#hvitty

Хвитсерк был твоим мужем уже пару лет, и, хотя ты доверяла ему, ты всё равно помнила о его прошлой славе распутного мужчины. Ваша любовь всё равно была безукоризненной друг к другу, и вы не собирались разрушать это.

Приведя себя в порядок, ты выходишь из спальни. Хвитсерк сидевший за столом и поедая свой завтрак сразу обращает внимание на тебя, в отличии от вашей рабыни, которая продолжает очищать посуду после приготовления еды.

— Как спалось? — Хвитсерк не отрывает от тебя взгляд, когда ты подходишь к нему. — Ты, кажется, ворочалась ночью.

— Но в итоге, я заснула. — Твои губы растягиваются в нежной улыбке, когда ты склоняешься к своему мужу и оставляешь поцелуй на его губах, чувствуя тёплые ладони на своей талии.

— Знаешь, я мог бы помочь тебе, с тем чтобы быстрее заснуть, если бы ты только попросила меня, — он говорит тихо, но ты уверена, что ваша саксонская рабыня всё равно его слышит. Она с трудом понимала ваш язык, и прибыла к вам недавно. На самом деле ты была той, кто купил её, думая, что она будет хороша в работе по хозяйству, но ты заметила, как она вела себя рядом с твоим мужем и с тобой, и тебе это не нравилось.

— Может, в следующий раз, я так и сделаю.

Он снова тянется к тебе за поцелуем.

— Сванхилд приготовила вкусный завтрак. Тебе должно понравиться, — произносит Хвитсерк, но ты замечаешь, что девушка всё ещё не оборачивается на тебя.

Тебе не нравиться это. Она всегда так делала, обращала внимание только на твоего мужа, предлагала есть только ему, иногда даже готовила только на него. И сейчас она не предлагает тебе завтрак, ты уверена, что она ждёт, пока ты прикажешь ей подать тебе еду.

— Я не голодна. Потом поем. — Ты проходишься пальцами по волосам Хвитсерка, но кидаешь взгляд на девушку моложе тебя всего на пару лет. — Я хочу сходить в город. Мне нужно на рынок, купить немного ткани.

— Ладно. У тебя есть чем расплатиться? — интересуется Хвитсерк, возвращая внимание к еде.

— Да. Может, я задержусь, хорошо? Я хотела проведать Фрейдис.

Хвитсерк кивает, возвращаясь к своей еде.

***

Ты знала, что делала твоя рабыня. В отличии от неё, ты обладала умом. Поэтому уже несколько дней думала о том, что не одобрил бы твой муж. Хотя ты заметила безразличие Хвитсерка к девушке, ты просто была раздражена её неуважением к тебе, и сколько бы ты не разговаривала с ней, или не пыталась объясниться, ты заметила, что это было впустую.

Поэтому ты приходишь раньше положенного, заходя в дом без стука, и обнаруживаешь её слишком близко стоящей к твоему мужу, который склонился над ней. Они слишком близко. Его руки на её лице, а её на его талии.

— Т\И! — Хвитсерк отстраняется от рабыни. — Я просто помогал Сванхилд, её глаз, туда что-то попало, — Он выглядя как провинившийся щенок.

— Я отрублю тебе голову, если ты не перестанешь так себя вести, — твой саксонский был хорошим, идеальным, потому что ты затратила много дней на его изучение, ещё когда впервые отправлялась в рейд.

Сванхилд сразу всё понимает, отходит от Хвитсерка, выглядящим удивлённым твоим познанием саксонского языка. Он смотрит на тебя так, будто видит впервые.

— Проваливай от сюда, займись своей работой. — Ты всё также говоришь на саксонском, прогоняя девушку.

Она молча и слегка напуганная убегает.

— Ты не говорила, что знаешь саксонский.

— Ты говорил, что любишь меня.

Хвитсерк виновато опускает взгляд, делая шаги к тебе.

— Она сказала, что ей что-то попало в глаз. Я просто пытался ей помочь.

— Она хочет трахнуть тебя. И если ты позволишь ей это сделать, я убью её у тебя на глазах и кастрируя тебя. — Твой голос на самом деле звучит пугающе, заставляя твоего мужа напрячься.

Но он всегда знал, что ты намного мягче и милее, чем кажешься, поэтому его губы растягиваются в довольной улыбке.

— Но ты не сказала, что разведёшься со мной.

Ты сдержанно выдыхаешь, чувствуя себя всё ещё слегка злой.

— У тебя не будет члена, Хвитсерк. Хотя мне нравится твой язык, язык есть и у многих хорошеньких женщин. — Ты пожимаешь плечами. — Зачем мне муж без члена.

Он хмурится от твоих слов и чувствует себя поникшим. Ты лишь проходишь мимо него, направляясь в вашу спальню.

***

Хотя твой муж не одобрял то, как правит Ивар, он всё ещё был его братом. Поэтому Хвитсерк собирался сегодня к нему. Ты же всё ещё валялась под мехами на вашей мягкой кровати. Одна нога была высунута, пока ты прижалась животом к матрасу, твои волосы были беспорядочно разбросаны по подушке, и это зрелище было по-настоящему прекрасно по мнению твоего мужа. Он с трудом отбросил мысль о том, чтобы не залезть снова под одеяла и не доказать свою привязанность к тебе.

— Я вернусь к обеду. — Хвитсерк наклоняется к тебе, оставляя один поцелуй у тебя на щеке.

— Я приготовлю что-нибудь. Не объедайся там.

— Люблю тебя.

— И я тебя.

Конечно, Хвитсерк никогда не сомневался в твоей любви к нему. Он знал, что ты дорожила им и чувствовала к нему, половина слов, которые ты бросала, чтобы напугать его, были не серьёзными. Он никогда не навредил бы тебе, Хвитсерк ценил тебя, потому что на самом деле он потратил много времени и сил, чтобы заполучить тебя в жёны. Ты была лучшем, в его жизни.

***

Конечно, ты никогда не сомневалась в привязанности своего мужа. Но ещё ты также не сомневалась, что он знает, какая ты. Тебе так легко удалось найти общий язык с его младшим братом не потому, что ты влюбилась в Хвитсерка, а потому что у вас было немало общего. То, что пугало всех, но не вас двоих. Эта кровожадность, это властолюбие и собственничество. Если бы Ивар увидел, как какой-то раб неуважительно себя ведёт по отношению к нему и пристаёт к его жене, он бы убил беднягу на месте. Поэтому твоему мужу следует сказать тебе спасибо, за то, что ты хотя бы вывела девушку в лес.

Конечно, это было ради сбора грибов и ягод. Ты отрезаешь очередной гриб, когда одновременно следишь за Сванхилд, которая собирала ягоды. Она наклонена слишком низко, чтобы заметить, как ты размеренно подходишь сзади.

***

Хвитсерк на самом деле не думал, что ты можешь убить вне рейда. Вернувшись домой, он оставляет несколько поцелуев на твоей щеке и шее. Его руки обвиваются вокруг твоей талии, заключая тебя в объятия.

— Как всё прошло? — интересуешься ты.

— Как обычно, — ворчит Хвитсерк.

— Почти всё готово, садись. — Ты оставляешь несколько поцелуев на его губах, чувствуя себя намного довольнее чем раньше.

***

Ты знаешь, что тебе следует быть более аккуратно, когда ты скажешь о том, что сделала сегодня днём. Поэтому ты просто надеялась, что он поймёт тебя правильно.

Тёплая вода ласкала твоё кожу, пока ты сидела напротив своего мужа. Хвитсерк привык, что обычно вы лежите вместе, прижавшись друг к другу. Но сейчас, ты захотела сесть напротив него. Он внимательно и с вожделением следит за тобой, поглаживая твои колени и бёдра. Ему хочется быть ближе с тобой, почувствовать твоё тепло, нежность, твою кожу и привязанность.

— Ты сегодня слишком тихая. — Хвитсерк оставляет поцелуй на твоей коленке. — Всё в порядке?

— Да. Всё хорошо.

Ты меняешься своё положение, пододвигаясь ближе к своему мужу и дотрагиваясь до его талии, обнимая его.

— Я сделала кое-что, что может напугать тебя, я предполагаю.

— И что же? — интересуется он.

— Я убила Сванхилд.

Ты видишь удивление в глазах Хвитсерка, который теряет дар речи на несколько мгновений. Он слегка поникает, пока ты наблюдаешь за ним.

— Иди сюда, — произносит он, приглашая тебя в свои объятия.

Ты прижимаешься к нему, занимая место уже ближе к нему, теперь прижимаясь спиной к его груди. Хвитсерк утыкается носом в изгиб твоей шее, он обнимает тебя одной рукой, вторую держит на твоей ладони. Ваши пальцы переплетаются.

You weren’t surprised to come upon both Ivar and Hvitserk sitting together, talking between themselves.

They did it often, more so now than ever.

What did surprise you though was when you heard Hvitserk mention how saddened he was that he’d yet to have children.

Of all the things he could have been thinking about in the eve of a great battle, you wouldn’t have guessed it was that but still, you didn’t question it.

In a lot of ways, you could understand where he was coming from.

So, after Ivar moved from his place, you took it over, the same topic of conversation now flooding your mind.

“I think I would like to have them too” you shrugged, allowing yourself to have a seat where his brother had just been, not bothering to rehash the conversation you’d overheard between the two men.

Everyone thought about having children.

It was just how you’d been raised, and how the Gods intended it to be.

It was how your society progressed and how your family's lines kept going. You would have been a fool to pretend that wasn’t the natural order of things, and that it wasn’t what you wanted.

Every woman wanted children.

Your mother had had them, and so had her mother, for as far back as your family had been and of all things, the last you wanted was to put an end to that cycle.

Still, it would have been a lie to say that your admission didn’t shock Hvitserk, at least a little.

In all the time that you’d known one another, he’d never thought about you wanting to have children, or even caring about something like that. Though, clearly, he’d been wrong.

“You’ll catch flies like that” you scoffed, gesturing to your friend's mouth, hanging slightly agape as he considered what you were telling him.

It was odd.

Not that he meant for his reaction to be offensive to you in any way. He just didn't have much control over what his face did when you said things like that.

“Sorry” he shrugged, the word leaving his lips quickly, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, and in a way, he had.

It was unavoidable.

“Do you really want to have them?” he repeated your words back to you, almost in awe of the answer he knew was coming before it could.

It just didn’t make sense.

If you wanted children all this time, why wouldn’t you have said something  before now? Why wouldn’t you have settled down and done it by now?

Most women your age had already married and had a few children by this point, and there was nothing stopping you from doing the same if it was what you really wanted.

“Is that so hard to believe?” you countered, not connecting the dots as to why this was so hard for him to understand.

As he knew well, it was just a part of your lives.

People had children and there was no reason you would be any different.

“I guess not. I just never thought about you as a mother” Hvitserk decided, trying not to offend you with every word he spoke.

You certainly could have been, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a wife, it just didn’t seem like what you wanted before today.

You had always been a great warrior.

You had a warrior’s spirit, and more heart than anyone Hvitserk had ever met.

That skill was something that had defined you as you grew older, and by this point, it seemed as though it was what you were meant to do with your life.

It didn’t surprise him to learn that you were quite skilled on the battlefield, when he finally found himself there, by your side all those years ago.

What did surprise him was the number of times you managed to catch him off guard.

This moment included.

Your desire to start a family genuinely wasn’t something he’d seen coming.

“And you see yourself as a father?” you teased, kicking your foot out just enough to bump his boot with your own, finding the whole thing quite humorous.

Your mother had always said you had the body of a mother, and a wife more than a warrior, but the truth was, neither you nor Hvitserk had ever perfectly fit either mold.

You simply moved in the direction the God’s pointed you without a second thought.

It had always worked for you before.

“Perhaps. There are quite a few things I could teach a child, wouldn't you agree?” Hvitserk doubled down, surely signing himself up for even more ridicule from you but doing it anyway.

If anything, he’d earned some of your good spirited torment.

“Of course, someone has to teach them how to eat half a bore in one sitting” you laughed, recalling just how sick he’d made himself on that evening, doing so out of spite and gluttony alone.

Hvitserk couldn’t help but laugh as well, considering the point you made happily.

You had a point.

As far as teaching impressionable children about life skills and survival, neither of you would thrive.

However, that didn’t mean the male in front of you had any doubts about how good of parents you’d be, regardless.

Your heart was made of gold, a gift from the Gods to Kattegat, and there was no possible way you couldn’t pass that on to whatever offspring you may have.

“It is a gift” he chuckled, feigning humility, unable to avoid the obvious truth to your statement. You could both teach children quite a few things, even more if you were together than apart.

It wasn’t until he realized that that he had an idea.

“We could have some” Hvitserk hummed, his words coming out of nowhere, so impulsive and ridiculous that you weren't even sure you’d heard them in the first place.

Surely he didn’t mean that.

He couldn't have meant that.

“I’m sure there is a much more fitting bride in store for you, Hvitserk” you allowed, waving off his comment as an ill received joke. It wasn’t the first he’d told, and it surely wouldn't be the last either.

It was true.

You were sure of it.

There was a beautiful woman out there somewhere, waiting to marry the esteemed Son of Ragnar and bear him as many children as he’d like.

There was no reason for him to fret about it now.

You certainly couldn’t imagine this day to be his last, battle or not, and after this, he had more reason than ever to start the family he so desperately wanted.

“I’m serious. Why shouldn’t we have a few little babes of our own, you and me?” he continued, shocking you with his commitment to the subject.

Most of the time, Hvitserk would have chuckled a bit and moved on to something else entirely but not this time.

For some reason, in the time since you’d sat down, he’d gotten it in his head that the two of you could have children with one another.

Out of nowhere.

“Because Hvitserk, we aren’t married and even if we were, who would raise them? You and I hardly have the time now” you asked, gesturing around you.

A hundred feet to your left, there was a man getting his arm crudely removed with an ax, and to your right was a pit of bodies, scattered about.

It was hardly the place for a child.

Let alone ‘a few’ children.

“We could get married. My feelings for you have never been a secret, and we deserve a family just as much as anyone else, perhaps even more” he kept going, his determination filling you with a familiar pride.

He had always been so passionate about the things he cared about, and you loved that about him.

Above everything else, you had never questioned his heart and whether it was in the right place or not.

Hvitserk was a good person, and the Gods had given you a gift when they brought him into your life.

“You really want to do that? To marry me? To have children together?” you recounted, a small smile blooming on your face as you took your turn considering what it would be like.

As you thought about what kind of father Hvitserk would be, and how you could take a break from all the fighting to raise children of your very own, warriors like their parents.

It was a welcome sight, you had to admit that.

He was right, about all of it.

Hvitserk had always cared very deeply for you, and never tried to keep that a secret. This wasn’t even the first time he’d proposed to you in all the years that you’d known one another, but it was the most serious.

In fact, this was the most serious you’d ever seen him in his life.

The man in front of you took a moment to answer, looking between you and his clasped hands before letting out a sigh of decision.

Of course he wanted that. By this point, he was convinced it was the only thing he wanted, above everything else.

“More than anything”

Again, that finality found its way into his voice, bringing you a peace you never thought possible without even meaning too.

All your life, Hvitserk had been the last one to take himself too seriously, to act as the most mature, prepared between the two of you but now, it was he who was trying to get you to settle down.

It almost felt as if the Gods were teasing you.

Not that you minded.

If Loki himself thought this a proper jest, you would have to thank him every day of the rest of your life.

“Alright, Hvitserk, but you must promise me one thing” you began, setting your sword down completely on the grass, and offering a hand to him which he took without hesitation, bringing him that much closer to you.

Almost too naturally, the male found himself kneeling in front of your seated frame, his hands clasping your own, resting in your lap.

In this moment, you could have asked anything of him and he would have done it happily.

Though, that wasn’t all that different from every other moment you two had shared together. Hvitserk was almost always prepared to pluck the sun from the sky if you asked.

Where you were concerned, he’d always find a way, so whatever it was you wanted from him now, it was yours.

No matter what it was.

“Promise me you aren’t doing this because we may die tomorrow” you prompted, freeing one of your hands to gingerly brush your thumb mindlessly over the bone as you looked into his eyes.

You knew he must have been feeling the pressure this war had brought on, just as you were, but that didn’t mean you wanted to make empty promises to one another.

Love was the most powerful thing in the world but it was also the most dangerous if wrongly placed.

You didn’t want him to promise his heart to you again if he didn’t intend to give it to you fully.

“When have I ever made such rash decisions?” Hvitserk teased this time, finding the fact that you two were having this conversation at all too good to be true.

He never would have thought he’d be here, in the middle of a warzone with the woman of his dreams, discussing children and weddings on the night before he could meet his gruesome end.

Thankfully, if there was one thing Hvitserk was especially good at, it was dealing with things as they arose, rather than having a plan ahead of time.

It was one of the reasons you two worked out so well as a team.

“I’m serious, Hvitserk '' you tutted back, your gentle stroking of his jaw coming to an abrupt stop as you urged the man in front of you to be serious for once, like he’d been before this moment.

You needed to know this was really what he wanted, every day, not just on days when you may get yourselves killed.

“Alright, alright. I promise” he hummed, the biggest grin you’d ever seen evident on his face when he finally realized just what you two had agreed to.

He was getting married.

To you.

 Tanaruz took to you quickly, introducing you to her friends and pulling you along during the day to show you all nooks and crannies of Algeciras. You drew eyes to you, with your height and paleness, together with light eyes and long, blond hair that was almost white.

 In turn, you tried your best to learn the language and culture and entertain Tanaruz, who found you extremely funny for some reason (you suspected it was your terrible Arabic).

 While you never thought that you’d enjoy living in an early medieval civilization, Algeciras was much better than anticipated. It was clean, the people were kind and the weather warm. Your days were much simpler, with a lot of free time when everyone else prayed in the mosques.

 Somehow, they respected you not wanting to go with them.

 Tanaruz’ parents, Aamir and Zoha sold oranges and other citrus fruits on the market, along with chai. In the evenings, the four of you would meet at their stall to eat and close it up. It was simple, a nice reprieve from modern life. Tonight was no different.

 Until it was.

 Suddenly, the quiet night air was filled with screams. Panicked, you looked around until you saw them.

 Men and women armed to the teeth slaughtering everything in their way. You scrambled to get up, ready to run when two reached your stall. Their faces were heavily tattooed and one of them gave you a hungry look.

 Then, he turned away and stabbed Aamir. You clapped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. Zoha’s eyes were wide with terror, searching for Tanaruz, who was crouched under the stall.

 She looked over to you, a sort of beg in her eyes and you understood, diving towards Tanaruz, and grabbing her by the arm roughly.

 As the two of you began running, you heard Zoha scream Tanaruz’ name, before choking on her own blood. You couldn’t look back, Aamir’s death had been bad enough.

 You’d never seen anyone die, much less in front of you, and now, two people that had taken care of you out of the goodness of their hearts had been brutally murdered. Trying not to let your tears blind you, you pulled Tanaruz, who was still frozen in shock into the heart of the city.

 Eventually, she seemed to regain her senses and led you to a wide, blue doorway. When you turned, a light-haired woman was following the two of you.

 She followed you inside the maze of mirrors too.

 Somehow, you lost Tanaruz and froze in place, not wanting to stumble into someone. You were forced to move when another one of the warriors appeared at the end of the tunnel.

 He was tall and lean, maybe two years older than you with light hair and a giddy smile that looked out of place in midst of all the blood that spattered across his face.

 Abruptly, you turned and ran. You could hear him laugh, before taking up the chase. But you knew the mirrors and the way you had come.

 It was incredibly stupid, but you ran outside again, into the maze of the city. The mirrors were a thing of luck, but this city, this was a place where you could actually outrun him.

 You weaved through alleys and larger streets, barely avoiding these men that attacked and slaughtered a peaceful people and suddenly found yourself standing in the middle of a large piazza with a tiled mosaic floor.

 You recognized this place, because it was the first place in the city Tanaruz took you to play with her friends. The man appeared behind you, and you knew you were in deep trouble.

 Unsure of which road to take and caught up in memories, you’d stalled, but you were determined to not let him get you. You started running again, towards one of the alleys leading out of the piazza. When you turn around, you saw him lift his axe, ready to throw it and threw yourself on the ground.

 The axe whizzed past you as you felt the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and realized that you’d bitten down on the inside of your cheek too hard.

 Still, you scrambled to get up and ran into one of the alleys but the men with tattooed faces cut off your escape. You turned, but the blond was standing in front of you.

 Already in pain, you decided that one was better than eight and ran straight at him, breath leaving your body as you impacted with his. You landed on top of him, and he had the audacity to smirk at you, but you didn’t care, heaving yourself up again.

 One of them said something in an unfamiliar tongue, but you were already running again, turning around a corner. You felt your heart sink as another barrage of warriors was in that ally and backed out of it again.

 As you walked onto the piazza, you realized that you were surrounded.

 “þú skulu eigletr mik takþúr, smár kat.” The blonde said, beginning to circle you like prey.

 Suddenly, the blond woman rushed into the square, dragging Tanaruz behind her. She stood in front of you. You couldn’t see her face, but Tanaruz was shaking with her entire body.

 “Nei! hon's minn dóttir, Angrboda!“ she shouted, before wrapping an arm around you. Unsure of what to do, you let her. You were tempted to show the blonde man the finger and couldn’t stop yourself from giving him a small, sassy nod with your head, telling him that he’d lost.

 ***

 You didn’t expect to stay alive for long after that, but the woman seemed insistent on taking you both in. Tanaruz was silent, not eating or speaking and eyed you with something you couldn’t place when you tried to learn their language.

 The woman was kind, but her insistent need to call you Angrboda confused you. Many times, you’d pointed at yourself and told her your real name, even saying it in their language but she never listened.

 Hvitserk, that was what the blond man was called, looked at you like a kicked puppy every time you sneered. You would’ve felt guilty if you didn’t know that he was about to rape you.

 One night, Tanaruz was crying. You tried to comfort her, but she pointed towards the woman called Helga and then her eyes. It took you a while, but you eventually understood what she meant.

 Tanaruz thought that Helga had the evil eye. A charm with Fatima’s hand had been given to you by Zoha after you yourself had gotten fearsome looks, but with the liner Helga was wearing, the resemblance was even more prominent.

 Quietly, you lifted the necklace from your neck and pressed it into Tanaruz’ hand.

 “Fatima.” You explained, “From Zoha.” Then, in very rocky Arabic, you gently added, “I be sorry.”

 Tanaruz looked at you, her mouth slightly curving upwards. “I am sorry.” She corrected, but cuddled into your arms nonetheless.

 ***

 Kattegat was the hell you’d imagined from being a time traveler, but at least you weren’t one of the women being sold as slaves.

 Instead, Helga dragged you and Tanaruz into a small house. Floki began to make something out of wood while Helga cooked a stew. You looked over to Tanaruz, feeling a deep worry. She hadn’t eaten since that night, and even then, a few slices of orange didn’t count.

 Helga began to attempt to feed Tanaruz, but she wouldn’t budge.

 “You need eat.” You urged her, still using your terrible Arabic. “If you leave me alone, I know won’t what to do.”

 Tanaruz didn’t even correct you and that worried you even more. You crouched down before her, staring into her deep brown eyes.

 “Please. You need to stay alive. When we alone, we run home.” You promised. It was unlikely, but Tanaruz needed something to hold on to.

 “My home was burnt by the --------.” She said. Still, she slowly took the spoon from Helga and began eating.

 Just in that moment, the door sprang open. No one stood in the doorway, but a noise made you look down. A guy that had to be your age was pulling himself over the ground.

 Fascinated, you looked down at him, while Tanaruz scrambled away. She was afraid of all of them, except maybe Floki.

 While Ivar looked confused, he began a quick conversation with Floki that you couldn’t follow. Then he turned to look at you, asking for your name. That you understood.

 “Angrboda.” Helga said quickly.

 “Y/N.” you corrected firmly. Something seemed to click in Ivar’s head by your name, but you knew him from hearsay too.

 In your terrible, terrible Norse, you attempted to make conversation with him. “You Ivar. Hvitserk and Bjorn talk.” You managed. Ivar nodded.

 Not really caring about whether or not your clothes got dirty, you sat down on the dusty floor and handed him a cup. Ivar glanced at Floki, as if he wasn’t sure what to think about your actions, but the man only shrugged.

 “Hon's stranger mær.” Floki said. You had an idea, suddenly. You liked Ivar and wanted to show him something you’d seen in Kattegat. He looked like he didn’t have many friends his age.

 Glancing over to Tanaruz, you saw that she’d curled up in a corner and fallen asleep. You looked at Helga. “I trust you to take care of her.” You said quietly in your own tongue, but she seemed to understand.

 Then you turned back to Ivar. “Come.” You said, motioning with your hand to follow you. A dragging sound behind you let you know that he was coming along. The sun was already setting when you walked into the small alcove and sat down, patting the space next to you.

 Here, in this alcove where it looked like the sun set the water aflame, you felt like you were at peace.

 Ivar stared at you, confused but you simply pointed at the sunset. Taking off you boots and rucking your skirt up to your calves, you let the waves splash around your legs. The cool water was the only thing keeping you awake, a sudden exhaustion seeping in due to your constant awake state.

 As you leaned your head on the rocks, you realized that Ivar had closed his eyes and was smiling slightly.

 ***

 Two weeks passed, and slowly, Tanaruz was coming out of her shell. Your promise of home seemed to keep her going, but she was still cold towards most people.

 She seemed to like Floki, who showed her magic tricks and let her carve with wood. He taught her Norse in turn, and she assured you that you could leave her alone sometimes. Tanaruz also liked to play chess with Ivar sometimes, to your great surprise.

 Though she always lost, she seemed determined to beat him one day.

 Both you and Tanaruz were relieved when Helga insisted on coming on the raid to England. The two of you only talked to Floki, Hvitserk, Ivar and sometimes Helga, all of which would be leaving.

 On the last day in Kattegat, Ivar showed you his new chariot. Tanaruz and Floki came too, and you laughed as Ivar drove past, while Tanaruz gave a shy smile.

 Together, the four of you walked back towards Kattegat, where a feast would see off the Great Heathen army. You were uncomfortable with taking Tanaruz, since Harald and Halfdan would be there, but Helga insisted.

 The feast was loud, and the Great Hall filled as people danced and drank. Almost immediately, Tanaruz spotted Harald and Halfdan and you quickly pulled her away, into a quiet corner.

 She was silent now, and you knew it was going to take her days until she would speak again. Your own hand was tightly wrapped around a cup you were holding.

 A clear voice ripped you from your dark thoughts. “Angrboda.” The woman said, standing in front of you. Her name was Lagertha, and she was the queen of Kattegat.

 “Y/N.” Ivar corrected, sitting down at your side. You nodded in agreement.

 “You were taken on my son’s raid.” She began, slowly enough for you to understand. “But Helga decided to take you and this girl in.”

 You nodded, unsure where this was going. Ignoring Ivar, she stared at you intensely. “I hope you know who you owe allegiance to.”

 She intimidated you, but you didn’t let that show. “I don’t owe allegiance to any of you.”

 It was probably not the best idea to butt heads with a monarch like Lagertha, but Tanaruz was shaking like a leaf next to you, and you still hated them for transforming her into a ghost of her former self.

 Lagertha looked like she wanted to say something, but another brother, Ubbe, called for her.

 After a while, Hvitserk sat down next to Ivar, completely ignoring you and Tanaruz. No one was watching, and you took your chance to pull her away, outside.

 The cold night air was harsh on your skin, and Tanaruz began to shiver as you wrapped her furs tighter. The new clothes as well as your jewelry had been gifts from Ivar, and a few from Hvitserk, who still seemed insistent on flirting with you.

 All in all, the two of you looked much more regal than two kidnapped people should. But the clothes felt like a metaphor for your gilded cage.

 Tanaruz pulled you to the beach and you sat down on the cold sand. A few meters away, a foreign merchant had lit a fire, looking out into the ocean alone. Ignoring him, you laid back, trying to explain all the different stars to Tanaruz. The girl’s eyes began to close, and you picked her up. She was too heavy to carry, but you could give her a piggyback ride home.

 When you’d settled Tanaruz into her bed, you walked back out towards the beach. Suddenly, you stopped feeling uneasy. When you looked behind you, a tall man was at the other end of the alley.

 You’d seen him around, and he’d always filled you with unease. He was a creep, invading the personal space of slaves that couldn’t say anything about it. Speeding up, you began to walk away, but he matched your pace.

 When you began to jog towards the Great Hall, he picked up his pace. Realizing that this guy wasn’t going to let off, you bolted towards the Hall, but he caught you around your waist and threw you to the ground.

 Before you could scream, he clapped a hand over your mouth. You searched for something to protect yourself, finding a small rock on the muddy ground and brought it against his temple, hard.

 He stumbled backwards and you got up, but there was a house behind you. He began to run towards you when suddenly, he gurgled and fell to the ground. An axe was sticking out of the back of his head.

 Hvitserk stood right behind him, chest still heaving from an adrenaline rush. You felt queasy at the gory sight in front of you.

 “Hello little cat.” He smirked.

 You wanted to insult him, say something, but your mouth felt dry. Reaching up, your fingers felt blood trickling from a cut on your forehead you didn’t realize you had.

 “Ouch.” You complained, wiping the blood off.

 Hvitserk said something about Helga, and you wanted to stop him, knowing that she would be a little overbearing, but he already walked away. Then, Hvitserk turned back and pressed a knife into your hand, before disappearing again.

  You sank down on the ground, still scared from prior events. A few minutes later, Helga ran into the alley, visibly shaken. Behind her, Floki, Ivar and Hvitserk followed. Ivar looked positively furious, staring at the dead body next to you with an expression of anger while Hvitserk seemed almost proud of himself for saving you.

  Helga seemed unsure what to do, but Floki stepped forward and pulled you up. Only then did you notice how shaky your legs actually were. Hvitserk stepped forward to support you, oblivious of how his own actions might be uncomfortable to you now. Together, they brought you to the longhouse.

  Tanaruz was still sleeping as Helga began to fuss over the cut on your forehead, just as you'd anticipated.

  "Who sent him?" Ivar asked you. "Was it Lagertha?"

  You shook your head. "I've seen him around. I think he mistook me for a slave."

  Hvitserk snorted. "You don't look like a slave." he said. "He just couldn't control himself."

  "Like you?" you shot back. He had the grace to look away.

   ***

  Tanaruz was finally beginning to learn to speak Norse.

  She was sitting with Helga, trying to copy her stitches as the woman fixed a sail. You were a little off to the side. Ivar had stubbornly put his head on your lap, silently asking him to play with your hair.

  You didn't mind, watching as the other brothers loaded up crates on longships.

  Suddenly, Ivar sat up. He stared at you with a suspicious expression.

  “You’re not a spy. Right?” he asked.

  You had to laugh. “What makes you think that?”

  “The way you treat me.” Ivar mumbled. You felt your heart break for him.

  “Don’t you think I’d be a terrible spy. I could barely speak Norse when I came here!” you giggled, smiling at Ivar brightly.

  Ivar was still looking at you with a hint of unsurety. “What can I do to prove you wrong?” you asked, throwing your hands up in mock surrender.

  He stayed silent, but a blush appearing on his cheeks told you that his thoughts were running wild. Well, if that was what he wanted…

  You placed a soft kiss on Ivar’s lips, hoping that he wouldn’t immediately kill you, before turning away. “That enough proof?” you muttered, already regretting the action.

  “Do it again.” Ivar commanded. Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you turned around and kissed Ivar, your heart fluttering at the innocence of the kiss.

  “Brother we’re-“ Hvitserk began, suddenly standing in front of you. Slightly annoyed, you let go off Ivar. He let out a huff, staring at his brother angrily.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Nevermind.” Hvitserk said. Was that jealousy in his voice?

  You patted the free spot next to you. “Come on, tell us what you wanted to say!” you commanded.

  “We’re ready to go. Everyone’s already on the ship.” He replied.

  Nodding, you got up and climbed into the longship, where Tanaruz was already waiting for you. This time, she looked excited rather than scared, looking out to the sea as another passage began for her.

  The peace of it all was suspicious, but you were glad that Tanaruz was adapting. She’d told you she wanted to try, if only it meant that she’d be able to go back home. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it probably wouldn’t work.

  Almost immediately after leaving, a soft rain began to patter down. Quickly, Helga gave you and Tanaruz a few furs while warriors and slaves began to cover the ship.

  Under the plane of fabric, it was dark, but peacefully. Tanaruz burrowed into your side and the rocking of the ship quickly made your eyes droop with tiredness. You let yourself fall asleep, the darkness and warmth of the fur giving you a feeling of security.

  Hvitserk’s POV:

 He sat at the other end of the boat as he watched Tanaruz crawl into her lap and fall asleep. He still wasn’t sure what to call her, Angrboda or her actual name. He still remembered the old Angrboda. They had nothing in common but Helga’s features. Pale hair and blue eyes.

  Truth be told, Hvitserk was jealous of his little brother. He was the one who discovered her. Why couldn’t he have her?

  Yet she’d kissed Ivar.

  Speaking of him, the nuisance his brother was now sitting next to him.

  “You still want her.” Ivar observed. Hvitserk nodded before he could stop himself.

Ivar was wearing that smug grin when he turned to look at him. One that Hvitserk would’ve wiped off of him with a punch if he was Sigurd.

  “You can’t keep her to yourself, brother.” Hvitserk mumbled. “She has a mind of her own.”

  “Whatever you say, Hvitty.” Ivar teased cruelly. He was wearing that shiteating grin of his again. Hvitserk looked away, back to her. She shifted in her sleep, mumbling something unintelligibly as she rolled over. The cut on her forehead was barely visible anymore.

  He’d saved her. Hvitserk knew why she stayed away from him, but still, hadn’t that been enough to get her to trust him.

  Unlike Margrethe, he couldn’t read her.

  “She’ll come around.” Hvitserk replied, settling down to sleep. He’d had enough of Ivar’s ramblings for the night. Of course, Ivar would keep on talking for the next few hours, but as long as Hvitserk nodded form time to time, he’d be left alone.