Waging War Against the Heavens (Alvis and xanaphia)

Althaea had broken her fast when she heard the Jarls word, was nearly moving toward him of her own accord. She stopped after a few paces, remembering that she wasn’t supposed to know what was said, and let Thorkell guide her over as he was instructed to. Resisting wouldn’t have been an option, as she felt the strength in Thorkell’s grasp. Of course, she remembered the way he smashed in her door that first night, which was proof enough of his power. Still, she had resigned herself to playing along for now, until she received a sign from Athena. Another sigh, that was.

“Yes, Jarl,” she spoke in Greek to the Jarl, knowing that he spoke it well enough. He spoke to her of their task, seeking her sight once more. Once more she couldn’t help but wonder if Athena would aid her, in another attack on her favored city. How much did the life of a seer mean when weighed against the city?

Still, she was graced with visions. Or perhaps cursed, as it was. Never the less, she relayed what she had seen.

“Athens is still recovering from the attack on the temple, and the fire that spread through the city. They are still on high alert, anticipating a follow up attack. Waiting until nightfall will not work again. In the hours before morning is when they will be at their most vulnerable. If you strike form east to West, your men will meet resistance. West to East and the sentries will not trouble you.”

“Is there anything else?”

"Prepare the ships. We sail on the morrow." The Jarl intoned with a raised hand. The en roared in approval, all but one who looked displeased, looking at his drink. "Something on your mind Bjorn?" The Jarl asked.
"Do we now march ont he whim of a foreign woman with visions from a foreign Goddess?" Bjorn challenged. "How do we know this woman speaks truly? Or that her Goddess would mean us well?" The Jarl nodded his head.
"These thoughts are not lost on me. Thorkell!" At the call of his name Thorkell stepped forward.
"Yes my Jarl?" He asked.
"You have command fothe raid. Bring your charge with you. If her visions prove false, then kill her. You have my leave to make it memorable. Else bring her back alive and reasonably undamaged." The Jarl sank back in his throne, the matter out of his mind already. Thorkell nodded. The Gods gave with one hand, and took with the other.

Thorkell looked to Althaea.
"Come, we've little time. We return to the mainland soon, and you will need further attire if we are to keep you alive when we get there." He told her as best he could in Greek. Leading the raid was a point of great honour, but having to carry the Seer with him was an inconvenience in the highest order for him. He couldn't throw himself into the fray as he normally did, else she'd be left unprotected. Thorkell slowed his pace, realizing he'd been moving faster than expected, putting some distance between them, adn there had been some shifting around from some of the less...restrained men. His glare settled them back into place. It was hard to say what was going to be harder to keep her safe from. The Greeks, or his own men.

Althaea tried not to show any expression on her face as the Jarl explained that she would be accompanying the war band to the mainland. Once more her life hung by the thread of her visions. She suppressed a shudder at the idle curiosity at what “make her death memorable” meant, but she swallowed down the fear. She nodded silently as Thorkell relayed the information in broken Greek and followed him through the settlement.

Returning to the mainland meant there was a chance she could be freed of her foreign captors. Dammit, she wished she knew the Jarl had planned to send her when he first asked for her opinion, she could have given them bad information to ensure her slavers were killed, as brutally as they had killed her fellow priest and priestesses. Even still, there was a chance of escape, and she would have to trust Athena to show her the way.

She had been so busy with internal machinations, she hadn’t kept pace with Thorkell as he moved, and she caught some whispering behind her. Jokes about whether walking funny could be considered reasonably undamaged. Another suggesting that she needn’t walk at all, just lie on her back. She felt herself tense at the innuendo of their words, the causal manner in which he spoke of raping her. Savages, the whole lot of them.

Thorkell turned with a hard look in his eyes. At first she thought it was directed at her, for falling behind, but nervous shifting behind her cleared up that misconception. She caught Thorkell’s eyes for a moment, before he turned once more, focused on his task. She quickened her pace to catch up, suddenly feeling safer around the Viking.

She was brought to an armor smith, and she listened as Thorkell explained that she would need some armor, since she would be travelling with the raiders to the mainland. There was a bit of negotiation before the smith motioned for her, and handed her some harden leather pieces and pointed behind a wide slab of wood to her to change into them. She nodded dutifully and did as she was bid to, slipping out of her linen dress. Folding it neatly, it occurred to her that it was her only possession at this time, and the thought saddened her for a moment. It was filthy by now, since she had worn it for three days now, and had marched and waded in it. Perhaps she could take some time to clean it, now what she had some armor to wear. Let it dry out while she was gone on the raid. Who knew when she might be able to replace it?

Nevertheless, she put on the leather armor, with was tight against her body, highlighting the curves of her delicate figure. The skirt was more like straps, and it ended about mid-thigh, far shorter that the dresses she was accustom to. There was a hint of cleavage at the throat of her top, and overall it felt far more exposed than her dress, even if it did protect her better. Still, she stepped out behind the slab, hardly able to meet Thorkell’s eyes. The smithy examined the armor, walking around her completely to inspect every angle. He laced up the back, so it was even tighter against her skin, and provided her with a pair of recycled lace up hoplite sandals, which went up to her knees.

When the smithy left them alone for a moment, Althaea placed a hand on Thorkell’s arm, gently. With a deep breath, she spoke to him in his native tongue. “Thank you, for this. I feel a bit safer already.” Before he could respond, she continued, “I should have told you about the gift my Goddess bestowed upon me earlier, but, truth be told, I wasn’t sure I could trust you.” She didn’t like speaking the language, each word felt like her mouth was full of honey. But she had a passable accent, and this really would make communication easier. He was her only ally, and communication was key now.

“I am surprised your smithy had armor to fit a woman on hand. Do the women of your lands wear armor often?” She asked genuine interest. “Athena, my Goddess, is the patron of both wisdom and war, yet women rarely participate in war here.“ Althaea mused, heedless of the eyes of Vikings upon her. After a while, she built up the courage to ask for one more thing.

“Might I have a weapon, so I can defend myself if need me? Even if it is just something small, like a dagger.”

Leathers would do, Thorkell thought to himself. With the way these Greeks fought, there was little risk thus far of them making it through his people to hit Althaea with more than a thrown javelin. While she still had some vulnerabilities with the leather, it was also the only armour he believed she'd be able to keep the march up in. Chain would weigh her down far too much, and any of the other options that had begun to surface amongst the band required far too much time and dedication for someone that was supposed to try adn stay out of the fighting.

Thorkell spent his time in the smithy wel, testing out the newly struck blades that were here. While their armour might not be as effective, being bronze, the Greeks knew good iron. A lot of captured weapons were being melted down and reforged into the straighter, alrger swords that the Norse favoured, as well as axes and a few hammers for the larger amongst them who favoured such. He heard the rasp of leather being pulled on, knowing that she was dressing herself behind only a screen. There was the urge to throw it aside, and make good on many of the threats that had been lobbed at her. It would be ewasy, he'd crush her to wall, and...

And where would that leave him? Gratified perhaps, but Thorkell had to admit that in the end, if he had to keep her close, not doing anything that gave her reason to try and kill him might be in his best interests. Ultimately he knew that if she killed him, the Jarl would likely find another to take her in, as a Seer had more value than a warrior. He sighed, testing the edge of a heavy knife, finding it to his satisfaction, and sliding it into a sheathe and then into his belt. An extra knife was never a bad idea.

The woman that stepped around the screen was not the Althaea that he'd seen before. It was another person. Her form ahd been partially hidden in the expanse of her dress before this, and he knew that he was going to have to be more vigilant in the near future, since she was likely going to be attracting far more attention to herself than she ahd been before, simply by virtue of being clad for the campaign.

When she was laced up, he knew that she'd be resonably safe on the trip, adn was about to leave when he felt her hand on his arm, and he actually felt himself tense a second under the unexpected contact. What was more when she spoke, she spoke in the safe clipped and hard edgfed language that he did. He stared at her a moment, feeling a twinge in his mind at what she was saying. She'd known the language, and it was apparently divinely gifted. Wasn't sure I could trust you... The words echoed in his head. They were...fair, but at teh same time he had to wonder just what else she was hiding from him?

There was still work to be done, adn they left the smithy, with THorkell looking about to ensure that the expedition was being prepared for properly. The men knew their tasks though, most of them having done this very activity dozens of times. He knew there was an unspoken need in this raid. Hitting the farms was good for causing the city strife. But eh island had only so much food, and had never been meant to support this many warriors. They would need to acquire what they could from the raid, to feed the warriors for more time. And they were always short on alcohol, which led to frayed tempers. These Greeks favoured wine, but he would see what could be found. When Althaea asked a question about the armour, he heard out her words, adn then allowed himself a smile.

"It is not...common for our women to pursue the fighting arts. But those who do are strong of will and determined. They are in many ways more...clever, and less direct than the men of my people, but in many ways no less lethal." He explained. "The company has perhap twenty of them among us." He explained. He gestured off to the side, near the edge of the plateau that the compund was on, where two women stood, clad in simple linen shifts, but moving a sword each through several fluid, graceful patterns. "They know they cannot match us in raw strength, so they learn to make each movement count. Those that manage, live on. Those that do not...die the same as any warrior on the field."

Her next request, after a moment made him hesitate. A thousand reasons not to give her a weapon leapt to mind, with precious few to allow it. If she was attacked by one of his men, she might deter them with a bared blade, but by drawing iron on them she might escalate things dangerously. But then...any amount of time she bought for herself increased the odds of his arrival to end the matter decisively. Dangerous or not, she didn't know how to properly use it to wound a fighting man. It was...reasonably safe. He slowly slid the sheathed knife he'd acquired int he smithy from his belt, and handed it to her. It was what his people called a seax, a fighting knife. For him, it was an effectgive knife. For her...the blade was nearly the length of her forearm, adn three fingers wide. It was nearly as large as some of the smaller swords carried by the Greek warriors.
"It's a killing blade. By mindful of it. And do not draw it unless you are in immediate danger. Drawing a weapon among my people announces your intent to kill them. The men may react...poorly, should you do so." He explained offhand, knowing that the jarl may not approve of this. But the jarl was not here, nor was he coming on the raid. It was Thorkell's decision to make, and for good or ill...he'd made it.

Althaea watched the woman warriors for a short time, in awe of their grace and strength. While it was clear they didn’t possess the strength of their male counterparts, they made up for it in their own ways. She doubted they feared for their safety among the men, and she wished she could learn from them. But now wasn’t the time.

Nevertheless, Thorkell agreed that she could indeed have a weapon. She examined the blade he lent her, far larger than the dagger she was expecting. In comparison to her small frame, it was no less than a short sword in her hands. She sheathed it killing, acknowledging his point about putting her in danger if she flaunted it. While she wished she could find some time to practice with it, she also feared Thorkell might take it back if she did. She doubted he would have given this to her if he thought she knew how to use it.

She had to spend the rest of the day following Thorkell around, as her new armor put her in more danger than the dress did, at least as far as catching men’s eyes. At least Thorkell didn’t look at her that way. Or if he did, he hadn’t acted on it or shown it. He had far more access to her than any other man, and fighting him off was hardly an option, even with the blade he gave her. Whatever the case, she thanked Athena for the dignity she had been afford this far.

Still while she followed Thorkell around, and helped where she could, she managed to find some time to clean her dress, and even found a place to let it hang to dry. Once she returned from the mainland -assuming the Goddess hadn’t abandoned her yet- it would dry enough to wear again.

There was some temptation to make conversation with Thorkell, as they moved about their tasks, but in truth she wasn’t even sure where to start. But, if she didn’t use the gift her Goddess had bestowed to help her survive her time among the Vikings, she felt as if she were wasting it. “What is your Homeland like? And why did you leave it, to come here?”

Thorkell could almost feel a sense of interest, maybe envy, coming off of Althaea at the sight of the training women. He wondered how she would react to being put through the paces of basic combat training. Still, the Jarl would skin him for even trying something like that. There were limits to the freedoms that the warriors enjoyed.

She followed him, not too closely really, she kept a certain distance, still safely nearby, but far enough that she didn't seem overly fearful. Or was it a sense of respect? There was little that needed doing that wasn't being done, though Thorkell had paused to examine a stack of spear. When the pile started to shift, poorly stacked as it was, he had moved to stop it. He had a sense of surprise when Althaea had helped him. Pitching in in small ways like this did on some level endear her to him somewhat.

He still did not truly trust her.

She was not a stupid woman, and he knew this. A smart prisoner would do what they could to ingratiate themselves with their captors, and he knew it well. But that wariness was still tempered by the fact that until they reached the shore, she ahd nowhere to go, and she knew it. Here, on the island, he could trust her well enough. It was starting to reach the twilight hours, a days work well done, and the ships were ready, missing only it's crew, when Althaea broke the silence between them.

His homeland? Why did she want to know? Simple curiosity he supposed, and it was a fairly asked question. He sighed faintly, looking out at the darkening sky, the setting sun reflected in the waves.
"We come from the North. Our land is frozen much of the time, and our people do want for the basics of life. Sometimes we sail for trade. Other we sail to take what we need. But most often, we sail for glory and plunder." He told her honestly. "Salt gets int he blood you see. Our people cannot stop once we start raiding. It's what separates the man who raids for his needs, and the warriors born. Every man here has been sailing and warring for more than a decade. We came here because...we had never been here before. The lands would not have suffered under our raids yet. They would be ripe and rich for the taking. Of course we did not know at the time that your people never stopped fighting one another long enough to accumulate as much wealth as we'd hoped." He actually cracked a smile at her with his last statement, not entirely serious, but not completely in jest either.

"And what of your people? Why have you not gone far beyond your shores? The man who hires us often, he says you crossed your sea, and have fought men called...Persians, but have gone no further than such. Are your people not curious, do they not crave to wander, and find more than they have seen?" He asked her. It seemed asking her a question was only fair. He had to admit a bit of curiosity of his own.

Althaea listened as Thorkell spoke of his homeland, and the need to raid to survive. Of glory in battle. It had a romantic tone to it all, as he spoke of it, though she imagined he would hear a different story from those who fell victim to pillage.

Still, she laughed as he joked about the wealthy of the Greek, and how it was found lacking. It was the first time she had done so since being captured, and it felt strange. Foreign. But for a moment she was allowed to forget that she was a spoil of raiding, that her life hung on a very thin thread. That her virtue was in even more peril, every moment she was surrounded by foreign men. She caught his eyes, lit up by his smile, and he was almost…no. She pushed down the errant thought.

"And what of your people? Why have you not gone far beyond your shores? The man who hires us often, he says you crossed your sea, and have fought men called...Persians, but have gone no further than such. Are your people not curious, do they not crave to wander, and find more than they have seen?"

“Like you said, we are too busy fighting amongst themselves to look beyond our borders much. Though, we have pushed back against those that would surmount us. My gift was first tested as the Persians came to conquer our lands, and we pushed them back with a far smaller force.” She spoke with some small pride about it, using her gifts to protect her people. But it was all warmongering and squabbling, even as she was passed to new owners. Perhaps this was why Athena allowed her to be captured, so that her people could learn to restrain their hubris.

“As for myself, I never dreamt I would leave Athens. I was born there, and was sure I would die there as well. Hopefully not anytime soon but…” She trailed off, acutely aware of uneasy her own fate was. She may very well die near there tomorrow, by his own hands…

“Even now we aren’t far off the coast, yet it feels as if I’ve stepped into a new world. It’s not something I ever thought I wanted for myself. Never something I thought I could do. My place was at the temple, serving Athena. Yet, I am no longer at the temple, and she still speaks to me. Of course the Goddess is too great to be contained within stone walls.” She was rambling now, and it made her blush. What was the pull of this man, that she opened up so freely? But each word she spoke made the Dǫnsk Tunga feel less awkward on her tongue. And the sunset really was lovely this evening…

“What of your Gods? Canute seemed rather confident in their valor, yet, I’ve not once heard of their deeds.” The question was as playful as it was provoking. She would never be able to match this man with a blade, but an argument might have them on level terms.

Thorkell allowed himself a smile, hearing her quiet challenge to his Gods. How did one let such a thing stabd? You didn't. You answered it with all the strength that you could muster.
"You live too far to the south, in the security of the warmer lands. The Gods of the North stand against the darkness and giants, against those that would throw down the world, and see it burn. My Gods know that all things pass in time, from beasts, to men, to Gods. All that might remain is the legacy of our deeds. So our warriors seek an end that might be recalled in song and poem. If we meet our end gloriously, we might meet our honoured ancestors in the halls of Valhalla, and stand with the Gods int he final batttle that will rend the world." He explained without any pretense, an honest pride to his words.

"The world is larger than the Gods you worship might claim. Believe in that if nothing else. Should your visions prove accurate, then I can promise that you will see the farthest corners fo the orld. We have seen everywhere that claims itself to be a land of enlightened people. All we require is the materials to repair our ships properly. And we would sail from these lands. You would sail with us, see the burning sands of the south, the frozen North...all you would need to do is honestly swear your loyalty to us. And we would show you a world that you would never conceive of." He stopped then, looking her in the eye, knowing that she must still be weighing her odds of escape, that she must still be planning her departure, but still daring her to change her mind, her belief, to throw her support behind a new order of life.

It was hard to explain how he thought of her. Thorkell could see the strength of spirit within her, and also see the weight of what she came from on Althaea's shoulders. Every vision was nearly a betrayal to her people. but she gave the truth of them regardless, to preserve her own life. How much more would she see if she gave her visions free of coercion? That strength within her, if it was honed, adn trained, she might be a fine shield maiden,, and one that could change the course of the Northern Warriors in her Sight. But to reah such a height, she would have to want it as muchy as she wanted for her freedom.

She might not believe in the things he spoke of with such certainty, but she admired his conviction. “Even in death your people get no rest from warring?” She asked, surprised to hear such a thing. “And this pleases you? Your people really do have a taste of blood, hmm?”Still his words about showing her a world beyond Athens and Greece sound nice enough. Almost exciting, if you could get the near constant rape and death threats. At least she would never be bored.

“I have no doubt the world is a wide place, full of things even I haven’t seen. I supposed I never even considered a life outside Athens before. I am curious of these lands you speak of, and yet…”
She stopped for a moment, meeting his eyes. She opened her mouth wordlessly a few times, before she was able to speak.” Does this mean that I am bound to you…forever? As long as I live, I mean?” She tried to push down the sudden sorrow that bubbled up. Still a slave. Always a slave.

No, it didn’t have to be that way. There was a chance, tomorrow, for her to escape. For her to seek the safety of the Greek hoplites. She could return to the temple, return to the comfortable and safe live she had known for over a decade. She would be respected once more, and kept upon the fine pedestal as Seer. She would die in Athens, just as she was born there.

Still, his offer hung in the air. Terrifying, as it was exhilarating. A choice, a choice she had never been given before, a choice she wasn’t exactly being given now, but as close to one as anything else in her life. Athena would have to show her the way. A sign from upon high. Was she meant to live among these marauders, and see the world? Or was her place at the temple?

Their conversation had outlasted the setting sun, and the darkness made her feel even more vulnerable. Or was she warming up to him? It’s wasn’t so unreasonable, he was her protection here. She could even admit she appreciated the armor and weapon he had procured for her. But, it didn’t mean anything. Her virtue was the symbol of her devotion to Athena; she would not part with it willingly.

“It’s getting late, should we be getting back?”

THorkell cocked his head as he pondered her words. Was she bound to him forever? It was honestly doubtful. Though the longer he kept her, and ensured she was cared for, the better the odds would be of her remaining with him, out of simple expediency if nothing else. Still, he had to admit that there was a good chance that the issue might not be as abhorant as it might be. Curious, strong of mind, perhaps willing to learn...there were worse people that one could be forced into prozimity.

But then what must she think of him?"

A brute, a murderer, slayer of her people with no thought for what he might wreak upon the land. And all of this was true in it's own way. But he was also a warrior, a man of honour, in the manner of his people, and would sell his life for glory, and for no less.

"Aye, the thought of the last battle, and the preparing for it does please me well. I will drink, and I will feast with my honoured ancestors, meet my Gods face to face and raise a horn in salute to them before practicing my skills. ANd who knows? Great Ingavain has seen the end, and knows that many of the Gods will fall, and few humans will live, but those few will help remake the world. But who truly knows? Mayhap his vision has miscarried in some way. The valour of one may tip the scales, change the battle. We may triumph in greater ways than even they predict." Thorkell explained, a hint of pride in his words. He didn't comment as to returning, but did begin to walk, ensuring that she stayed close to him. He did not walk before her, leading her, but stayed abreast of her, looking to her, before speaking again.

"You are assigned to me, not only for your protection but because...well, you are not trusted. Being honest, were our situations reversed, woudl you hold trust in your prisoner?" He asked her, his brows raising at the statement. "And be honest with yourself. Trust takes time. Prove to us that you can be trusted. And we will give you that. ENough trust, adn we would swear you into out felag, our company. You would be one of us, an equal part in the company." He finished this last as they reached the house, and he stepped to the side to allow her to enter first, knowing that even if the jarl didn't approave, there were ways that a free man could induct another inot the company. It had been done before, adn would be again, of that he had little doubt. And besides, there were always other companies if it came to that.

“Of course you can’t trust me,” She agreed, as they stepped into the sanctuary of his house, “You killed my fellow worshippers, and desecrated my home. You would want the same thing, were you in my place.” Still, she listened to the rest of his offer, that if she could be trusted, and she could be made a part of their company of raiders and killers. She supposed it was meant to be a fair and generous offer, but she had a hard time seeing it that way.

“Tell me, Thorkell, if our places were reversed, and you were offered what you offer me, would you take it? Would you want it? To swear loyalty to those who take you hostage and threatened your life and pride? Who killed the only family you knew? Who worship foreign Gods, while taking advantage of your connection to your own? If you were me, Thorkell, would you abandon the only life you knew to join up with marauders?” She moved closer to him as she spoke, never once averting her emerald gaze from him. Their bodies were just touching as the last word left her lips.

“You want me,” She whispered, let the words hang in the air for a moment, before continuing, “because of my gift. You would use me to fulfill your own ambitions, regardless of my own desires or ambitions.” Standing this close to him, standing up to him, a man who could easily hurt or kill her had her heart racing. It was everything she could do to not shudder, to show none of the fear she felt gnawing at the pit of her stomach. She gave him a chance to answer her, before turning away.

“I should get some rest. I’ve never been on a raid before. Thank you again, for the armor and blade. Here is to hoping I live long enough to need it.” And she retreated to the room he had assigned to her. Once she was safely alone, she exhaled hard, letting all the tension of the moment escape her body.

She liked Thorkell, and she was terrified of him. He was civil, in a way she wouldn’t have expected these savages to be. And more, he was a true believe, much like herself. She could respect that. She pulled the blade he had given her, testing its weight in her hand. She practiced a few swings, getting a feel for it, before putting it away. She wasn’t sure she had it in herself to kill a man, even if he threatened her life or her body, but there was a small comfort in having at least the option at hand.

Sleeping in the armor wasn’t going to be an option, at least not tonight. She may have to learn to get comfortable in the hard leathers someday, but tonight it was unthinkable. So she unlaced it and took it off, until she was nude. It was a bit unnerving, to be so vulnerable while Thorkell was in the other room, but he had wanted to take her, neither a dress nor armor would have stopped him. She tried not to think about that, about him having his way with her, as she laid down to rest.

Thorkell heard out her request, knowing that it was about what he expected. It was still so early in her captivity after all! That she advanced on him showed that she had more courage than most thought, perhaps more than even he had thought. Even through his armour he could feel the faint touch of them, hear the slight rasp of the leather on the steel links of his armour. In the darkening night, he could still pick out her eyes, those twin points of green, like chips of emerald boring into him, almost daring him to call her on her approach. He didn't see that as needed, but neither did he give an inch, his weight shifting slightly, bringing them into closer contact, having to look down to maintain her gaze.

"Would I take the chance that Fate had dealt me? Yes. I would leave behind that prison you called a temple, and run, run fast and far enough until I could taste the glory in the air. I would fight to have a life that is decided by no will but my own." He told her with some fervour, some fire, honesty in his tone. "Be honest with not only me, but yourself. If you were sent back to them, would they do anything but lock you away in larger, more secure prison?" He left the question hanging in the air. They both stepped back at the same instant, the contact breaking away.

"Keep them close. Thunir willing you'll not need them." He said, realizing his voice was a little on edge. There had been a temptation in that proximity, that aggression that she'd shown. Her walking away gave him a moment to piece out his own mindset. She had courage, adn that was to be rewarded amongst his people. She was still rather slight compared to him, and he knew that there was a moment that he had considered simply pushing her to the wall, and starting something there. But he knew that there was no way she would have acquiesced to such a thing. Taking the spoils of war was a time honoured tradition among his people, and he was not immune to such. On the other hand Althaea needed some reason to perhaps try and start to trust his people. And he was not going to be the reason that she failed to have one.

He sank back into his chair, settling in, and making the note that he was going to have to see about getting more sleeping locations in here. He let himself still, preparing to drift off again, when he heard the faint sounds of leather moving on skin. His eyes opened again. He had to blink, realizing that Althaea must not have been ready or able to sleep int eh armour, which left her...

He banished the thought from his mind. Not something he was going to be pursuing right now. It only led him down that same path. He let his eye close again.

Morning dawned, and he was awake far earlier than he had been the night before. He was checking his gear. He would do so again when they made landfall, but he needed to be certain. He ran a cloth lightly coated in oil along the blade of his heavy axe, making sure that it was free of any rust. He set the edge again, killing sharp now. His shield was nearly as large as the hoplons favoured byt he Greeks, but instead of wodd and bronze, it was plated in iron, and the central boss was a smooth, polished stone. The shield had been in his family for more than five generations, and the stories told that it had been a prize of battle, taken from a jotan. Thorkell couldn't vouch for that, but it had saved his life more than he cared to admit. The only drawback was that it was heavy, making it a little less agile than a lighter one might be. Still, any time he'd struck a man with the shield they had failed to rise again. A fine trade.

He stood up, shouldering his pack, the preserved meat and fish that would sustain him on the trip, his bed roll tightly wound atop it. His sapre weapons, and a kit to care for his gear. He was as ready as he'd ever be. He came close to the room Altaea was asleep in, and rapped the wall with his shield boss, the heavy clunk filling the air.
"Rise Seer. We've places to be, and you'll want to eat before we leave. It might the last chance for a hot meal in some time." He informed her, not looking into the room, giving her that privacy, dignity even. He somehow doubted she'd accept the argument that he hadn't known she'd be in such a state of undress.

She dreamt was at sea. Clad in her leather armor, blade at her side, while the salty winds caressed her bare skin. Her blonde hair wavy from the sea air. She felt alive, aboard that ship, no longer confined to her prison of a temple. Athena’s reach touched every inch of the world, and she would see it all.

“Where to, Seer?” It was Thorkells voice called to her, and as she turned towards him, she found she was happy to see him.

“To the West. There are lands of verdant forests, overflowing with wild game. It will be ours.” She declared, eyes warm with pride and excitement as she met his.

“Rise Seer. We've places to be, and you'll want to eat before we leave. It might the last chance for a hot meal in some time."

His statement confused her for a moment, not quite making sense in the context of the dream, until she realized it was not his dream counterpart who had said it. Her eyes fluttered open, as she made sense of her surroundings, and remembered her captivity among the Vikings.

“I’ll be right there,” She called, noting that he had not peaked in on her. Another point in favor of his respectful nature. She dressed in her armor, meeting him in the hallway once she had done all she could on her own. “Would you lace me up?” She asked, turning to reveal her back, hair pulled off to the side to give him access. Once she was securing in her armor, she followed him to have her last warm meal before leaving.

Along the walk there, the dream was fresh in her mind, and how Thorkell had played so prominently in it. It meant nothing, just her mind exploring the possibilities he had offered the night before. It wasn’t a prophetic dream, or at least she tried to tell herself it wasn’t in any case. It was just a way for her mind make sense of his proposal, and the growing fondness she felt for him, merely borne out of the kindness he had since shown her. There was something about him, some magnetism that drew her in, but she would not let herself be pulled from her purpose in serving Athena.

So she distracted herself with food, eating her fill before it was time to leave. She still had to survive the day before she could being planning for any sort of future.

THorkell waited until she emerged, not thinking anything of the moment until she requested him to lace her armour. There was an ungenerous comment about how he might prefer to unlace her, but he held his tongue. It was a day of personal growth for him really. He was finally keeping a reign on his actions, in ways that he had rarely done before. But he was not just a warrior now, he was a warden, a guardian, and this required things of him. His hands knew the task very well, having laced up many a warrior in his time. Althaea may not have been such, but he had an instinct that perhaps she might be one in time, should she possess the will to learn it. He secured in her only a moment, tying her laces off, and his hand unconciously patting her shoudler to acknowledge that she was prepared to the day.

Food was plentiful, the jarl making a great deal available to the warriors that sailed, knowing that they would want to make sure they feasted well before the sailed. A full stomach was a boon on the journey. Cold meals ont he run would rapidly be the norm. Thorkell was counting warriors in the hall, seeing who had been sent with him, who he would need to watch, and who he could trust. Many were old shipmates to him, the core of the company was on the march once more. There were more this time than the last raid. A full ship this time, a long hundred of warriors.

Some warriors prepared their axes, their swords, a few checked their shields. A few made their hair ready with braids to keep it out of the way. A team of shield maidens worked on one another, getting their long hair braided and piled onto their heads before they set their helms in place. All was made ready. Thorkell stood, and simply shrugged his pack into place, draining his horn of mead, and people began to empty the hall. Thorkell nodded to Althaea, and they brought up the rear, heading down the walkway until the ship was clearly visible. Warriors piled their gear in the middle of the ship, most of them moving to seat themselves at the oar benches. Thorkell was the last to board, and despite only having returned recently, he felt his heart quicken at the thought of being ont he sea once more. Salt in the blood.

THe crew knew their business, and it wasn't long before they were underway. The ship lurched into better motion as the sail caught the wind, pulling it along, and the warriors racked oars to alolow the ship to carry them. Thorkell was standing not far from Althaea, and let hismelf smile, takinga deep breath of the warm, salty air. This was his freedom. And he treasured that moment.

Looking over at the man she had come to see as a guardian, the exhilaration plainly evident on his face. She might not have shared his passion, but it was contagious, exuding from his proud form. Being around him like this, it was easy to forget how her fate was in his hands. Despite the origins of their introduction to one another, he seemed to want her to like him, or at least trust him to an extent. Surely it was just because of her gift, and the value he could obtain through it.

Still, memories of her dream returned unbidden, combined with the feel of his chest pressed against her body last evening, as neither of them would stand down and admit submission. She remembered being relieved and disappointed that nothing further had happened, not that she would ever give voice to such thoughts. Never had a Greek man stirred her interest, not her fellow priests, nor the nobles of the city. Fellow priest might have shared her faith, but none of her devotion or zeal. Nobles paid lip service to her talents, using her when needed, only to return her to the comfortable prison they constructed for her.

She braided her own hair, a mindless task for her hands to busy themselves with as she further considered her previous desire to escape captivity. Thorkell had challenged her to pick a path of her own choosing, breaking away from the prison of the temple. And yet, a life among the Vikings was no choice of her own. She was just as much a prisoner among them as she was in Athens, only without the comforts or safety. She liked Thorkell well enough, for the kindness he had shown her, but would she have followed him of her own volition?

She built up the courage to speak to the women amongst the group, the shield maidens. They seemed dismissive of her at first, a woman who had allowed herself to be captured, not even injuring her assailant in the process. Still they were willing to talk about their faith, opening up as they described the Valkyries, the female servants of the gods who bore the fallen warriors to Valhalla. This was the reason that any woman who could carry her own weight was allowed to join in the war band. They even relayed the tale of Sif, a sibyl like herself, who ascended to Godhood when Thor choose her for his bride. The tales lasted until they drew close to land once more.

Thorkell saw that Althaea was mingling with the Shield Maidens was a good thing as far as he was concerned. Her association with them would give her a little insulation from the baser impulses of the band. And besides, it would be better for her to know more of the band that she woudl be travelling with. It was easier to hate a people when they had no face or name, just lust and aggression. THe band settled into the routine they knew well. The sun beat down on them for part of the trip, but soon enough the sun was beginning it's retreat. It was twilight when land came into view. Thorkell barked out his orders. The sail was reefed,adn the oars swung out, and the ship ran itself aground before too long.

Warriors were piling over the sides of the ship, packs held high to keep them dry as they splashed in the shallows. Thorkell landed readily, smiling as he did so, slinging his shield onto his back. It was a fairly large drop from the ship, and he looked up to where he saw the Shield Madiens disembarking with the same practiced ease that the men did. Thorkell smiled, adn stepped closer to the location, looking up at Althaea.
"Jump. I've got you." He told her with no other inflection to his voice other than honesty. "Unless you'd rather try your luck here?" He waved back at the ship. Twenty men were preparing to back the ship off of the land for safety, and most of them grinned at the thought of her staying behind. One of them only smiled and winked at her, though with less lust and malice and more of a sense of playful amusement.

Althaea looked over the edge of the ship, feeling her courage leave her. How would these warriors react to the knowledge that she Couldn’t swim? It was no fault of her own, slave weren’t given much chance to partake in such leisure activities, and priestess even less so. Still, it was clear the water wasn’t so deep, maybe waist high on her frame. Thorkell seemed to sense her concern, offering to help her down.

She looked back at the men who had stay behind, and while they weren’t threatening, it wasn’t terribly inviting either. No, if there was any freedom for her, it wasn’t on this ship. It was either by Thorkell’s side, or back under the protection of Greek hoplites. With a deep breath, she summoned her courage, meeting Thorkell’s eyes.

She jumped into his arms, impressed by how easily he caught her. She slid against him, as he put her down, and she shuddered at the feeling of his hard body against her soft one. She tried to play it off as if she were cold form the water, not disentangling from him immediately as her feet hit the ground. Standing in the waist high water, her soft hands still on his firm arms had her briefly wondering if she would have indeed been safer on the ship.

“Thanks. I am guess this is still the easy part huh?” She teased, trying to break the tension of how much she liked his arms around her. She looked around the war band marching, and followed along, keeping pace as best she could.

It still shocked him at how light she was. The years int eh temple hadn't done much to harden her form for the life that she was now a part of. But that would actually change, it had to, else she'd simply die on the move. The softness of her touch on his arms was an interesting feeling. He hadn't considered how her touch might be, how light it could be, he'd always expected any contact between them to be violent in some way or another. The contact on his arms, it was a hair too long to go unnoticed, to be written off, and there was a single moment of their gaze meeting that made him wonder about her thought process. Then they were ont he move, the ship backing off and setting itself out of any bowshot fromt eh shore, and dropping anchor. They woudl wait untilt he band returned, or until they reached the limits of their supplies and had to make for home.

The band assembled, adn Thorkell smiled as they quickly knelt, and Canute stepped forward, a chalice chased with silver held high.
"Mighty Njord, we thank you for your aid in our crossing. And to you, fierce Aegir, we offer this libation for your permission to cross your waters." Canute poured out the chalice ontot he beach sands, and every warrior gave a single guttural roll of sound, a wordless acknowledgement of what had been said. Then they were standing and beginnging to move at a light jog. There was ground to cover. One of the shield maidens dropped in beside Althaea, giving her a grin.
"Come on then! Don't fall behind!" The woman gave a bark of laughter adn set off at a sprint to take point int he band. Aside from some laughter, no one sought to gainsay her. Thorkell kept himself close enough to Althaea that she would be able to maintain sight of him. But they had a long trip ahead of them, having to sweep wide, adn then pillage and burn their way back to the ship. But the job needed doing, and they were the ones to do it.

Althaea watched stoically as they gave praise to their foreign God for the safe journey. Althaea offered her own silent prayers to Poseidon, knowing who are really responsible for safe trip, and more importantly, know better that to garner the wrath of the God of the Sea. Especially if traveling the world upon it was in her future. She decided then that if this raid was successful, and she decided to remain among the Vikings, she would insist upon a proper tribute to Athena. If they were going to use her gifts, they would honor the Goddess who gifted them.

Once it was time to move, Althaea did her best to keep up with the group, but she was out of her element here. While the slave girl she once was might have been able to maintain this level of exertion without much trouble, a decade at the temple had left her soft. Still she pushed herself, refusing to prove them right about the weakness of the Greeks. She was representing her entire people to the Vikings, and while it was a hell of a burden to carry, she didn’t let it slow her down. She had carried the burden of her gifts this far, she could carry it all a bit further.

They circuit was a wide loop. They had landed reasonably close to the city, risking being seen, but trusting in their own skills to avoid confrontation. The pace was not brutal, but it didn't leave much room for error. They had a specific place to be before the sun came up. A hundred warriors with a seer in tow would bound to be noticed. But their employer had been good enough to provide them with a half decent map of the area, giving them a place to wait out the day. It would be better to hit at night anyway, forcing the Greeks to rouse themselves to try and repel them. Several of the warriors wqere getting winded when they came to the nest of foothills that was their destination, just as dawn was starting to break.

"There!" The shield maiden that had ran ahead called, pointing ahead of her, still leading the pack, not showing any sign of her run. Thorkell halfheartedly cursed her for such, but loud enough she heard him. She flashed him a ready grin, but led them to what looked like a cave entrance. The war band filed into it quickly, Thorkell counting each person as they entered. All accounted for. He nodded to Altaea, part of him impressed that she had kept up. There had been a thought of having someone carry her, even doing it himself if it came to that. But she'd beaten his expectations.
"Well done." he said to her with a nod, clapping her gently on the shoulder as she passed him. "Rest some. There will be food soon." He looked out at the landscape, already feelign the rising heat of the day coming, he head within the cave.

A few lamps were lit, small ones that they had picked up during their time in these lands. They cast precious little light, which was precisely the point as far as Thorkell was concerned. It was light enough for the band to move around in, and not trip over one another, but they were far enough in, and th light was low. The was a moment of activity, and a muffled punch that brought Thorkell striding forward to teh back of the cave. It went back a long way, far more than he expected. You could house a group five times the size of his own in here comfortably. He found a few of his men standing over a kneeling Greek girl, her hair hanging over her face as she wept, swords on her shoulders, and low chuckles coming from the men.

"What do we have here?" Thorkell asked.
"Shepherdess. Small flock, only five sheep. Your order?" A man asked. Thorkell sighed. This would be a problem, and he knew what the men wanted. He stepped over to the girl, his hands closing on her head. The men looked a little surprised, knowing what was coming. Thorkell snapped her neck with a single motion. He laid her out on the floor.
"We're not risking the noise. This is not a trip for our entertainment. This is a job. We need to keep our minds on that. If she was here, is there a hearth?"
"Aye, open one. Coals on it."
"Kill the sheep, see if there's a cauldron. If there is, make stew enough for us all. We'll get one last hot meal before we go to work." There was a small chorus of acknowledgements. Thorkell went to find Althaea. It didn't take long, and he had no doubt she knew what had gone on.

"One of the women of your nation is dead. Says what prayers are needed over her. It's all anyone can do now." He stepped past her, adn found a rock to sit on, leaning against the wall, and letting his pack fall beside him.

The trek was difficult, and there were times where Althaea didn’t think she could keep up. Muscles she rarely used burned and her lungs felt as if they could have burst. But she had kept, well enough at least, and she was rewarded with kind words and a hand on her shoulder. His praise made her warm, reflected as pink crawl over her face, thankfully mostly hidden by the shadows of the cave. More and more the prospect of stay with him, joining the company appealed to her.

The feeling wouldn’t last, however. A peculiar sound caught Thorkell’s attention, and she followed close behind as he made his way towards the back end of the cave. Her eyes widened as she saw the girl, and her heart dropped in her chest. She couldn’t even speak, just swallowed hard. Thorkell’s hands held the girls face, for a just a moment, before the crunch of broken bones reverberated throughout the cave. The girl’s body was limp, and Althaea just stared at her, not quite believing what she had seen.

Thorkell was her protector. The man who had seen her equipped with armor and weapon for her safety. The man who invited her in earnest to join up with them, and promised to show her the world. A man who gave her privacy and respect within his own home. A man she had come to see in a different light, a man she could almost admire to admiring, in some sense. And yet, he was still a killer. A savage, a heathen, a barbarian monster. Would that be her, if her visions did not come to pass? Thorkell’s rough hands, caressing her face, in the few moments before he ends it. Would it be as quick as the shepherdess, or would he give her over to the men, to sate their denied lusts?

Perhaps it was a mercy. She was but one woman, and there were…She quickly scanned the cave. There were enough men here that the math on that equation was horrifying. Perhaps it was better for Althaea’s own sanity that she didn’t have to witness it, the violation these men were more than capable of. Death was inevitable outcome for the girl, no reason to drag it out more than necessary. Despite the logic of Thorkell’s decision, it left a bad taste in her mouth.

She dropped to her knees as Thorkell gave her permission to tend to the girl, to see to it that her soul made it home. The shocked look was frozen in her dead eyes, telling the terrible tale of her last few moments. She was Althaea’s age, or even a touch younger, and the thought summoned hot tears to her eyes. Crying over the girl’s death was not going to win her any favors from the marauders, so she held them back as well as she could, thankful that few were paying her any mind.

She cleaned the body as well as she could with the limited water that could be spared. “I don’t suppose anyone has a coin on them? Or some small token?” She asked Thorkell, hardly able to meet his eyes. “Considerate it payment for the sheep.” Someone was able to produce something, and she put it on the girls’ lips. She sang the dirges in a soft, somber voice, letting a few tears fall now. It wasn’t a proper prosthesis, but someone had to mourn the girls’ death. No need for her soul to go to the wrong place because she died among heathen savages.

“She should be burned, since I doubt you are going to do the honorable thing and bury her.” Althaea explained, wiping the tears from her eyes as she finished. She should have had three days of mourning, but she wouldn’t even get one. The shepherdess left that morning, and would never return home, her body would never be found, her kin would never know her fate. Althaea did what she could, but she knew this was a poor omen. This was the sign from the gods that travelling with barbarians was not her fate. She would have to escape, somehow.

Thorkell saw that it had been their ever eager shield maiden that gave up the coin for the fallen. And it was even one of the local Athenian currency, though he wasn't sure that it mattered. He heard Althaea's words, didn't blame ehr for the assumption, but he knew that on some level, perhaps he owed her that? Then again he didn't have to let her give the rites. Still, there were a lot of idle men. Work would be good. Thorkell stood, adn paced around the cave. Sure enough, one wall was not stone, but earth. It was likely that the caves hadn't been this large originally.
"Hrothmund! Bring one of your men!" He called. Two warriors jogged to Thorkell. "I want out rtacks covered. We may need this place again in the future."
"Aye, what did you have in mind?" Hrothmund asked.
"Dig into the wall, but don't bury us. Bury the remains from the sheep and the woman. Better she vanishes than shows up dead."
"Aye. Let's get to it." Hrothmund had worked for years on farms, digging ditches and the like. He was the best in the band at sapping work, and he knew how to make sure the cave walls didn't come down on them. His companion took one of the newly made hides from a sheep, and set the dead shepherdess on it, dragging her to the wall. Earth was knocked loose, burying her under it, and Hrothmund shored it up, blending it into the wall, hiding her from sight.

Thorkell walked past Althaea, and muttered in his broken Greek.
"All that can be done for her." He intoned quietly. Thorkell sank back into a sitting position.

"We show burial customs to Greek whores now?" One of the men grumbled. Thorkell didn't even bat an eye.
"You want her spirit haunting us?" He asked. There was a pause. "It's what happens in this land. Ask the priestess, she'll tell you." Thorkell countered. The man looked to Altaea.

"Is...is it true? If your dead are not interned, do they haunt their killers?" He asked her, a twinge of actual fear in his voice.

Althaea hadn’t expected Thorkell to care about her concerns in regards to the shepherdess. She didn’t even think he would have allowed the burning of the body, but he instead ordered it to be buried. Of course his reasoning about not leaving any tracks, or having a body turn up was perfectly salient, but Althaea wondered if it weren’t some small concession to her. A respect for her culture and customs, a respect for her feelings. The more time she spent around him, then more he surprised her.

“Thank you,” she murmured in Greek, choking ever so slightly on the words. It was a small dignity, and she found that she needed these, now. But it also challenged her conviction in trying to escape captivity. Some harsh words from the Vikings grabbed her attention from her thoughts, left her visibly tensing from the insult lobbied. Once more, Thorkell came through for her, fabricating a lie to save face, and respect her traditions. The man turned towards her, and asked about the truth of Thorkell’s assertion.

“Aye, that’s the truth of it,” Althaea explained, meeting his eyes so he would know she wasn’t lying. “If that girl’s spirit doesn’t make it to Asphodel, she will have to come back. “ Althaea began, only exaggerating a little. Catching the horror in his eyes, she continued, “As I understand, the Valkyries will only take your soul if you fall in battle. If you die here, in foreign lands, not as a warrior? Hades will have you. And with the things you all have done since you came here…?” She shuddered, putting on a bit of show.

“What would become of us?” The man prodded, clearly drawn into her tale.

“Don’t…don’t make me say it,” She started, eyes on the ground. Slowly she brought her eyes up to meet his, and in a hushed tone she answered, “Tartarus. Your souls will spend eternity in Tartarus, where your punishment will fit your crimes.”

The scent of lamb stew filled the cavern now, as it was passed out. Althaea wasn’t terribly hungry, or, that is to say, her appetite had been spirited away by the killing of the shepherdess. But she still took a small bowl, forcing herself to eat, knowing she had to kept her strength up to stay with the Marauders. Had to keep her strength up if she wanted to see through her chance at escaping.

Thorkell had to put forth a great deal of effort to avoid smiling at how well Althaea wove the horror of dying in this foreign land. It was liable to scar the mind of man in his band, but that was fine by Thorkell. A little fear might put the common sense that the Gods granted a stone, which had thus far been elusive for the warrior. Effective to say the least. When the stew was being passed around, Thorkell took his readily. It was an unexpected treat to be honest. He tasted the flavour of salt, and that let him know that Beorg would have been at the cauldron. He was the one who oversaw most of the food that was prepared on campaign, purely out of self motivation, he hated shoddy meals.

Thorkell had to wonder is Althaea ate because of a desire to keep up, or if she saw this whole raid as an opportunity to flee. Keeping an eye on her was already a requirement, keeping her safe was going to be a challenge, both from her own people and his. There were very few he could count on for this. Still, there were a few dedicated scouts that were watching the entrance, making sure no one got in or out of the cave without permission. Warriors were dropping to the ground everywhere, all of them wanting to get what sleep they could. The return trip was to start just before sundown, and was goign to be slower going, as there was work to do. But it was going to be much much harder to do.
"Rest where you please." He said to Althaea as he passed her. She was a smart woman, he was fairly sure that she wouldn't take any chances if she could avoiud it.

Thorkell found a space near the wall, far enough away from the coal fire that he could rest comfortably. His shield was leaning against the wall, the face of it to the stone, letting him be able to grasp it in an instant if needed. His axe leaned beside it. Massive and deadly, it gleamed in the dull, reddish light of the fire coals. Thorkell looked around the room, taking in everything, adn then letting his eyes close. Rest for now. Work when he rose.

The lamb stew was better than expected. Once she started eating, any residual uneasiness faded away in favor of hunger gnawing at her gut. The night long march had been difficult for the inexperienced priestess, had taken far more energy than she was used to exerting. Once she had her fill, exhaustion began to catch up to her. Physically worn from the trek, emotionally drained from witnessing the death of her countrywoman, the death of a girl younger than her, whose fate she may indeed follow in the couple few days.

Thorkell’s suggestion to get some rest was more than welcome. She scanned the cave for a spot to lie down, watching as most of the men did the same. Not all though, and the realization made her nervous. Nervous that they might seek to relieve the lust that had been frustrated by the death of the shepherdess. So she took a spot near Thorkell, hoping that proximity to him would deter anyone with perverse designs upon her. Settling down near him, but no so close they were touching.

Still, even as tired as she was, her armor was uncomfortable to sleep in, hard to find a position that allowed her to relax enough. Hard to ignore the way the leather dug into her hips, or chaffed her arms. She would rest in a position for a while, determined to disregard the little discomforts, until it irked at her, and she tried to find a different position. This lasted for some time, tossing and turning, trying not to disturb anyone around her. Her leg brushed against his as she squirmed, and the immediate response was that she should move it. But his warm felt nice, and he was asleep already, and it didn’t seem to bother him. So she moved a little closer to him, her body just touching his, and found it was much easier to settle into slumber then.

Thorkell continued to feature heavily in her dreams this day. Their bodies pressed into each other’s. Soft and hard, almost perfect opposites of one another. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that seemed to see into her soul, eyes filled with loss and longing and regret. Calloused hands cradled her face, rough thumbs playing over her cheeks. His touch was gentle, yet foreboding and she felt the strength in his grasp as he twisted her head against her neck. She sat up with a gasp, sweating beading on her skin. It was just a dream, just a nightmare to make sense of the things she had seen this day. Or it was a warning from the Gods, to get as far away from this man as possible.

Looking over, he was still asleep, not disturbed by her sudden wakefulness. It wasn’t even clear if he sense her closeness at all. The day was hot by now, perhaps noon, or a little after. Most people were still sleep, and no one took notice of her outburst. She lied back down, breathing deep to calm her racing heart. Despite the terror of the dream, it was easier to fall back to sleep, Thorkell’s low, even breathing putting her at ease.