#tanaruz

 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.