One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Temptationist]

"Sire, the ships... they are in sight." The leading commander spoke in a state of controlled panic after barging into the dinning area accompanied by several guards.

King Cuthred of Kent brought a napkin cloth to his lips before speaking. "You interrupt my supper, Commander." His words were riddled with displeasure.

"Apologies, Sire. The Pagans are approaching at faster speeds than anticipated. I strongly urge you and your family to flee the city immediately." He bowed his head to the throne, awaiting the King's response. "I request permission to gather the soldiers and prepare for battle."

"Denied." The King waved his hand. "Try again after my stomach has been satisfied. Matters can wait until after dinner, Commander."

The Commander's mouth parted slightly. It was evident he wanted to speak but was at a loss for words. Urgent matters required urgent care, and the King was calm, and uninterested. The Commander closed his mouth and bit his tongue. "Yes... Sire..." He slowly turned to retreat with his leading soldiers.

I stood there silently with a tray of appetizers. The lack of urgency in the King was disturbing, but not surprising. The King was selfish, and unworthy. He cared only for the safety of himself, not of his people. In that moment, I had grown tired of relentless silence. Something overcame me, and I spoke. "How much time, Commander?" I asked the gentleman just as he was about to part the room. "How many days?"

The Queen's mouth drops at the sound of a slave's voice. The King, with equal shock, rises from his seat and slams his fists on the table. "You speak without permissio-"

"Five hours, at most." The Commander, once more, interrupted the King. The attention shifted from my disobedience to the response of the Commander.

The King's eyes widened. "Five hours!?" His concern rose, and there was a tremble in his voice. Perhaps he assumed there would be days before their arrival. Now this was indeed an emergency. The room fell to an eerie silence. The Queen looked to her husband in a state of panic; fear filled her eyes. The King's once clenched fists loosened, and he regained a straight, proud posture. "Commander," He addressed, "Gather the soldiers immediately." He turned to look at me, "Servant, gather the rest of the slaves, the horses and the carriages. Pack as quickly and urgently as possible. Pack the valuables. Silvers, memorables... all which can survive the travel." He gazed over his royal table. "That's an order!"

I looked down in a state of disappointment, and placed the silver tray on the table and trotted towards the door. Before I could exit the dinning area, I turned around to lock eyes with the King. "Daralis." He looked confused. "My name... is Daralis." I parted before the King could say anything further.


The Commander returned, bursting through the doors of the castle once more. "They're arriving! Sire, King Cuthred!" He shouted - his screams echoing throughout the castle. The King came running out of his bedroom. He grasped the railing to the big stairwell and stared down at the Commander and his men. The Commander continued, "Their ships have pulled up to the shores." He huffed, "They're here. You must leave... Their numbers... I fear are too great."

Acting with the utmost urgency, the King cried out to his royal family members. "Quickly, now! Into the carriages! Take everything you need and leave the rest! QUICKLY, NOW!"

The servants and family were all in a state of panic, running around like chickens without heads to gather the remainder of their valuables. I rushed into the room of the children - young princes and princesses to be. "It's time!" I called to them. "Quickly, now. I will take you to the castle." The youngest child, a 5 year old boy named Godric, ran up to me. I grabbed him in my arms. "Princess Godiva, hurry. Grab your luggage. Leave the dolls, there is no time." She pouted at me, but I reassured her. "I will make you a new doll!" I gave her a big warm smile, still holding her brother, Godric, to my left hip. "I promise." She smiled, took the handle on her luggage in her small hands, and left the room with me. The two other children followed closely behind. I lead them through the back door and out of the castle, where a carriage awaited them.

There was a screaming that echoed throughout the city. The Vikings were here. Their battle chant could be heard from miles away. My heart began to race. Would we escape in time? We had to leave now. "Into the carriages! Hurry, hurry!" I loaded them all in the carriages, and threw whatever luggages were packed into the back of the trolley. The Queen was closely behind me. She, too, jumped onto the carriage and caressed her children. "Chauffeur!" I called out to him. He looked towards me, and I nodded to him. The horses huffed and off the carriage went. The young boy held his hand out to me and cried for me. Breaking out into a slight trot, I ran after the carriage to reassure him. "I will be with you, soon, Godric!" The bond I had with the boy could never be broken.

I watched momentarily as the carriage rode further and further from the castle. The King and several other important individuals such as the Bishop, came out from the door behind me, shortly after. There was a second carriage ready for them. As they jumped on that carriage with their own belongings, I looked around and noticed there was no other buggy other than this one. "Where is the third carriage?" I asked King Cuthred. He stared at me and shut the door to his chariot in my face. "The third carriage!" I demanded an answer. "For the other servants and I!"

He did not even make eye contact with me. "There is no third carriage..." The King finally responded, before nodding to the chauffeur. The horses took off, as so did the buggy, whilst I was still clutching onto the window of the carriage door.

I refused to accept that answer. "You promised me a carriage!" I shouted as I mounted the edge of the carrier, holding my body onto the side of it as it rolled away from the castle.

The King did not even shed a single shred of remorse, or compassion. "I order you to let go of my chariot, immediately!!!" He tried to shoo me off the side, but I held on for dear life.

In a desperate plea, I began to tear up and shout, "I am your niece! The blood of King Coenwulf! I am family!"

The King recanted, "You are a slave!" He forced open the door of the carriage as it was in motion, throwing me to the side of the road.

I flung off the door and slammed onto the muddy ground below. My body rolled across the gravel like a rag doll, my once pampered dress now covered in mud and regret. "Cuthred!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, tears streaming down my dirt-tainted cheeks. "You promised!" I wailed, loud enough for him to hear me, even a mile away. My body shut down as I fell back to the mud and began to sob. "You... promised..." I quietly squealed to myself. My squeal turned to a faint whisper, "I promise, Godric..."

In that moment, I had never felt so betrayed, so broken, and so alone.

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]



The ships crept out of the mist from the east, the high prows breaking through the mist before the wide, low hulls appeared. Oars dipped into the dark, foreboding sea pushing the boats forward. The small fleet, 23 strong, each ship holding men and women along with supplies as the excitement rose while the oars dipped and rose bringing the raiders to shore. Rollo stood in the prow of his ship, naked from the waist up, the tattoos dark on rippling muscles as his arms tightened on the haft of his large axe, a hand around the neck of the serpent attached to the prow. Ragnar hung in the rear of the center ship, eyes darting about as they planned and thought, the beach and the lands of Kent came into view. Floki's lean, dark form hung off the head of the dragon, limbs swaying the body fore and back his high pitched laugh echoing in excitement off the waves as they neared the beach.

Rollo grabbed his long handled axe and leaped from the bow of the boat to the beach, sauntering past the tide line to the long grass along the small beach's edge. Bjorn came behind, an appraising eye from his nephew with sword, shield and armored. The freshly shaven sides of his head bristled in the faded mist of the morning. "No armor today uncle?" Bjorn asked, a titter from Floki behind who leaped to join them.

Rollo turned then looked at the green fields that stretched before them responding reverently, "I'm armored by the gods." Pounding his chest with a closed fist while the men gathered about, the boats pulled up onto the sand, the dull scratching of wood on sand surrounded them for a moment.

"Well, let's hope the gods keep you that way," Bjorn joked recalling the archers they had faced in Wessex and Mercia. Laughter scattered among the men that formed a line on either side of Rollo as Ragnar, Rollo's younger brother and King of the Vikings, walked through them and led the way with a wry smile.

"If they don't then I will curse you with my dying breath, and welcome you to Valhalla with the next," Rollo replied in mock seriousness as the raiders strode off the beach swords and shields at the ready. The men around laughing as Bjorn rolled his eyes and followed with a fading blush on his cheeks.

On the rise ahead of them a small village was still a rush of activity as they stalked across the field, the shouts of the villagers echoed in the silence of the morning, shapes ran over the rise, scattering in all directions. Nearing the thatched huts only a few men stayed in the middle of the village, a small hunting bow aimed at them. The small fletched arrow sunk into Bjorn's shield in front of Rollo. Bjorn looked at the quivering arrow and raised an eye brow, Rollo laughed and ran forward bringing the axe down on the man with the bow. Leaving one man alive Ragnar questioned the man on the ground next to the dead villagers.

The raiders went through the huts, the villagers gone, only a stray dog left to scare the raiders away. The dog's incessant barking was silenced with a loud whine, as the meager possessions of the huts were pulled out. Valuable metal was placed in the center of the huts as spoil while the ships were emptied and the supplies stored in the village. Rollo listened as Ragnar talked to the old man, the old man whined and pleaded as piss soaked his pants, Ragnar's threats with a dagger and Rollo's bloodied axe persuaded the man to tell them about the castle nearby. Rollo listened intently, learning some of the Angles language by listening to Athelstan and Ragnar in the past he had kept his knowledge of the language to himself.

"Brother," Ragnar came up and clapped Rollo on the shoulder, "I think you should lead the next raid." The intent blue eyes looked up at him, the easy smile that came to Ragnar's face, as most things came easily to Ragnar. Rollo simply shrugged and with a wave to the men they walked on, the mass following him across the rolling green fields.

The road was not that far from the village, the old man had told Ragnar that a castle was nearby. That much he understood. If there were spoils they would be there, Rollo knew it and while Ragnar had just gestured away from the village Rollo made up his own mind. Turning up the road, the men followed expecting something, anything, it did not matter since there was bound to be something in the land. Ragnar wanted the land, the obsession with farming had brought them here once before, Rollo had not minded since they left fairly wealthy, but since the death of Siggy home felt hollow. Empty. He wanted something, anything, that he did not have to share with Ragnar.

The soldiers waited near the castle, that made Rollo pause as the men lined up beside him. Bjorn on his right as his shield, Rollo's hands gripped the stout handle of the axe tight, the muscles of his arms tightening as they formed the shield wall and walked towards the soldiers, the line a pitiful resistance to the hundreds of raiders covering the field. The raiders were a dark line that spread, like a great scythe ready to slice the castle from its foundations. The soldiers wore links of chain and carried sword and shield, one was mounted who stayed behind the line that advanced towards them, feet stomping across the ground a slow swell that built to a thunderous roar. Rollo felt the tension build as they slowly closed, the smell of sweat from the nervous men at his side assaulted his nostrils, the castle loomed behind the soldiers. Raiders and soldiers stepped cautiously forward on the plain, the road a wide dark curve in the green fields about them, the soldiers stopped but the raiders kept moving faster and faster.

In a few heartbeats they were together, the clash of arms rose and fell as the wave of raiders fell upon the soldiers. Men cursed and cried out as the soldiers tried to hold them back, the raiders were all men eager for plunder and blood. The soldiers, mostly older men, perhaps seasoned but a few who had never been in a shield wall who cowered and were the first to fall. The smell of piss and fear surrounded Rollo as he leaped through the line, axe swinging behind and above his head to come down and land on the head of a soldier as he touched the ground. The dull sound of blade on helmet came before the splatter of blood, the warm touch of it on Rollo's skin sent his heart racing. Giving a deafening yell, lost amid a dozen others, he jabbed and swung the axe at the men around him, nervous swords shaking and shields raised in fear as the soldiers stepped back then fell at the innumerable raiders that crowded around.

"Come on," Rollo yelled as the soldiers fell back or down, blood soaking into the ground at their feet.

The horseman rode at them, sword pointed down to run them through. Rollo stood before the horse, facing this once before he had learned. As the horse came he ducked to the other side and brought up the axe, the horse's momentum brought it into the axe blade and as the shrill whinny came the axe had bit through the chest and almost to the leg of the rider before the horse fell. The rider grunted as the horse fell trapping the soldier's leg beneath, before the horse could rise Rollo stepped over and brought the axe down into the man's chest. Armor and bone separating before the heavy blade.

Turning towards the castle Rollo noted the silence as they were under the walls, the doors closed, but nothing sounded within. Eyes went from the high walls, to the towers at the corners, no one seemed to be in sight. "What do you think Bjorn?" Turning a cool eye towards his nephew, hefting the axe onto his shoulder the blood dripping down the haft, darkening the wood. "Should we knock and see if anyone is home?"

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]


As I lay lifeless in a puddle of filth, another female servant came running out onto the road. “Daralis!” One called out to me – her voice breaking as she ran towards me.

I was not dead, but I sure felt empty inside. Snapping out of my haze, I dug my hands into the mud; gripping on to whatever foundation was left in my life. As my head rose from the dirt, my eyes were cold – my heart had turned to stone. I was determined – I would have my revenge. I rose from the ground, as did Jesus Christ – I was reborn.

“Daralis!” She called out again, sliding to my side. Gently grasping onto my arm, she helped pull me up and off the floor. The servant, Emma, attempted to speak but was at a loss for words. Only sounds of groans could escape her lips. Tears filled her eyes. At that moment she realized, there was no hope. She stuttered. “Wha-” She hesitated. “What are we going to do?” The tremble in her voice made her words nearly impossible to understand.

Without shedding a single tear, nor even turning to look her in the eyes, I stood to my two feet and looked over the horizon. “Survive.” There was a moment of silence, before I finally turned to look her in the eyes. “You will survive.” Before she could speak another word, I began to walk back towards the back entrance of the castle. Emma stood there by the puddle of mud, staring at me without speaking. Something had changed in me, and she, too, could see it.

I disappeared back into the castle, where the other servants awaited instruction on what to do. I was young, but despite my age, I was the leader in the household. I was born to rule. It was in my blood, and I would not allow a coward to define me. As I entered the castle, a crowd of abandoned servants pooled together and watched me in silence. My gaze fell upon them, and I muttered. “Gather your things to the back door.” Despite their confusion, several of them nodded. Turning away from them, I headed slowly up the stairs – my body aching from the fall. I set the pain aside, and continued to my dorm. Slowly, I walked over to my luggage and opened it up. I spent several minutes in my room alone, staring at the one piece of jewelry I had ever owned. It was a bracelet made of gold, silver, and jewels. No one was aware that it even existed, let alone in my possession.

There was a light knock on the door before it crept open. “Daralis?” Emma's soft voice exclaimed. She fell silent as her eyes fell upon the lavish piece of jewelry.

“My father gave it me when I was a child. Before he sent me to live here...” My head bounced, revealing a light nod to represent my disappointment. “He wanted a better life for me. Not the life of a slave.” I rose from my luggage, bracelet in hand. I stretched out my hand to Emma. Confused, she held out her hand. I placed the bracelet in her hand. “This is yours now. All of yours. Use it to pay for a ride out of the city. Save yourselves.” Emma's mouth dropped, but before she could detest my wishes, I interrupted her. “Not another word!” Shaking my head from side to side. “I was born to King Coenwulf-”

“But you will die!” Emma burst out. She was right. If I chose to stay, death would surely follow.

“Enough!” I cried back to her. “I am not Cuthred's servant. I will not die at his hands. At the hands of a monster. I will not die a slave...” My eyes began to tear, and my voice began to tremble. “I... will not...”
Emma's eyes softened as she grasped the bracelet. “You will die a savior.” She threw her arms around me and held me in a deep embrace.

The cries of Vikings victory echoed the city. I threw my head to the side to gaze out of the window. “There is no time! Go! Take the others and go, NOW!” I pushed her away from me.

Emma turned to run for the door, before leaving, she turned to me and smiled. “My first born daughter... I will name her Daralis.” Without another word, she disappeared into the hallways to meet the others at the back entrance.

Within moments, the castle was completely vacated. It fell more silent than the dead of night. The castle was nothing but a set of hollow rooms; a maze of stone walls.

I watched out the window as the raiders merged onto the beach and into our village. “I will not die a slave.” I whispered to myself. My body shifted as I exited my bedroom. Entering a common bathroom, I stripped myself of my mud-ridden clothing, and dipped my body in a bath. The once steaming hot tub of water had now cooled to a luke-warm; a bath that had once been made ready for Godric and Godiva after their dinner, was now abandoned and unused. I sunk into the tub, completely submerging myself underwater. For a moment, I contemplated drowning myself. Something compelled me not to. God, perhaps? I pulled my head out from the water, taking a deep breath after nearly turning blue. I scrubbed the remainder dirt off of my body before emerging from the pool of water.

I could hear the chants of the Pagans and the cries of my people becoming louder and louder. Completely nude, I walked across the hallway and into my dormitory. Out of all of the dresses I owned, I chose to wear the purest of them all - my simple white bustier gown. A white more pure than ivory. I went over to a mirror that decorated an entire wall. I gazed at it, looking at my semi-dry hair that lay in length just below my bust. It did not satisfy me. Taking several moments to lavish my hair, I braided it intricately and entwined several pearl-like stones. If I had to die, I would die feeling like royalty; feeling beautiful, and pure.

The battle groans were louder now than ever. The savages were here - just at the cusp of the castle. The ground trembled with their attacks. It was time.

Abandoning the mirror, I greeted the window. Grazing the window's sill with my fingers, I looked down at the men that terrorized the city. Most men were armored, but one man... One Pagan was free of armor, nearly naked. Only the blood of his enemies and the markings on his skin clothed his muscular figure. I watched this man intently. He was truly more beast than man. He was a monster in the eyes of Christ. A true product of the devil.

My life, now, was at the mercy of a Pagan; a demon. My last saving grace was God, to believe in the power of Jesus Christ, and in the holy grace of the Virgin Mary. As the heavy iron doors of the castle are breached, I looked towards the sky out the window and prayed the only way I knew how - through my voice.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and in the hour of our death. Amen."​

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]



As the raiders crowded before the gates, pushing and chopping at the edges Rollo turned to two young men at the back of the group. "You two, run back and tell Ragnar we have taken the castle."

One of the young men, barely old enough to have grown a beard looked downcast, a voice griped "but we'll miss the plunder."

Gesturing with the axe between the boys legs Rollo stood close, looking down with mad eyes and a growl in his voice, "you'll miss more than that!" Fear ran across the man's face as his eyes widened, "if you hurry you won't miss it all. Now go!" Shouting the last order the two men took off running down the road.

Turning to the gate it was moving back and forth as the men pushed, the bar inside was sturdy and resisted the raiders as they heaved. Rollo added his own muscles to the line of men who pushed forward, a wave of motion that ran back and forth to the gate. The bar held and he looked at the walls warily, expecting something from the tops, but no men showed. Judging the height it was not a high wall, they had no ladders to reach the top though it was not that high. Getting a few men by the corner of the gate where the wall was low had them get on each others shoulders, they were able to reach most of the way up.

Walking back Rollo judged the men and the height, Bjorn stood beside the men, a look of hesitation on his face as he eyed Rollo sensing the intention. "Are you sure?"

"Why not? No worse than running uphill," holding the axe tight sprinted to the wall, a foot on the back of each man who suddenly saw Rollo heading towards him and they stiffened. The first footfall was met with a groan as Rollo's momentum brought him up to the next man. Another foot and he began to feel his weight drag him back, pushing upwards the men shivered but held under him. The last man shouted in preparation as Rollo placed his foot square on the man's back, the empty arm reached up and fingertips clasped the edge of the stone. The arm tensed and with his own shout and prayer to Odin he was up and sitting on the edge of the wall, looking down at the men below a trail of footprints on the men who dropped to the ground below.

A cheer went up as he grinned widely, the men stopped their heaving at the gate, raising his arms the axe free in his hand Rollo spun on his ass and turned to face the empty wall. Warily he heaved himself off the edge, stepping down to the walkway looking for an enemy. It was quiet, except for a sound that came from far away, he could not tell what it was. Coming from deep within the castle it continued, rhythmic in a way, like a prayer almost. Moving to the gatehouse and down to the inner gate swung the axe up twice, the bar loosened and he slid it aside with the muscles in his shoulders tightening and straining with the effort.

The gates parted and the raiders entered with a cheer, the men shouting Rollo's name as they entered. Bjorn gave him an impressed smile, "come on Bjorn, let's see what they left us."

Men ran throughout the halls, the sounds of plunder filling empty halls. The clatter of plates and dishes, cracking wood of locked doors and chests sounded as the cheers and shouts of the men echoed. It was not a big place, Rollo was amazed at how the people liked to build these big stone houses, then when the raiders came ran away. It seemed a waste of effort. The men were enjoying themselves in a hall, finding a cask of ale they were handing out cups to those who came by, three came up and handed Rollo a big cup that he drained with a smile then took another and wandered through the halls. Hearing again that sound as he neared a set of stairs that curled upwards.

Axe on his shoulder he climbed up, the sound increasing. It was a song he realized, coming from somewhere above. Simple, and slightly haunting, but the voice was pleasant. Calming. Feeling at ease, of it may be the ale, Rollo wandered down towards a closed door, as he opened it he stood quietly bloodied axe on one hand and ale in the other. In the room before the window a vision from the gods greeted him, the woman was young, a wide, round face and dressed all in white. For a moment, as she turned, Rollo thought he had died and it was one of the valkyrie come to take him to Valhalla. A quick look down saw the blood of his enemies but nothing of his own.

She was breathtaking, as the eyes turned towards him he saw the lips parted. The song that had lured him came from her, the wide lips parted slightly as she looked up at him. Eyes bright and defiant. The simple white gown revealed a generous busom, the long braid of hair was snaked with pearls. For a moment he was not sure what was more precious, her of the pearls. Then Rollo realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled deeply. Taking a sip of the ale as he looked at her, a wry smile changing to one of amusement. From behind two raiders came up the stairs and seeing the woman they began to move around Rollo, large as he was the door still had space. Raising his arms to block them he said simple, harshly, "mine."

The two men slunk away as he walked into the room. Softly closing the door behind him, placing the cup on a table, leaning the axe next to it. "Are you all alone here?" He asked in Norse as her song still echoed in the room, the look in her eyes told him she did not understand, smiled as he walked closer seeing how small and unafraid she was. A true beauty, he had not seen anyone as desirable as Lagertha when they were younger. Siggy still remained in his heart and he loved her still, the feelings that rose for this songstress were something deeper. Trying to seem as unmenacing as he could half naked and half covered in blood walked up to her.

Switching to the unfamiliar English he held out his hands empty to show he meant no harm. "Hello."

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]

There was nothing left to do now than to await my impeding doom. I had always heard that death could be sensed; it could felt within you prior to your disposal. But I... I did not feel death. I didn't feel it's dark, creeping presence in my path. I felt nothing. I felt numb. A sort of internal numbness that turns a concept as deep as death, into something minute, even trivial. As I looked out the window to a crumbling city, I could feel nothing but heartbreak. King Coenwulf was a ruler, a true leader. And now his empire - a chunk of Anglo-Saxon culture instantly destroyed in a matter of minutes. And all it took was one mass of savage men to disintegrate and entire Kentish army.

The whole event was embarrassing. King Cuthred and his failed attempts to rule were pathetic, at best. His complete lack of leadership ability of even a care for the city he grasped brought me great sadness, and even more anger. It brought me shame. I was ashamed to be his kin, even if under unfavourable circumstances. Despite my mother's identity as a servant, my father, a noble man and great emperor, was a kind soul. He loved unconditionally, regardless of status nor wealth. The unfortune of a powerful hierarchy plagued his ability to give my mother and I the life he truly wanted. Had he been able to marry my mother, he would have. I believe it as much as she did; that the two shared a deep bond with one another, regardless of her poor identity.

He never wanted this life for me. It was a concept I repeated to myself over and over again. He entrusted my existence to the hands of his brother; whom he adored and trusted deeply. Little did he know, his precious brother, and my uncle, was a cruel man. He was a demon in all forms - he abused not only a impure blood cripple like myself, but also his on blood; his own children. He hated his wife, and indulged in the company of hundreds of mistresses. God forbid they became carriers of his child - he would kill them, slaughter them and their children. Something he wished Coenwulf had done with my mother and I. He told me so repeatedly.

Somehow in my mother of closing death, his cowardice is the only thing that corrupted my thoughts. The hatred I bore for him was a sin in itself. But was it really a sin to curse the devil in disguise?

My gaze never quit the man in blood. Something about his definitive determination presented a depth of bravery I had never witnessed before. This man was invincible. Perhaps being fearless made him less of a man and more of a beast. Fear: the fine line between man and beast. As I watched this man climb the backs of his men to breach the castle wall, I began to wonder if really the lack of fear made him more of a man, not less so.

It only took moments for the Pagan to find me in the castle. Seconds after I sung my last word, "Amen," - the door opened, and just by the presence of the being, I could tell it was the same Pagan that lead the breach of the castle. Still looking out the window, I was too shy - or maybe I was afraid - to turn and look him in the eyes. I looked down, slowly peaking over my shoulder to intermittently lock eyes with the beast. I was surprised, surprised at what I saw. Not that the image of his bloody body were any different than outside, but that there was a kindness in his eyes - a soft gaze that was not threatening, but comforting, and passionate.

Speaking words I could not understand, I did not respond with words, but more merely with my eyes and posture. Not breaking the eye contact I had just established, my body calmly shifted away from the window. The caution I took soon dissipated as the words changed from foreign, to recognizable. My eyes widened slightly. Despite a thick accent, the words were understandable. "You know my language..." The response was less of a question, and more of a statement of surprise. I let a second of silence fall before a wave of hope washed over me at the sight of you pushing back the two men.

"The Christians say that you are more beast than man... But I've come to wonder, in seeing you grip the back of your men to breach these castle walls... That perhaps the lack of fear in your eyes makes you less of a monster, and even more of a man."

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]

Rollo couldn't help but be taken by surprise in her beauty and demeanor. She had to know what would happen to anyone the raiders found in the castle. Yet she stood here, though shyly casting her eyes down, there was a determination in her that would not have been defeated if he had taken her here and now. Her body would yield under him, but not her spirit. Something about that caused a flash of memory to pass before his eyes. The determination to not lose, to rise out of the depths and come back and reclaim power and position. Siggy had wanted that, wanted it for him, at the time Rollo could barely see outside of his own despair and blindly followed Ragnar and his dreams.

Rollo had dreams once, younger and more thirsty for raiding he had learned to revel in the pleasures of it. A soul unbound, taking what you could without restraint. It was a freedom of the soul that allowed him to feel alive when the rest of him had gone numb. Siggy had brought life back to him, only her death had brought back the melancholy that had taken over part of his life. Now, this woman of light brought a smile to his face. Flush with battle and desire for plunder, or for a woman, she stood before him a bearing of something in her that made him pause. The set of her shoulders, the head, it all made him think she was more than just another servant. She made him pause, and he did not know why, the gods were mysterious. The prophecy came back to him at that moment, "dancing naked on the beach" the seer had said.

Rollo smiled and walked easily up to her, the sounds of pillage outside continued. "I don't speak it often, but I learned from a monk," the words came hard at first then flowed smoother as he talked. "One of your christian monks, he taught my brother and me." A smile crept on his face, "taught it to us monsters."

Looking down at her, the deep eyes caught him. Reminded him of Siggy, the voice though, the singing was like the gods and he yearned to hear it again. A chuckle ran through him as he could not help but smile at her, "you do not fear me. Who are you? Do you rule here?"

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]

I wasn't stupid. I'd heard the stories. All of the tales about Vikings were gory, dramatic, and unsettling. Described as the most savage of beasts - these men were notorious for violence. And that violence did not fall short of women. Men were killed, and woman were raped. That was the moral of every old folk tale of these infamous savages. They took what they wanted - and it was also gold and sex. I was no fool. I knew that if I came to face one, my lithe figure and bright green eyes would not spare me from ravaging. Yet here I stood, in front of one of the most savage beasts of them all - and I was standing... not laying beneath him.

As you took a step forward towards me, my heart skipped a beat (and certainly not in the romantic way). My stomach inflated into my throat like a bloated fish and I could barely breathe. This was it. The more you approached, the harder it would be to fight you if you were to put your hands on me. I stood no chance. Absolutely none. But something surprised me. Your steps, they came to a stop. Your demeanor was not vicious, or aggressive. Your movements were slow, and your eyes soft. My big olive-colored eyes peered into yours as you stood tall over my small figure. Nothing. Not even the lift of a finger.

There was a sense of surprise that could be seen in my eyes, but even more so a sense of caution. But I found myself becoming lost in your eyes. The eyes I once feared to look upon, now became the most comforting of gazes. A small smile pulled at my cheeks as you embraced the label I had given to your people. Still gazing up, my lips parted and I answered confidently, "No." Almost swooning over your accented words, I continued, "I fear no one." That wasn't as much of a lie as it sounded, as I feared many things but it was never usually a person.

"I do not rule." I paused; my eyes drifting downward with my words as I turn around to face the window once more. "But I should." Peeking over my shoulder, I gave a smug witty smile. "My name..." I started, pausing for a brief moment as I turned back around to face you. "... is Daralis." Thinking quickly, I was unsatisfied with its blandness and decided to fancy my title. "Daralis of Kent, and daughter to the ruler of Mercia: King Coenwulf." Although I made my status appear higher than it was without context, I was not lying.

"And you... monster?" I took several steps forward; truly cemented my stance directly in front of you. There was a cheeky twinkle in my eyes as I grinned and joked. My body lay just inches before you. "What is your name?"

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]

"Monster? Aye," he growled in good humor as he stepped closer. Rollo turned his head down to look at her to test that name on his lips. "Daralis," the name sounded good, he rolled it around on his tongue again. Looking down into those amused eyes, the title filling his ears and forgotten. These people so loved their titles and relations that it was almost amusing. Though when Rollo heard the name of King Coenwulf that gave him a momentary pause, hiding it away for the moment to consider later.

A slight discomfort slipped through him as he noticed the smell of blood, noticing through the sides of his eyes that he was covered in the blood of his enemies, it always itched as it dried. Next to her he did look the monster, large and savage and covered in blood. As the rush and exultation of taking the castle began to fade he felt the calm afterwards, saying a quick prayer to Odin as he stood closer to the woman dressed in white. Raising a hand up, tilted that face to look up at him. Locking her eyes and face with his own saw a strength behind those eyes, behind the bearing that he had missed in a woman. "Fearing no one is good, fearing death is better."

With a motion as quick as a snake his mouth was down to hers. His lips locked over her own, touching them softly at first then with more passion as he held the face up to him. Fingers on her jaw, light but firm, as his own desires rose as he could smell her. Fresh like a field, unspoiled, the white like a sail waiting for its sigil. Soft skin rested against him, a slight shiver passing through her body as he touched only her lips, feeling everything in that kiss. Daralis was a beauty and a voice that he could truly treasure.

Pulling back, a toothy smile showing in the beard, "you kiss well for the daughter of a king." She was there before him, ready to ravage. He could take her, despoil her, rip the pearls from her hair. A hand reaching up to stroke the woven hair and beads that gleamed within. The thought entertained him for a moment, "I am Rollo," he answered her as he enveloped her with his arms for another, longer kiss.

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]

I listened to your words closely, and carefully. Your voice was heavily accented, yet you spoke well - better than I could have ever imagined. At best, I would have expected a word or two, but not full sentences. This was all beginning to feel like a dream. For one, I wasn't dead. I was very much alive, in fact I felt more alive than I ever had before. I had envisioned blood everywhere; my own blood. Yet here I stood, in one piece with all my limbs, and the only blood I could smell was the blood of enemies on your chest. Which was, by the very second, becoming more and more endearing.

"If I feared death, I would not be standing here before you, now, would I?" A soft smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. My bright olive-colored eyes beamed as I looked at you. Never had I been so attracted to a male - but I was smitten. I was surprised by every word you spoke, and every little movement you made. I found myself lost in your eyes as you leaned forward, and your hand softly brought my chin closer to you. For the first time since my birth, I felt free.

Without hesitation, I allowed your mouth to press against my own; completely embracing the kiss I had barely expected, but immensely desired. I sunk into your lips like my own were melting. When the kiss ended, and our mouths parted, a smile emerged. I was smitten.

"You kiss well... for a monster." I joked, as I was trying to be charming. I felt myself drawn to you again, and didn't think twice about kissing you again. This time, though, our embrace was interrupted by a loud scream.

"Rollo!" Someone was calling. "Where are you hidingggggggg?" The words were nearly slurred, but I understood none of it as it was not English. It became evident that there was some sort of party or celebration on the floors bellow. I could already smell the ale, mixed with the stench of sweat. Someone was stumbling to the room.

Pulling back slightly and looking down, my dream was coming to an end. I was suddenly realizing that even if one Viking let me live, what is the rest did not. "They are calling for you, Rollo." I said softly, with a hint of disappointment in my voice. I trailed my hand down your muddy arm, only to join my palm with yours. Looking to you for answers, I whispered, "What should I do?"

RE: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama]

The voices came closer again, the men who found the kitchen were handing out the ale. Licking his lips Rollo thought about missing his share, though Daralis was far superior to any ale that he might enjoy. Looking down at her wondered what to do, take her now, take her from here, hide her? The question haunted him for a moment until he heard Floki's voice. Then the doors boomed open, Floki with a full cup held with two fingers stood there unsteadily. Gestures always exaggerated the boat builder was a good fighter, but his obsession with the gods could border on the annoying.

"Rollo!" Floki's eyes settled on Daralis, her small form almost hidden behind Rollo, hands joined behind his back. Rollo felt the hand tighten on his as Floki almost stumbled in the room, his usual gangly self a bit unsteady with ale. The dark rimmed eyes gave him a look halfway between drunk and mad idiot. "I had a cup for you," then a giggle as Floki looked at his empty hand, "but I must have drank it. I came to congratulate you, that climb up the wall, most impressive." Speaking as he entered the room, the snake-like body curled around his, dark eyes settling on Daralis. " What kind of treasure did you find, hm?"

Normally Floki was tolerable, but flush with victory and drunk he could be insufferable. Reaching out to take a lock of Daralis' hair the giggle echoing in the small room, Rollo cleared his throat. "Floki," pushing away Floki's arm, "my axe is just over there," the warning was unmistakable.

Floki pulled his arm back as if from a fire, head tilting in acquiescence as he swept his arms out in a mock bow, stepping back a little. "Alright Rollo, alright, if you want her, she's yours." Drinking some more from his cup Floki turned the lean body on his heel, with the grace of the newly drunk, and wandered out to the hall turning at the door, "when you are ready," the hint unmistakable as Floki laughed in his odd way, "we'll be feasting in the hall when Ragnar gets here."

Daralis' fingers had been tight, small fingers gripping into the flesh of his calloused hand, a strong grip for a woman of her size. Perhaps not the princess she seemed, but he didn't care. Keeping a hold on her hand, fingers entwined with his possessively, grinned at Floki and walking over retrieved the axe.

The blood had dried, along with the muck of battle that chafed his skin as he breathed, stepping from the room with axe and Daralis saw that the others had already gleaned through the rooms. Like crows pecking the dead what was of worth was stripped, what was not broken, knocked over. Seeing the bath Rollo walked towards it wanting a moment to think. The tub was too heavy or not worth anything so had been left alone. Leaning the axe against the wall Rollo took a cloth and began to wash the blood and muck from his arms, a sigh escaping him.

Looking at his princess, a vision in her white dress, the jewels in her hair. It put a smile on his face, "seems I found the best treasure of the raid." Reaching down he pulled those sweet lips back towards him, her wide, lush mouth pressed against him. She smelled clean, tasted clean, and as he recalled her voice it was like kissing one of the gods. Beautiful and indescribable at the same time.

Dipping the cloth in the water pulled it up to his shoulder, the water running through the blood and muck in thin rivulets that charted the muscular course of his chest. "Stay near me, speak to no one, look at no one," he warned her, "not even Ragnar." If he claimed Daralis as his woman they'd stay clear. A few would look, but knocking a head or two would resolve that and she would be left alone. What he did not want was her letting lose his secret of knowing her language.

He wanted her, but taking her now would just invite others to try and take a turn after, the few who wandered up towards them wandered away with a look and a growl. While the heat of victory was on them all she was in danger until the celebration had ended, and with the raucous singing below the feasting had begun. The rise of voices told him Ragnar came, if his brother's eye came on Daralis he'd lose her. Just like everything else. Much as he loved his brother he was jealous of what Ragnar had obtained, and took away from him. Lagertha, whom they had both loved, and then Siggy died for his sons. Rollo, absentmindedly washed himself thinking of Siggy for a moment, the old pain ached for a moment, he couldn't begrudge Ragnar his sons, but he did miss Siggy.

Lost in though Rollo turned to see her staring at him, the eyes soft and dark, Daralis. "So my Princess," grinning at her, "would you be willing to sing for the monsters later? That would calm them, then you would only have one to worry about." A low growl echoed humorously in his throat.

This creature moved so strangely. He was human, surely, one of the Norse men but he did not move like a man. He moved like a serpent. My eyes widened lightly as he slithered his thinner form into the room and began to speak to you. Shifting my gaze to you, it was evident I was concerned. I didn't know what to do; nor if this male could cause me any harm. I didn't know what the hierarchy in the system was - if you were a leader, or if you were a servant, like myself. If this snake was a superior, then perhaps I would be vulnerable to his every command. If only I understood the tough Norse language, than I would have a better notion of their relationship - but at this moment, at a time of uncertainty, I only had one thing to base my knowledge, and that was body language.

You didn't seem worried. Your glazed over eyes seemed more unimpressed than frightened, and that seemed to bring a sort of calm to my mind. I stayed close to your body, as if a baby pigeon sinking under its mother's wing. I had nothing to defend myself but my wit, but with a man with Norse language, I didn't even have that. I paled in comparison to your size, and even next to a thinner snake-man, I was still tiny. Still, I kept my back strong and my head high, not wanting to coward under his sneaky presence. My eyes tried not to look at him as he approached me, but they couldn't help but shift over to his slimy demeanor. As he grabbed a flock of my hair, I whipped my head to the side, as if to hiss at him. I said nothing, but my reaction was clear in the sharp look in my eyes. Don't touch me.

In that moment, my grip tightened in your hand. I wasn't so much afraid now, as I was becoming feisty. Just as quickly as I was to snap my head, you reacted just as fast - smacking his arm away from my body. He retracted like a snake, too. This human I did not understand - I was beginning to see how Anglo men could deem the Vikings as wild. Although I found your monstrous form of fighting intriguing, I found the black-eyed drunk to be distasteful, and offensive. I was relieved as he departed. My grip lightened and I let go of your hand.

"Is it the ale that causes him to squirm, or does he always move so strangely?" Some may have deemed my tongue to be rude, but I was consumed with both irritation and curiosity. I was utterly ignorant to the entire Norse culture, and if I wanted to survive, I had to understand.

My eyes trailing back towards you, I watched as you walked over to the bath. I calmly crossed my arms over below my bosom - holding my upper arms in each hand. I watched as the blood scabbed on your body became diluted, and began to wash off of your thick skin. As you looked back towards me and complimented, my enthralled gaze was broken, and my eyes returned to yours. I smiled warmly. The statement had awed me. How could a beast speak with such a sweet tongue? I reveled in its sweetness - having never been told something so beautiful. I opened my mouth to speak, but was speechless as my face reddened. Instead of speaking, I embraced your lips against mine; my folded arms falling from position. I lightly grazed my fingers over your defined forearms as my lips separated from yours. I hummed lightly, smiling.

Interrupting your hands as they washed your body, I stole the cloth from your grip and smiled. I dipped the bloody cloth into the lukewarm tub and soaked the cloth. The blood transferred to stain the clear water, but I didn't take note of it. Taking the cloth back in my hands, I twisted it tightly and wrung out the excess. Bringing my body extraordinarily close to yours, I began to wipe your body for you. I listened to your words, but stayed quiet as I dragged the cloth over your back, and down your spine. As you asked me to sing, I began to hum a soft lullaby. Gently moving the cloth back up to your shoulder, I pulled your arm back and gently turned you to face me. I continued to hum for you, smiling as my eyes fixated on the blood fading from your skin. Dragging the towel over your chest, I pulled it down the front of you. As I passed it over your chiseled abdomen, my eyes followed the cloth closely as it trailed down your stomach towards the edge of your trunks. Coming to wipe the last splatter of blood, I lightly pulled the cloth away from you right before hitting your pelvic region.

My eyes shifted to look at you as the lullaby ceased. "For you, anything."

Rollo sat and watched as Daralis wiped the blood off, each time the cloth touched his skin his eyes drifted from her hands to her eyes. Each time she touched him the water took the blood away, the blood of his enemies, the blood of her people. Rollo felt ensnared as he watched her, the simple act of washing him somehow took on so much more, he'd had this feeling once before with Siggy. A simple touch became a world of its own, there was a heart to it that he could not ignore. Whether the song, Daralis, or some combination of both, Rollo knew he was not going to leave her.

As she finished he sat there a moment studying her, his eyes travelling over every curve of her body. The song held him spellbound but as it finished he reached down and took her hands in his, studying the fingers as if there was some way to see from their shape and feel the way she had tamed him. "Floki is like a snake, he moves like one and lives like one. It is not the ale that makes him so, ask him and he will tell you its the Gods, but he does live like a serpent" Rollo began in his deep voice, spreading her slight fingers between his own, "he hides and bides his time until he strikes."

His free hand reached up as he finished to touch and rest softly on her cheek, a bemused smile appearing within the beard. Pulling her close looked deep into her eyes until she was close enough, her lips close to his own, to almost touch. "Floki is not the only snake that you need to worry about."

The warning was soft, as the kiss that followed. Pulling her close, closing his eyes as he drew her to him. He sat on the edge of the tub, their heights matched well enough. As he kissed her the sounds of the castle drew back, leaving them alone for the moment. Rollo wanted her, not to ravage though he had that desire, he wanted something else. Something more. As he enjoyed that brief kiss, slowly drawing back and looking at the face that had enchanted him he wondered if he could lose himself to another. Unfearing in battle Rollo would charge into a wall armed only with the armor of the gods and an axe, but to run to a woman, that took bravery of a different kind.

Smiling he held her hand, an arm around her, keeping her close. His own Princess, Rollo wondered if this was how Ragnar felt when he beheld Aslaug. Daralis was beautiful, her voice held something of the Gods within it, and she was his. Something that Ragnar did not have, could not have. To keep her for himself, Rollo wondered if that was possible. Ragnar had a way of taking everything he wanted away. As he held her close, looking at her, Rollo promised himself he would not lose her, not like he did Siggy.

"You will stay by my side," he told her. Rollo wanted to conquer these lands, and give them to her. Raising a finger he touched her slight nose, then her chin, "a Princess needs a kingdom. We will make you a kingdom," the crash of voices and rauscous singing echoed from downstairs. Quietly he pulled her close again, feeling her body against his, her heat against his own, he wanted more but not now. It was not the time, he needed to keep Ragnar disinterested, Daralis would not be lost to his brother's plans. They would join the feast downstairs, let Darlis sing, they could all appreciate her voice and beauty, then Rollo would take her away while the feasting continued and they ate and drunk themselves into a stupor and forget her. They would have time alone then.

"First though," stealing another kiss as he enjoyed the feel of her against him, "we need to appease the beasts."

My eyes fell upon your coarse hands as they examined my own. Although my fingers were thin, and delicate, they were not as soft as they should be for a princess. Softer than a bear-man, certainly, but not as soft as the finest, most virginal maiden of the Anglo kingdoms. For a moment, my heart began to race; wondering if such a fine detail would be noticed among a man of such brute force. The entire Kentish kingdom once mocked the intelligence of the Norse - stating they were all muscle but no brains, yet here I was with ravaging being, with sweat forming at my temples, whether you'd be cunning enough to raise concern over my laboring hands.

You were smart, there was no doubt about it. If you were as monstrous as they said, you would have mindlessly raped me repeatedly without question, and then bludgeoned me with your own mighty hands. Yet here I stood, with a man as kind as to curl his fingers within my own. A man with such refined kindness emitting from his dark brown eyes. I was smitten - more so than I had ever been before.

I smiled against your lips as they touched my own. Breaking the kiss gently, I was still smirking. "Maybe the snake I have to worry about is you." My charming grin was promising. I was not being serious, I was trying to be flirtatiously, and cheeky. As you pulled me close to you by the tub, I didn't resist. I chuckled playfully; allowing your arm to coil around my small frame. "Through blood and water. Thick and thin." I nodded lightly as you told me to remain by your side. As you continued about a kingdom, I gave out a hesitant hum. "Mmmm..." Thinking about it, I made a doubtful expression, though I was still smiling. "Not this one." I rejected that notion, "Not these lands." Running my hand down the side of your face, I gave a single stroke of your beard as I looked into your eyes.

"I dream of adventure..." Pulling from you after you kissed me once more, I smiled and leaned back. Your hand still in mine, I pulled you from the tub back to a standing position. "... I dream of battle." My grip softening in yours, I spun my body around as if to mimic dancing. My white gown twirled around my curves before I stopped my body among its spin. Snatching an empty bucket off the ground, I pathetically held it out like it was a weapon. "Will you teach me? To fight?"

It was a sight to see. A delicate flower in a crouching, striking position holding up not an axe, nor a shield, but a hollow bucket. But I seemed so falsely confident. I had a challenging smile and bright eyes. I was eager to learn; and eager to please.

Rollo could not contain himself, for a moment his chest and body quivered as he held in the laughter. Slowly containing it until he boiled over, the view of the woman before him, barely dressed and so slight next to him. Whatever feelings had been hiding within for her boiled over at that moment, the incredible joy at seeing her raise the bucket like a sword, ready to strike, amused him to no end. Wiping the tears away from his face he stood and let the laughter subside, catching his breath as he did so, his sides hurt and he hugged himself a moment.

"Battle?" His eyes turned serious for a moment, as he looked at her slight form. She was slight, beautiful, almost like the sunshine in the morning. One look at her told you she was not a fighter. The eagerness was not to be missed though, he leaned down and looked at her intently, "battle is fear, and blood, and shit, and piss. Its watching your enemy loose his bowels in fear as you stand in the wall. The feel of his warm blood running down your hand as you twist the knife in him," at this he raised the dagger between them.

Eyes turning to the blade from her, it took a force of will, she was a delight and already Rollo was looking forward to keeping her close. And warm. In his bed. The blade twisted one way, then another, catching the sun as it filtered in the room from the windows. "The blade, can cut your enemies heart out, or stab and make him bleed to death slowly. There are innumerable ways to kill a man." Reaching his hand out he took the bucket from her hand and tossed it aside, listening to its hollow sound as it hit the floor and rolled away.

"You are right, I am a snake." The words came back to him, he had spoken of them so long ago. Rollo wanted to viking, he loved the heat of battle, the sound of weapons clashing, it stirred his blood. "I change my skin like a snake, always a new Rollo." Taking her hand in his put the dagger in her hand, feeling the roughness of her hands, not quite the princess or queen this one. Smiling knew she was used to hard work, if she wanted to be a shield maiden, so be it.

Giving her a light hearted hiss, closed her hand around the dagger. Standing behind her, close behind her, their bodies touching. He could smell the bath on her from before, her hair contained a hundred scents from the kitchen to the bath, all of it woman. Rollo felt himself respond to her as he lay on her like a second skin, his hand over hers keeping a tight grip to the dagger. His other hand sliding around her waist and holding her close while his hand easily wrapped around hers, even with the dagger in it, he made a few moves.

"Always start with a dagger, its easy and light. You have to get close though, then you strike," he feinted one way then another before stabbing out. A slight touch on her, his body pressing on her as he made the movements. They were killing strikes, but with each movement he was close to her, touching her, it was almost like making love. His voice was soft and low, a whisper in her ear as he told her how to kill. "You need to strike through your enemy, don't just jab at him, you need to see the blade moving through, or it will not be a killing blow."

Watching you burst out laughing at my swift but weak display of naive bravery, I couldn't help but smile. I was not to be offended, as I knew how ridiculous a woman looked holding up a bucket out of all items to the face of an expert fighter. To you, I was just a woman with an enthusiastic dream; but to me, I had the potential to do anything, including kill another man. “What!?” I tried not to crack up laughing, but it was evident by the beaming smile on my face that I was attempting to stay serious, but failing miserably. Chuckling slightly, I took a breath to swallow any other laughter. “You laugh now, but you will see.”

I gave a proud smile as you describe the hardships of war and battle. “Mhm.” I agreed. “When you have nothing to lose, fear is just a dream.” I listened to you closely, and didn't fight back as you took the bucket and tossed it to the side. My eyes followed it as it flew several feet before striking the ground. The loud clashing sound of the steel hitting the pavement did not phase me. Rather, I continued to smile as my eyes trailed back to focus on you. They followed you as your came around me and placed the dagger in my hands. I changed my attention, now, onto the blade in my palm, and your hand gripping my own around it. I sneaked in a quick peak of you over my shoulder as your body pressed against my backside. My smile diminished slightly, but out of curiosity of the blade and not out of disinterest.

Charmed by your words and your movement, I smiled and allowed my body to remain limp in your arms. My body followed your movements as you moved hand and my arms. I chuckled lightly as we swayed as one. “There are many ways to use this dagger.” I insisted with a smile. Peeling my body from yours, I took the dagger in my hand alone and turned around to face you. Running my thumb over the handle, I looked down at it; entranced by its power.

Pausing, I gave a devlish grin as I kept a distance from you and began to circle you slowly. “You laugh, but... you think I cannot do it...?” Grinning, I began twirling the blade slowly over my fingers. Surely, I had held a knife before in my hands. Not a dagger, but a chef's blade. I was cook, that little information could be acquired simply by my familiarity with this knife. My delicate frame came full circle to face you again before stopping. There was a moment of silence as it appeared I was staring at you. In reality, my eyes were focusing on a target right behind you. Suddenly, I launched the dagger right for your head. The blade missed your cheek by barely an inch before it slammed against the wall behind you. The target? A painting of the great King Cuthred of Kent; the man I loathed the most on this earth. The dagger stuck out of his figurative head; sitting perfectly right between his two hollow eyes.

"Open your eyes, and you will see...” My voice sung in a low, lovely tune. “...All the things that can come to be.". Looking at the painting, I smiled. The feral look in my eyes like a lioness sighting an antelope in the distance.

As the blade passed by his head Rollo could not help but turn and look back at her. Eyes wide in surprise as he took a long look at the small, demure beauty who danced and sang before him. It took a moment but he let out a loud laugh that for a moment stilled the castle, it was as if the laugh had been growing inside him for years and only now found its way out. Pointing at her, then the knife, could only get out the words "you" and "knife" while his cheeks and jaw began to ache with the humor.

He thought he was the dangerous one in the room, turning he took the knife and stepped back next to her, the laughing subsiding as he stepped beside her. Gesturing with his head he held the knife out, then a quick flick of the wrist as the knife glinted once in the light before burying itself with a hollow sound in the painting. "You," finally getting control of himself as his sides hurt, a new respect for this one growing, "are a surprise. A better treasure than anything I could have found here."

She was a delight, he sat on the edge of the tub again, pulling her close to him. Watching that wild look in her eyes, wary of it but fascinated. "I've never met a woman like you before," then putting his head to the side looked at her as if for the first time. "Well I've met women like you, but not like you. Viking women, do that sort of thing." A gesture of his head towards the knife, Lagertha could do that, and more, but not all could. Not all women were shield maidens or wanted to be.

Rollo wanted her more, the only fear he had now was if Ragnar would want her. That he could not bear, Rollo would not lose another woman to his brother. His life for the cause, in a fight yes, then he could wait in Valhalla. Another woman, no. That would not do. Stroking her hair as he looked upon her face knew he was lost to her, this singing vision of the Mercians. A surprising little thing, like a little animal with claws. Sharp claws.

"So him," Rollo pulled her into his lap. Enjoying the warmth of her next to his bare chest, the dining downstairs getting louder as the ale flowed. The singing punctuated by the occasional cheer to whomever might be fighting, the dull sound of bodies exchanging blows. Soon they could go down, he would show them his treasure, then leave with her and food for them. Turning towards the painting with the knife stuck between its eyes, "who is this man that you hate so much?"

Pride. It was the only thing that filled my soul as you roared into laughter. To me, the laughing was not a sign of ridiculous, but a symbol for impression. And I had certainly made a wonderful impression. From a lithe, naive Kentish woman to a fierce target-shooter, I had to do something to keep your interest. As much as I wished to be a proper, polite noblewoman in the past, my desires were changing. Desires I had suppressed for most of my life and upbringing. I didn't want to be a princess, I wanted to be a warrior. I wanted to be someone who can look out for those who didn't stand a chance. To be someone I didn't have; a protector. I was a fighter.

Crossing my arms over my chest as I beamed in this new-found pride. I had been so used to being ridiculed, mocked, and degraded for my bastard status. I had never had the respect I thought I deserved, but now, I could see myself through your deep brown eyes. You saw me as a vision; as a scene of glory and beauty. Looking through your eyes, I had never felt so free; and so alive.

As you pulled me into your lap, I chuckled lightly. It was a light laugh; almost a soft giggle as you raved about me. Feeling a confident boost, I sneered. "You should see what I can do with an arrow." Amazingly, I wasn't lying. I could be anyone I wanted around you; and you would never know if it were true or not. But the truth was, that I wasn't as lady-like as my father had expected for me. As a young child, I had been lunged into royal political madness and treated as a slave, rather than a princess. As part of that lifestyle, I had developed skills that I wouldn't have developed if I had grown up under the wing of my own father.

Stretching my neck to look at the painting, I took a moment to answer. Gritting my teeth, I took a breath in. "Why, that is the great King Cuthred!" Spitting at the direction of the painting, I grunted. "So great, he fled his country in order to save his own arse. He betrayed his people..." Still glaring at his painted face, my eyes could burn holes with the intensity of their stare. "... He betrayed his family." Breaking the glare, I twisted my neck to look at you. My face close to the side of yours, I continued. "He was a coward; a pathetic excuse for a King..." Displeased with his escape, I added. "He's my uncle."

Rollo's eyes widened as he looked at the picture on the wall, the knife blade sunk between the eyes of the portrait, then back to Daralis. He wondered what this King did to her to raise such venom in her voice as she spoke of her uncle. Such a beautiful face, a voice from the Gods in a small woman, who held such a big hate for one man. Though it might be fortunate that they met With her skills, and that hate, Rollo might just be able to take the lands here. This time, he wondered if the spoils could be his, turn this place into his own. Rollo did not want to rule, he liked going Viking, but the spoils here could raise many ships and many men.

"Is he the one who ran from here?" Rollo had seen a trail of horses and people on the far side of the plains when they neared the castle. Thinking it was only the servants, not soldiers, who had fled for the safer walls of a bigger city. Only when they entered here and found no resistance did he wonder who they were, now he laughed at their cowardice, if they behaved like that taking spoil here would be easier than he thought.

Putting a hand under her chin raised it up, "the daughter of a king, and niece to another. I do hope your father is a braver king than him," tilting his head towards the painting Rollo let his eyes drift to her lips. Following the lush line of her red lips with his eyes, then leaning in he kissed her. Holding his lips against hers until their breath came short, the smell of blood and sweat gone, only hers remained.

"Perhaps I will take your uncles lands and make you Queen," Rollo looked at her in the fading light of the day, the golden hue of the setting sun made her appear lustrous. More desirable than he had known a woman to be. One descended from royalty and she was his. "We might make your uncle a slave, let him serve you for once. Or you can throw knives at him for amusement."

A loud noise from downstairs shattered his calm, Floki, Ragnar and the others would be waiting for him. They would be well into the feast by now, the ale drunk and the kitchen hearths emptying. Rollo felt the ache in his belly, he wanted food, ale, and perhaps a song. Then he would enjoy his treasure, his Daralis. His big toothed grin showed through the beard as he thought about the pleasures that awaited them tonight.

"We should go and see the other beasts," Rollo laughed as he thought how some did smell like a beast. A few looked more like one than he did. "You sing for them, let them admire your voice, then we can find a place to be together. Just you," on impulse he kissed her lips again, "and me."

"Mmmmmm, yes." I replied to your proposal of rule. "We'd be the kingdom to rule them all." A smile beaming from my lips, I stared up into your eyes as if I could see glory winding in them. "As Queen, I'd take the coward as my slave. I'd pin him ot a wall and use him as a practice target, as you said." Chuckling lightly, I trailed my delicate fingers from your abdomen to your sides; lightly wrapping my arms around your waist as I looked up at you. Embracing your lips against mine once more, I smiled against the kiss.

As the roars from downstairs seemed only to grow in volume, I loosened my grip on your body and let go. My eyes falling away from your face; they focused on the open doorway that would soon lead us to the pits of this castle. There was a fear that began to rise in me. Yes, I had conquered one beast. But to conquer them all? One, two, even 12 of them? Perhaps one man would fall liking to me, but what is the others did not? Would I even last a minute before being taken forcibly against my will; raped on nights without end. Would I become the slave I had become accustomed to being? With such a taste in my potential freedom through your lips, I could turn back now.

My head darted back to look at you. Grasping your hand desperately, my eyes were wide and my throat tried to swallow the tremble in my voice. "Will you protect me?" I asked, now worried more about my safety than anything else. I had gone from joy to unease within a split second. Searching for comfort in your dark green eyes, I tried to hide my quickening breaths. I was panicking beyond my control. Suddenly, the sound of savage men drunk in victory and wild in freedom was the only thing I could hear.

Snapping out of my unreasonable thoughts, I gripped your hand a little less fiercely and tried to relax myself. "I can sing to them, like I did to you. Then... then they will like me, yes?" Swallowing roughly, my fear of rejection was blurring my usual sense of self-confidence. "But if they laugh at me..." I muttered under my breath; in a sort of muffled whisper that I hadn't realized escaped me. It was a thought that had accidentally surfaced in reality; something I wanted to keep locked inside my little pretty head. "WELL!" My head rose suddenly and my eyes became fierce again. "Then I will laugh, too!" My confidence returning, I buried my fear deep within me like I had when I first met you.

Spontaneously pushing my lips roughly on yours again, I gave a jittery, strong kiss before breaking off and giving a bright-eyed, eager smile. "Take me to the beasts!"

Rollo could not help but laugh at how eager she was, as he grabbed his axe and walked next to her, a hand around the tiny waist he stopped at the top of the stairs. "It's best if you do not mention to anyone that I can speak your tongue," he warned her. "No one other than you knows, and I would like to keep it that way for a time. I will mimic what I want you to do, but won't speak like this, only when we are alone."

His eyes warned her, be cautious. It was one advantage he had over Ragnar and Rollo wanted to keep it that way, until such a time as it was no longer necessary. Right now, was not the time. Taking her in hand led her through the halls of the castle to where the men were carousing in the feasting hall. Others wandered through the castle, some looking at him and at Daralis, a few sharing a cup of ale or wine with Rollo for his feat at the wall. With a hand around her waist they looked at Daralis and joked at the treasure he had found. Laughing with them hinted that the best part of it was yet to come, letting their imaginations wander at what their night together would be like.

In the hall Ragnar was spread out on the chair by the table, Floki next to him joking with some of the others. Ragnar laughed and watched two men beating each other, one a large bare chested viking, and another slightly smaller man. They traded blows, the smaller one had fear in his eyes as he went to swing, the viking moving out of the way skillfully to the cheers of those assembled. Still it was all play, whenever a prisoner was taken who showed some spirit he was placed in the middle of the feast to fight, if the did well he would be fed and maybe left to live. If not, then he would be beaten to death, or killed later, depending on how they felt. Only a few blows and the smaller man fell and with a bloodied face was dragged from the room as attention came to them.

"What have you got there brother?" Ragnar leaned back and asked, his eyes taking in Daralis in moments.

"Treasure," Rollo answered as he walked up to the table, dropping the axe among the platters of meat and bread. Picking up a cup of ale he leaned back as he let go of Daralis as she stood before Ragnar. Floki's eyes showed recognition as slim hands pointed at Rollo and Daralis, a laugh coming as Floki asked the question. "Not yet," he answered. Knowing they all thought he'd already taken her to bed, "later." A shrug as he drained the ale and took a haunch of meat from the platter.

Mimicing with his mouth and hands as he looked upon Daralis, she was a light among the beasts. Rollo laughed at the comparison, with their hair and beards they could come across that way, it helped as it brought terror to their enemies. Gave them an advantage. Now he used it, "wait until you hear this." Rollo said to Ragnar who took a cup and looked over the rim at Daralis, Rollo nodded and with a slight look of pride and expectation waited for her to sing.

Taking my hand in yours, I squeezed it gently. I was placing all my trust in you, without any sort of justification to it. For all I knew, the rumours of the Norsemen were true. You could turn on me, become the savage I initially thought you to be, and ravage me without mercy, and without compassion. I would certainly be surprised, but if I were to survive the event, that surprise would diminish and I would be left a fool. Still, I had confidence that if my fate was to be so, then it would have already happened, and you would have already taken me against my will.

Leading down the stairwell to the main floor, the roars of the Vikings became louder and louder. With every step, my heart beat harder and harder. This was the moment of truth, the moment of acceptance. If they chose to reject me as a mate, or even as simply as a slave among them, then I would be dead. I had you to protect me. You were big, and you had courage. But most of all, you were the fiercest of man I had ever seen - climbing the great wall to behead your enemies without a single shred of armour. Surely, if you were not the strongest, you most certainly were the bravest.

As the eyes fell upon me and your hand curled around my waist, I looked up at you in a moment of insecurity. I was suddenly afraid, but turning to you and seeing your beaming pride of me made me feel secure again. I looked away from you, and to the others around me, smiling as their curious eyes fell on me. Now, I wasn't afraid. If I were to cower, I would only paint a target on my back. With you by my side, I didn't need to fear, I needed to be brave, just like you.

I listened carefully as you introduced me to another tough-looking Viking. He, however, looked friendly to you, although he seemed to be an authoritative figure. I swallowed roughly as his eyes locked on mine, and stayed there. He too looked at me like I was a treason, though his gaze made me uncomfortable, and not warm. Shifting my eyes to you, I couldn't understand any of this foreign language. But as you waved to me as the room fell silent, I only assumed that was my signal to sing.

Giving a suddenly nervous smile, I took a deep breath and unleashed my soft voice.


The room was silent.
Although there were murmurs and snickers at the very beginning of my chant, by the time the last word rolled off my silky tongue, I had the attention of all of the Norsemen in the dining hall. My eyes locked on yours, my lips curled into a warm small.

As Daralis finished Rollo was still leaning against the table, except for the smile that had grown on his face as her voice filled the room. Looking around the men, some who swayed from too much drink, and others who stared not understanding the words, but hearing the voice that was enchanting. For a moment even Floki was silent, then leaning forward the look in his eyes made him think there was something coming that Rollo would not want to hear so he started clapping and walking around Daralis. As he passed each warrior his eyes and shoulders gestured at them to start, slowly the clapping began. Then the pounding as he walked around and around the sounds and stamping growing loud enough to crack the castle itself.

Ragnar stood and held his hands up, leaping nimbly over the table, losing the furred cape as he did so. "Quite a treasure that you found here, brother." Ragnar stepped up close to her, leaning his body back and tilting his head in that way that sometimes annoyed Rollo. It was as if his brother could somehow see deep in one's heart and look at that which you most desired, or seeked to keep hidden. The bright eyes narrowed and then slowly a hand came up.

Rollo stepped between them, the hand grabbing Ragnar's write, an eyebrow raising in a silent challenge as Rollo stood tall before him. "She is my spoil, for taking the castle." Rollo told him, knowing it was a custom that could not be denied. Rollo had made the wall and opened the gate, that gave him first choice of anything found in the walls.

"All right," Ragnar said then tugged his arm lightly, Rollo opened his palm as they stared at each other. To others it would seem an innocent conversation, but it was a silent challenge that had run between them since childhood. The tension between them grew, and then Daralis put a hand on Rollo's arm and looked around him. "Very well, if this is your choice brother, then take her." Turning as he made his way back to the chair, Ragnar raised his voice, "my brother takes his reward for the gate!" The men cheered as Ragnar sat back on the chair, putting on the cape again and filling his cup, gesturing towards the empty seat to his left.

"I suppose another slave won't hurt," Ragnar said in the language of the Kents, then in mock surprise repeated himself in Norse. "If you want her as a slave take her, she seems too small for good work though. Probably won't last the year."

Rollo moved to the chair and sat down, pulling Daralis into his lap. "I think she'll be well suited for what I intend," he said with a smile as his arms went around her. The men nearby laughed as two others got up and standing before them drunkenly began to punch each other to see who would be the last one standing. Rollo gestured towards the table, indicating to Daralis that she should eat, and feed him as they sat quietly, Rollo watching his brother out of the side of his eye, as Ragnar was watching him.

"I am a valuable asset. I can not only sing, but I can dance, entertain... and I can shoot." Arrows, that was. Archery was one of my biggest strengths. I corrected this man, a mysterious ruler in my eyes. If this was the notorious Ragnar, which I assumed was based solely on his arrogance, I was not impressed by his quick judgement. Although he was correct in his assumption of my place in this Kentish world, he was premature in deeming my qualities. I felt immediately insulted. Although I had not completely admitted my servant status to you. Trying to uphold the white lie I had already started, I was defiant in my means, though still not disrespectful. I held my head high and my shoulders back as I spoke to the man in Old English. "I am more than just a slave."

Ragnar looked at me with narrowed eyes. My hand had already curled around your forearm, claiming what man was mine as you claimed me as your own. For a woman with such little knowledge of this culture, and such little time spent in the face of it, I had already heeled my loyalty to you, Rollo of Kent. That undying loyalty could be perceived both strategically and naively. As a petite female of foreign background, with her kingdom now seiged by Pagans, perhaps it was smart of me to have found someone to woo to my side. Feeding off the territorial needs of these men, I found myself a protector. Perhaps it was a naive loyalty, one that would result in another life of servanthood and slavery. There was no way to tell the outcome of my choice at this moment. But I had made my decision, and placed all my trust in you.

As your arm returned my grasp, wrapping around me, I smiled warmly. "Give me a bow and arrow and I can show you want I'm really made of." With challenging eyes focused on Ragnar, I acknowledged your inquiry for food and swayed my feminine form elegantly over to the table. Seeing a massive slab of cattle that had been recently purchased for the celebration of the defeat of the Norse people. "The King of Kent was an arrogant man." I looked at the cow, which had taken two days to cook properly, "He purchased this sacred meat, in belief that he would defeat you." I smiled, trying to fight back the urge to laugh at that notion. How I hated that man.

Taking pieces of bread in my hand, I glanced briefly at Ragnar, wondering if he would respond to my tongue, and to that blasphemous statement. Most men here ate with their hands, but I was not endorsing that savage habit. Walking over to a glass cabinet unit in the corner of the room, I didn't so much as blink as men followed me with their eyes. Sighing lightly at the sight of all of them, dropping pieces of food on to the freshly cleaned floors, I shook my head. Opening the glass door, I grabbed hold of a stack of fine china and cutlery and strutted back over to the table. "A plate, for efficient eating." I demonstrated, holding the plate up and placing the bread on it. I looked around the room and waved to other to follow suit, though didn't want for anyone to do so or acknowledge it. I had left the door to the cutlery and other dishes open, too, in case anyone wanted to take directly from there.

Glancing at you briefly, I smirked and using a fork and meat knife, I cut chunks of the juicing meat and placed it on a plate. Grabbing some cheese, that had also been leftover from the escape, I decorated the dish nicely, like it was artwork. Striding back over to your side, I sat back on your lap, as you had motioned before. Moving the plate to you, I allowed it into your hands, wondering secretly how you would eat it. Unsure of what custom you were used to, I left the fork cemented in the center of the chunk of meat. Having only made one plate, I did not grab food for myself, except for a piece of bread, which I happily chewed on.

"Instead he furnished our feast," Ragnar responded to her taunt in the language of the Kents. Looking over at Rollo and grinning, as if winning some unspoken contest between them. Rollo understood but shrugged as two men began brawling at the end of the table over the same cut of meat.

Rollo watched her movements with more interest than Ragnar who gave his attention the room for a moment. The rest around them quieting down as Daralis took a plate and held up to them, some sneering at the easily broken plate. The fork and knife were of more use as she filled the plate with bread, cheese, and meat. Floki sneered at the effort she took to fill the plate and come back to Rollo where she handed it to him, the fork sticking up from the middle of the juicy, steaming meat.

Looking at it curious there were shouts of challenge, and some of the waste of time to fill the plate. A note that only women could spend time making something like that, and not Norse women. Looking into her eyes for a moment saw the defiance in there, a woman who would bend but not break. A strength that came from will and not from size or strength. Smiling and laughing at it Rollo curled his hand around the fork and picked it up, the chanting started nearby then ran around the table. Turning to Ragnar who smiled and sat back in the chair, hiding his face in a cup, Rollo lifted the fork and holding it over his mouth slowly brought the meat into his mouth and then yanked it away roughly as he clamped teeth around the juicy meat. Blood and juice ran into his beard as he chewed happily.

The fork rested uncomfortably in his hand, a cheer around the table as Rollo ate with a broad smile, as if he had conquered the walls of the castle again. Ragnar put the cup on the table and clapped softly, an uneasy smile on his face. "Well done brother, you've just become civilized."

Floki laughed then sneered, "Rollo? It will take more than eating like a Christian to do that."

"Come Floki, can't you see the little witch is taming him?" Ragnar teased. Still impressed with the singing and how she commanded the room, the slight woman amid the large, hairy vikings. There was no fear in her eyes around them, as she stood in Rollo's shadow.

Holding the fork like a knife Rollo tried twice to get another piece of meat on the the end of the small points, succeeding with another grin. Turning his arm uncomfortably, the mean hanging from the bottom of his hand he raised it up to Daralis' mouth as another chant started nearby. The men were drunk enough that anything seemed to be a challenge and worth celebrating. Rollo grinned at her, this rare jewel that he had found. A strange and interesting treasure that was more than she seemed. Enjoying himself with her began to wonder what he would do with her later, though his body knew what it wanted he wondered if he would just take it, or she would challenge him with it again.

Urging her on with a look in his face held the meat up to her lips, the men about chanting as they pounded the table like that had with the bouts before Ragnar. Eyes intent on her, Rollo jutting out his chin and with his eyes urged her on to take it. Wondering if she would. "Come on my Queen," he whispered softly in Norse to her.

At the corner of my eye, I could feel Ragnar's and Floki's eyes burning intently at me; watching me. I tried to avoid their sights, but their gazing was simply too hard to resist. Finally, I caved to that pressure, I turned my head to look at them. Just by their sly mouths moving and their puzzle stares, I could tell I was the subject of reference in their chit-chatting. I simply smiled confidently at them, not wanting my frail form to be mistaken as someone who is intimidated or weak. Although woman had virtually no place in any society, even within Anglo-Saxon culture, I did not want to appear like an object.

All these men seemed so entertained. Their amusement from such a basic, proper act such as cutlery was so disproportionate to anything I have expected. My eyes were wide and enlightened as I watch all of them chant, scream, and bang on the tables around us. I had never seen such an uproar from such a rowdy bunch of grown men. I laughed at the situation, finding their amusement to be a foreign joy. This was becoming a big, grand ol' informal party, but it was fun to me in all of its strangeness.

I turned to you, smiling as I said. "Well, what will it be?" I challenged alongside with all of these men, watching you eagerly to see if you would handle the fork like a civilized gentlemen and eat from it like an Anglo-Saxon. As you grinned, I knew instantly that you would be a good sport; that you could not refuse a challenge as such. I snickered as you brought the meat to your mouth, pulling at it like the savage Norsemen you were. I was captivated by you in that moment, as my eyes followed the juices of the beef as it rolled down your extensive beard. I had never seen something so revolting from a man; yet my bright smile proved only to show I was none other than pleased, even aroused. The reality was that you were such an alien to me; to my culture. But in all of your primitive being, you were so handsome, and so manly.

Nodding lightly with my brows raised, I was evidently pleased. "Wow. I'm impressed." I said, genuinely surprised that you pulled forward with as much grace as you possibly could, given you had never used such a utensil to eat your food. But, just as I thought the chanting would subside, there was another uproar in the crowd. There was chanting again, in words I could not understand, but I did not need language to understand that this was another egging. I looked around the room surprised before turning back to you. Seeing a piece of bleeding meat in your bare hands, my head jerked back slightly. Suddenly I understood their pounding as you hoisted the meat to my face. It was my turn to take a taste at something new.

Turning to face the crowd again, I bobbed my head - giving exaggerated nods to show I understood. I shifted my head back to you again, gazing at you for a moment as I thought about how I would do this. My eyes moved from your face to the meat several times as there was a pause; a sense of hesitation. Though, just as it seemed I would not chew into the piece with a true, messy Viking, I did. Moving like a snake, I whipped my neck forward, head tilted to the side, and snatched that chunk of oozing meat right from your hands. Though, as I put the meat in my mouth, I made sure to slither my tongue over your fingers; sucking your digits into my mouth for a second as I took it from you. As it transferred from your fingers to my lips, my pale, olive-green eyes stayed locked on yours.

The crowd went wild.