have anyone he wants, just like his brothers." Dagny's dark eyes caught Dotta's. Even though she felt pity for Dotta and how Sigurd had apparently brushed her aside for Margrethe, Dagny did not care for anyone who might demean Ivar for being a cripple.
The laundry was cleaned quickly and quietly after that but Dagny knew it wouldn't be the last she'd hear of it. She wished she'd said nothing, that she'd kept quiet. It was a stupid thing to care about and she felt foolish for admitting anything to them. But still, she found it a great shame that others could ignore Ivar's weapon of a mind in favor of his legs and his cruelty.
Dotta, Asdis, and Frida had other chores so Dagny left to prepare for serving dinner. Once outside of Frida's, she let out a breath.
"Dagny." She turned at the voice, flinched. It was Ivar, coming from the strip of land behind Frida's cottage, wearing a look that said he'd heard every word she'd spoken in favor of him. Dagny knew he listened, that he crept around and heard conversations that he had no right hearing. People did not pay close enough attention.
"Ivar," she replied as her nails dug into the palm of her hand. She smiled at him anyway. He'd once snarled at her that she smiled too much. She remembered it every time she saw him.
"I have been looking for you."
"Does your wrist still hurt?" He tucked his chin to his chest; not even a nod and the closest to affirmation she'd get. She glanced down and saw the bandaging she'd put on his right wrist was still in place. But the ointment had probably worn off. "Come with me."
Dagny once found it remarkable that Ivar was able to keep up since he had to crawl rather than walk. The one time she'd waited for him, he beat her to she and Asdis's cabin. He laughed at her for being too nice.
He was the silent the entire journey there, which Dagny found unusual. It simply confirmed that he had heard her at Frida's, had heard every word they'd spoken. She expected him to gloat and grin but instead, he did nothing. He was the same as always, irritated and put out.
Dagny pulled open the door to her and Asdis's one room cabin. It creaked and she rolled her eyes. The door made noise and let in the cold and it would apparently never be fixed. Ivar crawled in behind her.
"I can see that you aren't easing up on your wrist," Dagny said, shutting the door behind him. He slouched against Dagny's bed and shrugged with a grin. Ivar had absurdly blue eyes and short dark hair and a smirk that said he'd taken your worth and found you wanting.
"It is how I get around," he responded.
"But if you hurt your wrist more, it may be so damaged that even I can't fix it." He laughed, an unnaturally happy sound.
"You can fix anything," he declared. The corners of her mouth turned up. He gave praise only occasionally and Dagny liked it more each time.
Dagny rummaged through her things until she found the ointment and new bandages. She sat down on the floor beside him. It was hard and made her already hurting back ache. She wondered how Ivar took it.
He fumbled with the leather brace on his right hand until Dagny finally shooed his hand away and untied it herself. Though he often pretended to be irritated by it, like he was now, Dagny always thought he liked to be babied. She slowly unwound the bandage she placed on his wrist just yesterday. His fingers quivered and she caught a glimpse of his face. Normally he would grimace but today, he just looked back at her.
She tossed the old bandage behind her and took a skeptical look at his wrist. He'd twisted it the wrong way and she hoped he didn't manage to splinter the bone. But it felt strong, not broken at all. She put pressure on it and he didn't wince.
"If anything hurts, tell me," she said. He gave her a real nod.
Dagny took some ointment and ran it along the length of his forearm and down to the knuckles of his hand. It made his skin slick and smooth. She did it slowly, so slowly, that she knew it must be driving him mad. Ivar sucked in a breath and she looked up.
"I'm sorry," she immediately apologized. His expression was, oddly enough, wary. She might have even dared to call him nervous.
"No-" he started. "You didn't hurt me." She nodded and grabbed her new bandages. She pressed the end of the cloth down and began to wind the rest tightly down his wrist. "Where are you from?" She paused. "What were you before my mother bought you?"
"I was an English princess," Dagny replied before she could think better of it.
"Really?" He laughed again and it felt like the time she accidentally fell into a pond and Ubbe had saved her. Ice and loss of breath and chest pain. Gods help her, it was just like drowning.
"No," she admitted. "I don't remember anything before your mother."
"Neither do I." That made her smile.
She finished wrapping his wrist and grabbed his brace. Hair black as oil slid over her shoulder and his good hand quickly pushed it back. She managed to tie the brace wrong and had to start over. When it was finally done, he thanked her, actually thanked her and left.
When the door shut behind him, Dagny let out a breath. "I'm in trouble," she realized, the kind of trouble that came from wanting something you knew was no good.