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The Viking (closed)

Viking women and English women were treated the same by their men. They were possessions, there to work and to breed, little different from the animals they possessed. The exception to this was the Shield Maidens who had the respect of all men. The women trained harder and fought fiercer than any man and violating or disrespecting a Shield Maiden would result in their death, if not that day, some day in the future. Of all the Maidens through time, Astrid was the fiercest and the most respected.

They may be lumbering brutes, but Viking warriors were very astute in the position and status of their fellow warriors. Astrid had the King’s ear and trust and now it seemed she had a new pet, the English Lady.

The English Lady had challenged their King at every opportunity, yet within hours, the Lady was bowing to their most revered Shield Maiden. As they left the church, each one pressed a hand on Astrid’s shoulder, even one saying, “Have you given your pet a name?” and roared with laughter, which was followed by belly aching laughter from the others.

Lady Helen smiled towards that warrior and whispered, “May Frigg, the Goddess of fertility, whither your balls and shrivel your cock.”

The warrior went silent and then bent over in laughter, stood tall and patted Astrid’s shoulder, “Good luck with this one.”

An English nobleman would have been shocked to the bone. Little shocked a Viking warrior and they each had a very crude sense of humor.

Thanks to Astrid, no warrior would touch Lady Helen and if one did, they would regret it for the rest of their very short life.

Lady Helen listened carefully to William and the Leader. She had difficulty translating ‘hate’ and ‘partner’ could mean many things.

The Lady whispered to Astrid, “I don’t trust William or your leader,” and then she feigned fainting, hoping Astrid would catch her before her head bounced off the tile floor.
 
A pounding at the Great Hall's door led to Horvik taking a report and hurrying up to speak to Eric in a way not intended to alert the others to the report. Eric looked to Astrid and commanded before heading for the still open door, "Take her to her quarters. We will discuss this more later."

But just a few steps later, Eric looked back to William and gave him a command as well. "Ensure that Lady Helen understands that any betrayal by her will result in her men being castrated ... their jewels fed to them raw as they bleed out before their wives' eyes ... who, themselves, will be raped to death before their children's eyes ... who themselves will then be branded with a hot iron before being sold into slavery to the most vile and vicious tribes of Europe."

He hesitated to glance at Helen before continuing, "Then, ensure that Lady Helen understands that I will not kill her. I will instead let her live ... shackled in her own dungeon with the rats and rot ... so that she will have her remaining days to recall the tragedies which she herself brought upon her people ... to wonder for the rest of her life whether or not it would have been easier to just do as I say."

And then he was gone.

William, for his part, just stood there on the dais for a long moment, wondering just how much of Eric's accent-heavy, quickly spoken threat the Englishwoman had deciphered. He finally drew a breath and interpreted his majesty's words: "King Eric has requested your loyalty ... 'less your people suffer."

Okay, so it wasn't exactly what Eric had said. But William hadn't been about to repeat all of that, not because of the promise's length but because of its content. And besides, Helen didn't speak Norse well enough to have caught it all and Astrid didn't speak English enough to know either. And, of course, Eric was gone. So ... fuck it.

(TooDamn, your turn. :))
 
Lady Helen was used to servants tending to her needs, at times, even dressing and undressing her.

It was the first time she had seen Astrid blush and it brought out a softness in her that she found quite appealing.

She tried to disguise a smile and gave the sternest look she could muster. “How dare you!” and she paused. With a whimsical softness in her voice, she said “How dare you call me ‘Lady’ when we are alone. For you, I am Helen.”

Lady Helen dared to take Astrid’s hand. “I’ve never had a friend. I was sheltered growing up and when I was forced to marry the Lord, most people wanted to get in my good graces to please the Lord, not me.”

She rushed to her bureau and opened a jewel encrusted box. “Lokaou augunum,” Helen said to Astrid, hoping she understood and closed her eyes.

Silently she walked to Astrid and held the Dragon’s Eye jeweled necklace in front of her. “Opnaou augun,” and waited for Astrid to open her eyes.

“A traveler gave this to my Grandmother and said it was created by Mars, the red god of war; it’s believed that when warriors rub their bodies with this jewel, they become invulnerable and it has been handed down to me. I don't want you hurt in battle. This is a … a … Gjof, a gift from me to you. Please accept it.”
 
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Helen knew that her infatuation was dangerous and aside from her feelings, Astrid was a Viking and would kill her people as easily as stepping on a bug.

Her heart was pulled in two directions and she was overjoyed when Astrid took the necklace in her hand. She understood Astrid when she said ‘wonderful, magnificent…’ but she also understood, ‘I cannot take this…’

Astrid’s earlier slap had hurt, but nothing like this. Her mind closed and Astrid’s words about her king became lost in a world of disappointment.

The next words she heard were, ‘Take this back.” Lady Helen snatched it back and threw it across the room.

“I have business to attend to,” and she stomped out of room in search of Ashlin and the Captain of her Guard, who was most likely dead. If Ashlin was harmed she would exact her anger on these Viking criminals.
 
Helen tried to shake off the grasp from Astrid and gritted her teeth when Astrid demanded her to not leave. The chill in the room became colder than a Norwegian fjord at the height of winter.

She tried to control her voice and her anger. “I am the Lady of Briarwood and YOU will not give orders to me. Do you understand … shield maiden?”

Moments passed in silence, Helen’s head tilted up to lock her eyes with Astrids’ and Astrid looked down into the eyes of Helen. Helen thought she saw Astrid's eyes go from surprise, to anger, sympathy, confusion, sadness and hurt and Helen's heart sank.

She wanted to slip in Astrid’s arms and beg forgiveness, but she was a Viking and she served her king.

She was the enemy of all Vikings, except one, the one before her. She couldn’t put Astrid in harms way from her own people.

As Lady of this town she had made many decisions that were made by necessity and not by desire.

It was killing her as she repeated, “Do you understand.” This time a statement, not a question.

Not a second passed when Bella burst into her chambers. Since the Viking attack, Helen’s world had turned upside down and her patience had been stretched well beyond her limits.

“How dare you enter my chamber without permission.” She had never raised her voice to one of her subjects.

“Kneel before me or I will have you flogged.”

If Betta did kneel, she would never get up and she clasped her hands together as if praying. "Please, my lady, please!" … “They raped little Anna, and now they've taken her again."

Anna, the sweetest girl in the town. Everybody loved her and her delicate ways. Helen had met Anna in the market just the week prior and they shared an apple together.

Helen turned to the shield maiden. “When I pray tonight, I will pray that God strike down every one of you heathens.”
 
Life in the former Briarwood was beginning to look a little normal by sundown of its first day as Erikenvik. At least, it was for the Vikings...

The long boats had been brought up from their hiding place in a narrow tributary to the Blythe River. One was already being stocked for its return to Hurstvik, to announce the capture of the English town and to demand reinforcements...

The slaves who had been with the boats were now in Erikenvik serving their masters again. The middle of the hardwood floor of the Great Hall -- once the English chapel -- had been torn out with axes and now had a fire pit built into the middle of it. Eric took delight in watching the pews hacked and smashes to build the pit's first fire. A goat was now turning black over the flames, the smoke of the fire escaping through the vent holes that had previously been stain glass windows...

The surviving males of the village who had continued to show resistance were shackled in one of the town's homes, while those who hadn't put up a fight had been put to work under guard. Some had helped row the boats up the progressively narrower and, therefore, faster flowing Blythe; while others were building additional defenses outside the walls...

Earlier, when Eric had left Astrid and Helen standing together in the Great Hall, he had ascended the wall to look out upon a scouting party of neighbors who had come to within view of the town to check the situation. At the first sign of the Vikings coming out at them, the party dispersed and disappeared into the woods. Not a one of them had been caught, and Eric presumed that by sunup, every town within 50 miles would know that Briarwood had fallen...



(OOC: This took so long because I had to get permission from TooDamn to god mode her character.)

The former priest's quarters were beginning to look more Viking in nature now. The soft English features had been removed, from colorful tapestries to busts of Christian saints and more. Eric's fur blankets now covered the bed, and one corner of the room included a haphazard pile of valuables, mostly gold but also silver, gem, and more taken from the chapel and the homes of the more wealthy. (The only room in the whole of the town that hadn't been pillaged was Helen's own bedroom, although the treasury that had been adjacent to the dungeon had been broken into and cleaned out.

Eric was standing near a table in his new bedroom reviewing some maps and documents with William -- who was translating and explaining the ones in English -- when Horvik came through the door with the elbow of a young English woman in one strong hand.

"A gift, my king," the Viking said, shoving the pretty blonde forward.

Eric looked the woman up and down. She was dressed ina beautiful tan dress typical of the royalty or even the more wealthy of nobility of the rural areas. Eric presumed by her expensive appearance that she was a noble, perhaps a relative of Lady Helen, as opposed to only a recently engaged chamber maid. He couldn't know that between having been raped and the return of Helen from the Great Hall, this young woman had slipped into Helen's quarters to steal the dress. Eric neared her slowly, asking Horvik, "Where did you find this beauty hiding?"

"She wasn't hiding, my king," the Viking told him. "She came looking ... for you."

Eric's lips spread even wider. "Came looking for me...? What's your name, girl?"

"Anna," she said.

"How many seasons of your birth?" he continued as he began a slow walk about her, ogling those curves he could see in the many layers of the fine English cloth. She didn't answer, perhaps not understanding the question. Eric spoke to William, who translated the words for him. Eric asked, "How old are you?"

Again she answered simply, "Eighteen."

Eric continued around her until he was standing directly before her. He lifted her chin until they were looking into one another's eyes. He asked her, "Why did you come looking for me, Anna?"
 
Helen had been under the thumb of her father and then her husband for so long. She could manipulate them most times, but that wasn’t the same as holding power.

Once power fell to her, she embraced her position and ruled wiser than any man. The Viking’s slaughter and rape had spun her in circles, but nothing confused her more than her feelings for Astrid.

Helen understood that Astrid was trying to help and Helen ran to catch up, “Betta, we need to go with her. She can help.”

When Helen reached the two, she placed her hand lightly on Astrid’s shoulder. “We should go to the market first. Somebody may have seen her. If that fails, you can go to your leader and I have … contacts who will aid me.”
 
Lady Helen was surprised when the warrior told Astrid that she couldn’t enter. Anybody that stood between Astrid and her goal would raise her ire and that was not the thing to do.

Helen motioned for Betta to stay back and she stepped slowly between Astrid and the three men that had moved closer to her. She didn’t like the man’s tone and was relieved to see Astrid begin to turn, but backing down didn’t seem to be in her nature.

Lady Helen saw blood flow from the man’s nose and two men moved quickly towards Astrid. Helen grabbed the tunic of one man and he raised his arm, ready to strike Helen, but stopped when he saw Astrid’s foot make a successful strike on the guard.

He loosened his grip and Helen dashed to one of the men that had thrown Astrid to the ground. He swatted her like a fly and she lost her balance, almost ending up where Astrid had landed. She didn’t hit the ground and ended up standing next to Astrid.

She was about to reach for her dagger when Astrid spat on the ground.

Lady Helen began to laugh at Astrid’s retort and then stopped, not wanting to add fuel to the flame and she was relieved when Astrid’s astuteness led them from the battlefield.

As they reached the market she turned to Astrid. She rubbed her own cheek and with a grin said, “You really do hit like a girl.”

“Now, show me your hand,” and Lady Helen took her hand before Astrid even moved it.

“Astrid. Look, it’s already starting to color and puff. You have to find another way of controlling your aggression.”

With the tips of her fingers, Lady Helen touched Astrid’s knuckles with a feather light touch. “Does it hurt?”

“We have to go by the river and dip your hand in it. The cold will stop the puffing and I know of roots and herbs that will dull the pain.”

The Lady’s fingers traced gently down the tops of Astrid’s fingers. “I don’t feel any breaks. Promise me that you won’t strike anything that’s hard as a rock, especially when your foot seems to work so well.”

When her fingers reached Astrid’s fingernails, she traced back up her fingers. “I just want to make sure I didn’t miss anything,” she lied.

The tips of her fingers stopped at Astrid’s knuckles and she slid her hand into Astrid's palm.

“Until we get to the river, I hope this will make it better.” She raised Astrid’s hand and tilted her head down, stopping when her lips caressed the part of your hand that had turned blue.
 
"I have come to serve you, in what ever way you find ... enjoyable ... my lord."

Eric's smile widened yet again at Anna's declaration. He was used to females offering themselves up to him back in Hurstvik, and it didn't honestly surprise Eric to have one -- and likely more -- offering themselves up here and now either. There had been many Englishmen killed tonight: more than thirty bodies had been drug out beyond the gate and stacked like cord word for their loved ones to deal with after sunrise; and the wives and daughters of these men would be seeking favor with a Viking who might protect them from his counterparts by becoming his wife or, at the least, his play thing.

But this woman, in her beautiful, expensive dress, was obviously a noble woman, and from what Eric knew of English nobles -- take the example of Helen, for one -- was that they had a streak of pride that ran longer than the keel of a long boat.

There was a ruckus beyond the doors of the Great Hall that was barely obvious yet still worth investigating. Eric dispatched Horvick to check it out, then turned to William and told him to leave the room. He turned back to Anna, waiting until the were alone.

"I will let you serve me then, Anna," Eric told her, reaching up to take an arm and turn her toward the bed. He pulled at the bow in the middle of her back and began loosing the criss-crossed string holding her dress together. He murmured, "I will let you serve me in ways that will certainly be enjoyable to me.



At the entrance to the Great Hall, Horvik opened the door just in time to see -- and most definitely hear -- one of his warriors catch a kicked foot in the groin. The man tightened up, knees bent, and simply fell over to the ground. All about him -- not much to Horvik's surprise -- the other Vikings erupted in laughter and quickly began making jokes about what the kick to the nuts would do to his sex life or ability to produce sons.

"Get her to her quarters!" he hollered at Astrid when she made contact with him. "Get her to her quarters ... before I forget that your king wants her as is and offer her to the clan."

Astrid approached Horvik to ask about the young woman, Anna, who had been taken by her fellow Vikings.

"She wasn't taken!" he said with a laugh. "She offered herself up to Eric. Walked right into the Hall."
 
“Thank you for your help. They entered the market area and strolled towards her residence. Helen stopped and gently took Astrid's left wrist. From the softness of the touch, Astrid knew there was no aggressive intent.

Helen took her other wrist and looked up to her. “I know what the man called Horvik said and I will not allow myself to be shamed. I need my dagger to defend myself, but under the circumstances, I may need it to…to…take my own life.”

“I sense that Horvik is an honorable man and what he said about Anna is true. Anna is a dreamer and spends much of her days imagining the life of a noble instead of helping in the fields. She doesn’t know how Viking men can be.”

Astrid did her best to say - “She is with your king Eric…”

Helen turned to Betta and corrected Astrid, “She meant to say that Anna is with the swine, dog, usurper who will be sent back to his Viking home with some things in his hands and nothing between his legs.”

Betta laughed and Astrid looked totally confused.

“Since we can’t go down to the river, I will get water drawn and you can put your hand in it. Not as good as the river water, but it will help.”

Betta - “I must find Vera.”

When asked for her leave, Helen nodded. “Of course.”

Helen let Astrid’s right wrist go, but held onto her left. She wanted to let her hand slip into Astrids’, but instead raised her arm up until her elbow was locked behind hers. This was a common sight in her world, but wasn’t sure how Vikings interpreted two ladies arm in arm.

Even in this turmoil some merchants were repairing their stands. If they couldn’t sell their goods they would starve.

Helen was happy to see Katryn fixing her herb stand and Helen led Astrid in her direction. “Is Thomas alright and your children?” she asked.

Katryn looked to Astrid with contempt, “Thomas is dead and the children are still scared to death.”

“She is my protector,” Helen said to the vendor. “Pass the word that no harm come to her.”

“Yes, Milady,” she responded.

Lady Helen held out Astrid’s right hand. “Do you have anything to help,” she asked and barely above a whisper, “and something for sleep.”

Katryn gathered herbs and roots, explaining how to prepare them.

“Oh look, Astrid,” and she pointed to a young girl with colorful flowers in three pails. Some had been damaged in the conflict and some looked freshly picked. Helen had no coin, but vendors knew payment would come before closing.

She picked out four flowers. “These are called the White Rose of York. They were adopted as heraldic symbols by the house of York and Lanchester who were rivals. The rivalry ended when Henry Tudor became our King and united the two houses along with two roses to make a new symbol. Together they indicate unity and peace.”*

“I’ve not seen this one before,” Lady Helen said, pointing to an orange flower. “It’s so pretty. What’s its meaning?”

“Sorry, Milady, I do not know.”

“I’ll take two.”

She placed the flowers in Astrid’s hand.

“This is a gift for you and I don’t think your King will have any interest in them.”

They continued walking through the market towards the residence, Helen not knowing that the orange flowers were called ‘Red Dahlias’ and meant betrayal and dishonesty.

A Viking warrior was walking towards them and began to laugh. “Oh, a new lady in town. Beg my forgiveness” and he bowed to Astrid and continued walking and laughing.

“What did he say,” Helen asked her.

Astrid made a growling sound … ‘Nothing.’

A shield maiden was strolling by and turned to see the pair. “Astrid,” she said. “Are you exchanging your sword for flowers? Have you bedded her? Beware, in bed, the petite ones can easily change from a kitten to lioness.”

It appeared as if the Vikings were teasing Astrid and some spoke with a dialect that Helen could not keep up with.

“Did she say the flowers would look nice beside the bed and small cats grow into big ones? Viking humor?” and Helen laughed and smacked Astrid’s back, just as she had seen many Vikings do to each other.

As they entered the residence, Helen changed from relaxed to the ‘Lady’ of the town.

“Astrid,” she said. "I need to find out if the Captain of the Guard survived the battle, as well as Myrddin. If they are alive they need to know that I’m well and that they must co-operate.”
 
When they entered the bed chamber, Helen retrieved a painted jug and held it out for Astrid to put the flowers in.

She returned and held both her hands again. "I know you don't trust me and I would be a fool to think that you did. But I swear," and she made the sign of the cross, "I will never try to hurt you."

Helen looked down and then back up to the gorgeous shield maiden . "If you know that I will be shamed, promise me that you will end my life."

She didn't try to be coy, it came naturally. "I'm tired too. Perhaps you could tie one of my wrists to the bedpost and the other to your good wrist?"
 
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Lady Helen could piece together many of Astrid’s words, but some left her confused. It was easy to tell the look of surprise on her face, but she wasn’t quite sure why, so she tried her best at sign language.

Helen placed her hands together, raised them up and tilted her head until it touched her hands and she closed her eyes. She then pointed towards herself, then to Astrid and then to the bed.

She then went to a large wooden chest and searched from top to bottom, some items being thrown to the floor in a pile. She looked so pleased when she found two silk scarfs.

She held out her arms, showing them to Astrid and walked quickly to the bed. She tied one end of the Celtic Scarf to a bedpost and then indicated the other end would be tied to her wrist.

Helen returned to Astrid and took her good hand and wrapped the scarf around both their wrists, indicating they would be tied together.

Even with Astrid's hand gestures, she wasn’t sure if Astrid meant no clothes in bed, or clothes had to be worn in bed.

Helen gave a look of not understanding and tried to gesture to Astrid. She became frustrated when it was obvious her message wasn’t getting across. She thought of taking her clothes off, but maybe to a Viking this meant some kind of sexual invitation. Helen didn’t get aroused by male parts and didn’t enjoy her husband’s entry into her. In truth, his death was a relief.

She knew of women sharing a bed, but had never experienced that.

Then it hit her, like a candle being lit. The painting… and she pointed to the painting on the wall…[see photo: Lady]

Lady Helen then pointed to herself, to Astrid and then to the bed.
 
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Helen watched as Astrid walked to the door. She was graceful and the floorboards didn’t even creak as she walked over them.

She thought Astrid looked naked without her leather belt, sword and dagger and a new and pleasurable feeling flowed through her body. When Astrid began to loosen the leather thong that held her leather armor in place, Helen’s tummy began to swirl and a warmth rushed up her neck to her cheeks.

As Astrid lifted her leather armor up over her head, Helen’s heartbeat quickened, her nipples began to swell and ‘down there’ became warm and wet. These sensations were new to her and her brow creased in worry.

She made the sign of the cross. The Vikings must have brought a sickness.

“Astrid, something is wrong with me,” and she hurried to her desk and drank a sip of wine from a jeweled goblet.

She took another sip and then another, drinking until the goblet was empty. The basin with water hadn’t been changed in days, but she dipped a cloth in the water and pressed the cloth to her forehead.

“Astrid, its the ‘sweating sickness’. She paced, poured more wine and drank it. “I need the physician. I pray he’s not been killed.”
 
Helen shook her head, "Betta...no."

She picked up a mirror and looked to see if she was covered in red blotches. She was relieved when there were none, and the warmth in her cheeks was fading away.

Helen lowered one eyelid and then the other. The eyes of people with sweating sickness turned yellow and hers looked normal.

She placed the mirror on the table and took several deep breaths. Her heart slowed down to normal and the swirls in her tummy were going away.

"Astrid, I'm feeling better. Maybe I was just tired. But you're tired to. Are you feeling sickly?

Helen walked to Astrid and felt the Viking's forehead.

"You are not warm," Helen said and she placed a hand over Astrid's chest, slightly brushing her breast with the side of her hand. As Helen had seen the physician do, she moved her hand away and pressed her ear to Astrid's chest.

She felt her cheeks warm again, but didn't say anything.

"I think you are fine," Helen said and smiled. "Good. We are both good."

"If My servants were here, they would undress me. May I help you undress?"
 
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