#greenlander

At the orders of their King, the Vikings began to jump overboard, wading through the water to the shoreline. ‘Come my precious gem’ the King said with complete animosity to Mathilda, while in a gentleman-like fashion held his hand out for her to take ahold of. Shouting at the Vikings below, two strong men held their arms out in reach as Canute effortlessly picked Mathilda up by her underarms, lowering her into the careful grips of the Vikings beneath her. Canute then jumped down himself, landing with a heavy splash before picking up Mathilda bridal style, and walking her to the shore. Soft footsteps came up behind me, but I just kept my gaze down, hiding my red eyes behind my H/C locks. A soft, yet harsh skim of a finger ran its way between the strands of my hair, in an attempt to push them behind my ear. ‘Saxon’ he whispered, but I walked away. I couldn’t deal with whatever Harald was going to lecture me about, I just needed to get off this fucking boat. 

Peering over the side, the drop in the water was much higher than I expected. The Vikings did it as if it were second nature, but after weeks of sitting, and unsteadiness, this was going to hurt. Closing my eyes, I prepared myself for the pain that would likely shatter through my already bruised and weak knees. Hoisting myself forward, the feeling of two hands grasping my waist in the midst of falling, made my landing much softer than anticipated, but not pain-free. Peeling my eyes open, I was surprised to see that it was not Harald who had caught my fall as he would so often try to play hero when it favoured him, but instead to find myself in the grasp of the Greenlander. Somewhat surprised and fear struck, I locked my gaze with his, hidden behind a few strands of hair. He simply nodded before unravelling his fingers from around my waist and walking off to the shoreline himself. A splash of water radiated from my side, splashing up to my core, before my arm was harshly grasped by my captor and I was being pulled to the shore along with him. His emotions never seemed to be a constant…he was unpredictable at the best of times, but clearly something was shaking him now. 

The sound of clanging swords against wooden shields would have carried miles away, however wherever we had landed seemed to be completely deserted. While the Vikings were reputable for their savage nature, they certainly were meticulous when it came to strategising. 

Like a shepherd leading its flock, Canute marched along the coastline toward the deep forest that lay ahead, disappearing into the summit with his hand ferociously entwined with Mathilda's. The Vikings followed obediently, weapons hanging off their bodies, many carrying mounds of supplies effortlessly without exasperation. With his rigid grip still on my arm, I had no choice but to keep haste with Harald's supposed urgency. The Greenlander ahead glanced back at us from time to time. Everything in me wanted to just thrust my arm away, but from Canute’s reaction to a simple mistake he made, I wasn’t in a position to be defiant and likely get away with it. Taking two steps to match one of his, we strode into the dark green forest, hundreds of Vikings in tow, disappearing into the thicket. These Vikings seemed to thrive on adrenaline alone, but whatever their motivation was for this journey, there was something more sinister behind it. 

The daylight disappeared underneath the thicket of branches and leaves that shrouded the sky above. Blinkers of light would emerge from the vast clearings that appeared few and far between. Every step taken, I could feel my body's natural urge to buckle underneath me. What did they need me for, exhaustion had long taken over, I could just beg to let them leave me, but Harald’s tight grip opposed that request. He needed something from me, but I still couldn’t figure out what. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a growl from ahead, followed by a deep menacing laugh. Suddenly the sound of crunching leaves and sticks was replaced by the sound of harsh thuds and beating of metal against wood as the Vikings followed suit by roaring and shouting in sinister delight. Looking up for what felt like the first time since we entered the forest, the peak of the mountaintop was flat instead of a continuous drag like it had been the entire day. We had reached the summit, and the sun had now gone. Below the summit was a clearing of untouched fields, vastly empty and with no sign of any other person. A moonlit gleam caught the soft essence of light reflecting off a watery surface as a riverbed surrounded the clearing before disappearing into the distance. Looking beyond the clearing and into the distance, a city emerged by the sight of flames illuminating the stone walls from the shadows of night. Vastly familiar, I trailed my eyes curiously across the panorama of the stone wall. A bridge adjacent, the city floating like a tiny independent island. It was then the realisation of where we were hit me as I choked on my own breath. I could feel my shoulders dramatically rising and falling, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. My heart rapidly beat against my chest, threatening to burst from beneath the skin. The sound of a thud from ahead caught my attention. Mathilda had fallen to the ground, a catatonic state as her fragile body fell to the ground. She too had realised where we were, and I was close to following suit. ‘Saxon’ he questioned, but it was too late. Nausea swept over my body as if a wind were picking up a feather, the world went dark before I could feel my body hit the ground. 

It was like my body was back on the vessel. The gentle rocking, yet total instability beneath. The feeling of nausea and spinning in my head, the cool crisp breeze, similar to that of ocean air. But I knew that couldn’t be the case, we had just spent weeks on a boat, and we had landed straight in the lion's den. London. It was beginning to make sense. His vague deal in the bathtub that night. Here we were, and the time was now. Maybe if I kept my eyes closed, floating in this strange catatonic emptiness, maybe they wouldn’t need me. Maybe the sight of my fainting was enough to make them realise that I clearly couldn’t be much help to their planned evils. ‘Vér munu setjuppr kamp hí’. I could make out Canute’s deep growl as he addressed whomever. Suddenly gravity shifted as my body was lowered downward, slowly opening my eyes to find Harald’s face right in front of my own as he untucked his arms from beneath me, laying me gently on the grassy field. Gazing around, we were no longer at the summit like we were before, but beneath it. The city of London was now invisible over the horizon of which it was so visible from above. The sound of banging radiated through my ears as the Vikings around began to pitch marquees and tents into the ground, others scraping rocks together to light fires. Whatever the Viking's intention was, our stay in London evidently wouldn’t be short. 

Before I could even gather the strength to make myself useful, the sound of a strong marching stomp pounded and vibrated against the grass closer and closer until a dim silhouette stood above me. ‘Come’ Canute demanded. Still, in awe, more present in dreamland than in reality, it clearly tested his patience as it was within seconds which I was ripped from the ground by my forearms. His shadow marched forward toward the large marquee which had already been put up, four figures stood around the table as I slowly made my way to follow the bloodthirsty king. Harald, Canute, Mathilda and the Greenlander stood around the table. The intent was clear when the powerful manage to stand united instead of fighting for once, this wasn’t just an idea they were planning, they were waging a war. Not only were they waging a war, but it was certain, that I was the key to its success. 

‘How long did you live in Æthelred’s castle Saxon?’ the King questioned. I dared not look him in the eye, sure he was intimidating, but he was bloodthirsty and unpredictable, and I could not bring myself to face him. ‘It seems an age, your grace, at least half my lifetime’ I responded no louder than a diminished whisper. ‘You know his castle well, yes?’ So this is what they wanted. Information…why didn’t he just use Mathilda for this? Mathilda, like me had also spent an age there too. He clearly had her wrapped around his finger, why did he have to drag me all this way? ‘Saxon’ Harald whispered in my ear. I simply nodded in regard to his question. ‘Your King, what do they call him?’ he interrogated. I feel he knew the answer, but this was a power move to prove to his comrades in arms that their feat would be a successful one…under his command of course. ‘The Unready…’. His deep laugh indicated his satisfaction with my answer to his question. ‘UNREADY’ he growled, earning a few shouts of delight from the Vikings who continued to set up camp. I looked to Mathilda, a concerned frown upon my face, she simply raised her eyebrow, shrugging her shoulders with a stone-cold look on her face. ‘Tell me, Saxon, it is rumoured the Saxon King has a young wife, a beautiful one at that, a descendant of Vikings herself, is this true?’ he questioned with a sultry tone to his voice. ‘Mathilda worked very closely under her majesty’ I responded. Mathilda’s face almost dropped, her body tensed, frozen like a stag just before its death at the hands of a huntsman. The King walked back toward the table, rounding Mathilda, a frown upon his face. ‘You did not tell me this my precious gem’ he said, almost interrogatingly as he craned his neck to meet her diverted eyesight. Her eyes began to glaze over, shaking her head in denial as he grasped her thin forearm, wrapping his entire hand around without having to stretch his fingers. Her skin began to turn red as anger clearly emerged over the King, Mathilda adamantly shaking her head in denial. 

Upon reflection, it seemed rather curious that Canute so desperately wanted information from me, instead of questioning his new loyal and ‘precious gem’. Anything he asked me, she would have known the answer to as well, but seemingly by his reaction, she had held her tongue quite well. ‘I don’t like liars’ he spat in her ear, his teeth seething as his saliva spat over her cheek. ‘P…p…please’ she stuttered, fear struck in shock. ‘I only met her the same day your people rescued me’ she cried. Rescued? Same day? Then I caught on. 

It would have been easy to watch her become consumed by her own lies…but she still seemed too fragile for whatever punishment the bloodthirsty King had in mind. ‘YOUR GRACE’ I called, catching his attention as his red face turned toward me angrily. ‘Begging your pardon, I meant Annora, not Mathilda, she came with us to the homeland’ I desperately pleaded. ‘Annora…?’ he questioned slowly trailing towards me, uncuffing his harsh grasp from Mathilda’s. ‘One of the other girls who came with us your grace, she and the other one Celestine…’ while his anger had not escaped him, it was dormant for the time being. He rounded me, just like he had Mathilda before. ‘A dead person tells no tales Saxon, and is certainly of no use to me’. Taking a deep breath at the realization of this new information, I could hear Mathilda’s breath hitch in her throat too. Suddenly the sound of a smack overturned my senses, followed by the feeling of a deep hot heat radiating from my skull as I fell to the ground, managing to catch my fall with my hands. I looked up to find Canute striding back to Mathilda, brushing the palm of his hand over the top of Mathilda’s head and pulling her head in for a kiss on her forehead as she gently sobbed at the news of Annora. He then trailed his arm around her shoulders, leading her away to his private tent dismissing the meeting. 

‘Come Saxon’ Harald whispered, directing his arm toward a small tent pitched near the Kings, but I couldn’t stand to be anywhere near Canute, nor Harald. Instead, I diverted from Harald shaking my head and walked away from the marquee toward the outskirts of the pitched flaming torches which surrounded the bounds of the campsite in a perfect circle. With hundreds of Vikings, it was easier to blend into the crowd and not draw too much attention as everyone was fixated on setting up camp. I trudged just outside the boundary toward a large boulder that sat ahead on the grass, sitting behind it in order to gain some sense of privacy from the camp of the Vikings but still bask in some of the heat produced by the roaring fires emitted around the campsite. The smell of fish cooking away over the fire danced around my senses, but I didn’t feel like eating. Instead, I felt anger eating me up from the inside. Whether it was directed toward Harald, Mathilda, Canute or this whole stupid verge of war we were on. Being ripped away from one shitty situation to another, only to come back to be a part of the revenge or pitiful resolution, why was I in the middle of it all? Swiftly I grabbed some of the grass from the ground beneath, hacking away resulting in little patches of dirt. It wasn’t the best way to let off steam, but it was the only option I had. That was until a swift chuckle emerged from behind me.

 ‘Go away Harald’ I demanded, no fear in the consequence of addressing him by his name. ‘I’m not Harald, but it is who I wanted to talk about’ an unfamiliar voice stated behind me. Whipping my head around, I looked to find the Greenlander standing on the other side of the boulder, leaning over the rough crevices of its surface. Eyes fixated on him, he slowly rounded the boulder, hands up in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. He then took a seat on the ground next to me, crossing his arms, outstretching his legs, and arrogantly flicking his hair back. 

‘Leif Erikson’ he stated candidly. I looked toward him to find his eyes already directed at me. I stared back, unsure as a captive how to respond to his introduction. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, raising his eyebrows as if to prompt a response. ‘Y/N’ I stated. ‘Y/N’ it felt weird rolling off my tongue. Nobody had bothered to ask me what my name was, not even the man who had me sleeping under his own roof. ‘Y/N’ he replied in his thick accent, stretching out the last syllable as if to really imprint it into his mind. ‘You and I are similar Y/N, neither of us wants to be here all that much’ he said, directing his gaze away as if we were old friends having a conversation. I curiously followed his gaze to find he wasn’t looking at anything in particular, but I couldn’t shake the feeling he wanted something from me. ‘What is your loyalty to Harald?’ he asked me curiously. ‘What do you mean my loyalty?’ I questioned back. ‘Are you in love with him?’ he asked. I almost wanted to laugh. ‘He’s my captor’ I replied. ‘But that doesn’t answer my question’ he stated. ‘I think it does’ I replied in a nonchalant manner. He simply nodded in response, but I don’t think he was entirely convinced. ‘My sister, let’s just say she finds him…fascinating’ he stated. The blonde, it immediately clicked in my mind who she was now. ‘I want my sister to be happy Y/N’ he almost growled. ‘I think Harald Sigurdson makes her happy, and I want him to continue to make her happy’ I nodded in response. Whilst I didn’t particularly have any pleasant interactions with the blonde, I wouldn’t say I hated her…but I wouldn’t say I liked her either. ‘When this is all over, will you go back with Harald?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think that's up to me Leif Erikson, like I said before, he’s my captor’. ‘Do you want to go back with him?’ At this moment, I would have liked to have said no, but something in my gut was holding me back…uncertainty. ‘I don’t have a choice in my fate Leif Erikson’ I stated. This answer, whether it satisfied him or dissatisfied him, all he did was nod in response.