AnN: This is a loosely based Vikings fic, dealing with original characters as well as setting. If this offends you, feel free to skip!

ALGAR

They had been watching the village for some time, taking refuge in the heavy brush and trees before Algar had given the signal to move forward. He had led them into battle more than once; taking such a place as this would be simple. His kin descended upon the community like a great wave, crushing everything in its path. He smirked as some grabbed whatever pathetic weapons they could find, and watched as they fell to their end. Those who were insubordinate had to be executed. Spilled blood collected into the imprints of dirt, companied with the shrill wails of women and the sniveling men that begged for their lives.

When Algar came upon the sight of such violence, the worst ended. His men did not idle when it came to such tasks; that and the villagers did not harbor much of value. There were a few goats and chickens; the true prize was an elderly heifer, but she was no more than skin and bone. Others, it seemed, had pursued other interests. He eyed the girls whose clothes were ripped and skin riddled with fresh bruises. The look in their eyes told the tragedy that did not need guessing. Whatever was left of their makeshift homes had been torn apart; fires left unattended had morphed into small, widespread patches.

While Algar was known to express confidence in times of war, he was not a cruel beast and his kin were not animals. Sometimes, compassion was as important as brute strength. The young and stronger men were assembled together; as were the women, children and elderly. Each group had a purpose of their own in Algar's mind and his hope was to utilize each to his advantage. He looked over each group, observing their quivering forms plead and shrink in fear. These people are weak…frail and malnourished. They can serve no greater good, nor are their resources as promising as I had hoped, he thought to himself with a discouraged sigh.

His eyes averted from the group of women to a commotion beginning only a few feet from him. An older man had spoken up against one of his men; a fatal mistake. Algar did not see one of his own harassing a young girl. The man was then struck and tossed about like a ragdoll. As Algar descended upon the scene, the older man appeared helpless, raising his arms to shield his face. He recognized one of his own and was prepared to reprimand him. However, as he pushed his way through the small crowd of bystanders, something unexpected occurred.

"Please, stop this now!"

A soft, flowery voice shrieked as a mass of purple fabric fell over the man. Algar was surprised, and confused to find that a young girl had nearly thrown herself over the man, defending him from any further retaliation. It amused him, as the girl appeared delicate, unlike the women in his homelands. What was she prepared to do to protect this man, against strangers who were bigger in size and power? They exchanged a few hushed words that he could not comprehend, and could not help but wonder what importance this man held to her.

It was then that Algar turned his attention to the man that had started the mess, "Fane, what 's the meaning of this!?" he boomed.

"The old man raised his voice…and hand to me; A lesson for all who would think it wise to do the same."

Algar's eyes narrowed, "Which would only instill more fear, and result in a mess that I would have to clean."

Fane lowered his head and moved aside as Algar stepped forward, looking to the girl before him, whose entire body seemed to tremble. Despite the signs of fear, her gaze was locked upon him. He towered over the two, sending a sharp glare to the older man who begged him not to hurt the child. The farmer had done enough talking; it was the female's turn to speak. Algar was interested in what she had to say, able to give respect to her small act of bravery.

"What is this man to you?"

"H-he is my father," her response seemed no more than a whisper.

"Rise to your feet, I would look upon the face of those I speak with. What would you have me do with him?"

He watched as the girl stumbled to her feet, trembling like a newborn calf. As the moments passed, she began to calm and averted her gaze to his own, rather than staring at his feet. Moss colored eyes bore into him, and all Algar saw in her was the same weakness reflected in her people. Pale skin due to the isolation of the village, and small framed. It was strange to him, as his kin reflected strength and survival in every breath. It was then that Algar began to regret his decision to take refuge in these lands. Perhaps they would have fared better chancing the storm.

"Your kind has caused enough damage…enough suffering. I would beg you to spare him."

There was a long pause before Algar spoke again, "Then it is done. What is your name, girl?"

"My name is Ana."

"Well then Ana, take this as a warning, another disturbance like this, and I will not be as forgiving the next time. Do you understand?"

The girl mustered a nod of her head as tears of relief fell from her cheeks. Her father rose to his knees and pulled her into a long embrace, showering her with kisses. Algar averted his eyes and looked over the crowd, his own kin mixed with the villagers. Judging from the information given from a man he had sent to patrol the area, the ashy soil and lessened sunlight did not offer much to this place. While it was not ideal to stay, he knew that his men carried little resources. If he had hoped to reach the mountains north, he could not go on like this. He needed to replenish in food, men and weaponry.

"All of you must listen well. Whatever goods you carry are less than we can use. I will be leading men north, and will require able arms to strengthen my army. Perhaps, we may be able to help one another. There is no need for more bloodshed or violence," Algar bellowed, speaking to not only his men, but to anyone that would heed his words. The villagers seemed confused and his men seemed doubtful, but as ideas tossed about in his skull, he thought of the perfect opportunity to salvage his cause.

"This place is full of bodies of our loved ones. Your people brought carnage to our lands, why would we help you?" an elderly woman asked.

"The frost will be coming in only a few short months. Your people will not survive long enough to see it through, and whatever means you have now to feed your children will be useless. King Cyneric's troops raid villages like these in a matter of days, what will stop them from coming here? What would you do then?"

Those who seemed skeptical fell silent, as they began to understand their own predicament and Algar could see the terror in their eyes as clear as day.

"My men have fought many battles, we know how to survive. We left our homes to destroy the King and once that task is complete, we will return to the mountains from which we came. I offer you clothing, rations of our hunt, and most important, protection. In return, I ask for any able bodied man to join in our cause and fight alongside us. It is my hope that in time, we may all come together, as trusted brother and sister. We also require weapons, though I doubt we will find any here. When spring is upon us, we will take our leave. It is my hope that you would join our ranks, but the choice will be yours."

It was then that Ana rose to her feet, pulling her father along with her. "My daughter's husband is a blacksmith, he may be able to help in some way," he stated.

In this, Algar was relieved. Perhaps there was a way to turn this situation into a positive one. He knew that his greatest task would be in trying to earn the trust of the villagers and assimilating them among his own kin. It was not an easy task, but one he knew he had to accomplish. There was no room for failure; he had too much to lose.

"Everyone will have a role among us; training will be led by Fane and those who have skill in hunting could be of use to Bard and his group. Other trades may be valuable if we have use for it. There is no room for dead weight in my ranks. Women will be useful in the preservation and preparation of meals. Others may have skill in medicine or looking after the children. Everyone will play an integral part in the survival of the group. You will have your families, your children will be safe, and we will get through dark times together. "

"What of those who do not wish to bend the knee to the likes of heathens of the north?"

Those who do not cooperate will be dealt with; you may live under the new rule, or die clinging to your old ways. Either way it makes no difference," Algar growled.

It was then that Algar spoke a word in a foreign tongue, which resembled the tone of a command. His men began to remove the restraints of the villagers, once they felt the group had calmed. There was no more chaos, it seemed that they felt confident enough to stand their ground. The handful of cowards who decided to flee were left be. Algar did not have the men to waste to retrieve them, nor did he wish to keep prisoners against their will. Creating a hostage environment bred fear, which in turn fueled retaliation and chaos. He wanted to avoid any of that if it could be helped.

"Let them go, Esmond. We have no room for cowards, here," he told his second in command.

"Are you certain?"

Algar nodded, "Tomorrow, we start to rebuild. Give orders for the men to set up camp; I will take up the first watch. Tonight, we will share whatever bread we have and hunt for what we do not. These months will be long and treacherous, if I cannot bring these people together, there will be no hope for any of us."

Esmond smirked, "Your father would not have spoken in such a way."

"I will be better than my father was. I will not rely on fear to lead. This power was not one that I wanted, but if I do not take charge, Cyneric will have both of our heads."

"Aye, or feed us to his dogs."