Chapter Text
You awoke suddenly from the tickle of cold air swept in through the cracks between the barn; such is life on a cold winter morning. You got up slowly but surely, your back aching and cramping from sleeping on scratchy bales of hay.
Sluggishly, you peered outside through the wooden slits and ended up just about blinding yourself during such an attempt. The unforgiving winter sunrise was already making an appearance — was it really morning already? Given how poorly you slept and how tired your body still felt, you cursed at the gods for not blessing you with a restful night.
Still, you had to get up, lest be punished for it. You couldn’t afford to lose any more time, at least not before your masters’ awaken and notice that you have been sleeping in, wasting precious hours of the day. While they were usually not so cruel, they only treated you the best when you were the most efficient.
Your first task at hand was to prepare breakfast for the family. You weren’t looking too forward to it since the family tended to ridicule your cooking abilities. It wasn’t your fault though; you had just come from a different taste palette that had been different from your own home. The Danes simply had a different taste than all — they didn’t care for things like pottage, barley porridge and cabbage stew. They seemed to prefer various meat dishes instead, in fact, more meat than there seemed to be available, but they somehow made do.
Still, you carried on.
The masters’ had two young children who enjoyed being picky about just about everything, so it didn’t quite matter what you did regardless.
Taking a step outside, you found yourself rubbing your hands against your arms as the harsh wind attacked your skins. The few sheepskin hides they kept in the main house were for the family only to use. If you had complained about the cold, they simply told you to work yourself warm instead.
Upon entering the kitchen, you were surprised to find that they were already awake. At least the mother, Estrid and her two boys, Knud and Trygve. The mother in question looked quite thankful to see you enter, knowing that you would have no choice but to take on the mental load of raising her children for the day. The sons were also just fine and seemed to listen to you more than their own parents.
It was the father, Sten, who didn’t seem to enjoy the company of his own family, let alone you.
“Our waking hours seem to align today.” Estrid opened up in a very neutral tone. Her voice was tired and hoarse, as though she had been crying.
“Seems so.” You replied.
Overall, you liked Estrid. She wasn’t awful. You had heard of slave masters who beat their slaves without conviction and just because it was something to be expected. In the earlier days, you experienced lashes for not being so skilled as a worker, but you quickly learned to keep up. At least you had to be thankful that the family that could have bought you, might have been much more cruel and unforgiving.
Estrid at the very least seemed to humour you with conversation.
“What shall you be preparing this morning?” She asked, her hand clutching onto her stomach as though she was starved.
“It’s yet another cold morning, so I shall be cooking up barley porridge with goat milk and honey.” You explained to her as you lugged the sacks of grain from the floor, measuring out the right amount of grain.
“Again? ” Complained one of the elder sons. “We had that yesterday.”
“Knud.” Estrid warned him. “She only makes use of what we have.”
“Well, then why can’t we have better food?” He responded in a temper, his arms folding as he sunk into the bench.
“It is winter.” Estrid tried to explain in an educational manner. Her sons should be learning after all how to take after the farm. “Food is not as abundant as it during the warmer seasons.”
You passively listened in on the bickering of the boys and their all too patient mother who at this point had been raising her voice as you worked on preparing their morning feast. You paced quickly back and forth, in and out through the home as you gathered ingredients from the cellar and retrieved fresh goats’ milk from the farmhands, all the while rushing to stir the pot lest it burned at the bottom.
Eventually though, you had a thick and creamy porridge that you spooned into hand-carved wooden bowls, topping the gruel with a drizzle of honey to add a warm sweetness before serving it to the family that by this point, impatiently awaited for something hearty to fill their bellies.
As they scarfed down their meal, you went to work on the farm. You didn’t have time to eat just yet and such a luxury was only accessible once you had completed your duties for the day. Luckily on colder days like this, the responsibilities were relatively simple and mostly involved animal maintenance and keeping the cropland clear from any sticks and rocks. In the spring and summer, it was a little busier and you tended to the crops as well.
And upon finishing up your tasks for the morning, you headed back into the barn to hopefully relax somewhat. You technically could get away with retiring until the evening since you weren’t needed until dinnertime and for putting the children to bed.
But then you heard Estrid’s voice call out to you and you realised that you had no choice but to investigate. You didn’t have the luxury to ignore her, for she was your master and it was your duty to serve.
“I’m here.” You called back, your feet eventually finding their way to her. Although, it wasn’t without some reluctance, as you were actually quite exhausted from the night before. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if you actually had a good night’s sleep, but it’s too late to ponder on such things at this point in the day. All you could do was keep your eyes open, do as you’re told and then hopefully sleep better tonight.
“There you are.” She greeted you with a curt smile, not allowing it to linger. “Master Sten was not pleased by the porridge, it seems. He called it slop.”
“I apologise. Should I make something different that suits his tastes?” You offered instead. You had some basic understanding that he preferred meat-based dishes, but the amount of animals on the farm this winter were scarce and needed to survive in order to bear offspring next year.
“You can make it up for dinner.” She proposed instead. “He’s given me permission to take you into the town today, so that we can perhaps trade for something more sustainable.”
“Oh I see.” You passively accepted. You found it strange as to how she had worded it. Despite being a master to you, she still required permission to do things by herself.
“Shall we?” She announced, gesturing at the sheepskin hides and dried herb bunches that lay on the ground next to her.
You took this as an invitation to pick up the goods and carry them after her as she led the way. You wondered about the boys and what they’re up to, but they likely had arrangements made with their father if Estrid was free to do this with you. You felt a bit thankful that the supplies weren’t too heavy to carry this time round, since there had been times when you were forced to lug around timber as well as pots and pans for trade.
You did wonder as to why the family was avoiding using silver and came to the conclusion that they were perhaps struggling during this particular winter. You considered the possibility that Sten hadn’t even tasted the porridge yet to begin with and that this was all Estrid’s doing.
“Almost there, worry not.” Estrid soothed as she noticed you struggling to keep up with her leading pace, but thankfully you could already both see and hear the marketplace she was leading you towards.
Upon entering the area, you immediately noticed just how much warmer it was. Many of the stalls were pushed so close together and the amount of people were plentiful, that the cold air had been successfully blocked out of reach. Perhaps this was better than shivering in the barn, indeed.
You followed Estrid around the stalls as she struggled to haggle her own goods in exchange for meat, defeatedly accepting the less than desirable cuts from unfavourable livestock like chicken and pigs. The truly wealthy bartered for goose, cow and deer.
As you drifted along beside her, your ears were suddenly filled with the chatter and roaring laughter erupting from the inner parts of the town. The voices were loud and their presence was clear. They were the voices of men, their accents varying greatly from one another, but the casual nature of their conversations seemed to imply that nobody minded.
And then you finally saw them.
At first you thought that they were a part of the King’s army due to how decorated and armoured they were, but they didn’t quite seem to be the type that the King would employ. In your limited time spent in the Kingdom of Denmark, you had some idea that the King’s actual men were much more refined and certainly wouldn’t be caught in areas such as this where the commoners lived.
The men in question seemed to be led by a blond man in command; his stature tall, bold and confident. He walked with a curious smirk and eyes that seemed to wander. He wore brazen armour and flaunted trinkets that seemed to clash in their origins, so you were left wondering where exactly he plundered those items from.
“Continue to haggle.” Estrid instructed you, bringing you back down to earth. She then took half of the remaining supply and went to barter in other corners of the market, leaving you by the dried goods stall.
You entertained the idea of escape right at this moment, the busy crowd was plentiful and you blended right in. But then you chose not to. Your life wasn’t particularly that awful with the family and you had nowhere else left to go.
Instead, you proceeded to barter by yourself, trying your best to up-sell the hides in question, promising the women behind the stalls that yes, indeed, these are the finest sheepskin, suitable for this cold and unforgiving winter, that with the fur wrapped around their shoulders, it would even feel as though summer is with them! And of course, you couldn’t leave out just how beautiful it looked around them, surely worthy of a generous supply of dried fish and meat.
Bartering was a skill you picked up from the family. Back home, your father handled everything for you.
You then felt a rough hand squeeze the back of your shoulder, startling you in the process and causing you to drop the hides to the muddy grass, covering them in dirt and dust. You cursed at yourself internally for being so clumsy and hoped that Estrid would lay off the lashings for potentially dirtying their only form of currency during these complex times.
Quickly dropping to the ground at your knees, you gathered the furs and the herbs, brushing them clean and hoping that nobody saw your misfortune. At least hopefully not Estrid.
Turning around to apologise to the person you forced to wait, you found yourself gasping at the sight before you. It appeared to be the blond man from before? The one who led the band of vikings through the town. Up close, he looked much more intimidating and you felt afraid to be within his company. Instinctively, almost, you tried to excuse yourself and search for Estrid instead, hoping that she would save you from what could be a terrible situation.
But then you felt the grip of his hand tighten and you quickly understood that you weren’t able to simply leave.
“Tell me.” He said with a smug smile. “Where is it that your accent is from?”
Was this potentially very dangerous man really standing here before you, a commoner, a slave, asking you such an out of pocket question? What business does he have to ask you where you’re from? Nobody you’ve met has cared to such an extent so far, anyway.
“It’s Welsh.” You replied to humour him.
You hadn’t heard yourself say that for so long, you realised. The last time you had to tell someone about your origins was from the day they were interested in purchasing you. Realising also, that he perhaps could be interested in something similar, you tried to withdraw with more force so that he didn’t get the wrong idea.
“And why is it that someone from Wales is living here in the land of the Danes?” He asked you, his tone implying mockery. “Perhaps you are a slave? But then, what is a slave doing walking around on her own?”
“My master is with me. I am simply helping her with a trade.” You promptly replied. You wanted to make it clear that this interaction wasn’t welcome, but you still respected that the man before you wasn’t a reasonable person. After all, vikings weren’t exactly known to be apt conversationalists.
“And where might she be?” He continued to grill you, looking around for Estrid as though he had the faintest idea of what she might look like.
“Well, if you let me go, I can have the two of you acquainted if that is something you so desire.” You offered, hoping your tone wasn’t too hostile. You had a bad habit of slipping up in front of strangers that you weren’t particularly fond of, but that’s also supposedly your selling point, since the family that had bought you liked that you were capable of carrying yourself well.
“Do so, then.” He said, letting go of your shoulder as a devilish smug formed on his face. It was clear that he was getting a kick out of this.
Looking around the marketplace with some desperation, you called out to Estrid, hoping to be freed from this strange interaction you had found yourself trapped within and then felt relief sweep over you once you had finally spotted her.
“Estrid!” You called out, feeling a little uncomfortable referring to her by her first name. It was agreed early on that if you are ever in trouble, that you can use her name and she would respond as swiftly as she is able to.
And in trouble, was something you absolutely were.
Her eyes then locked with yours and drifted over to the mysterious blond man and then back to you, her eyebrows furrowing in angry concern. You felt a little intimidated as she stormed over to you.
“Is there a problem?” Estrid asked the man, her voice cracking upon realisation that this is no commoner.
“How much?” The man then asked her, seeming confident with his words.
“Excuse me?” she replied, her eyes darting between meeting yours and his with concern.
“For her.” He replied, pointing at you with a wink.
You gasped in realisation. You didn’t want to be sold off to such a brute, not if you could help it anyway! You were indifferent before to your current housing situation but it seemed luxurious when compared to sharing a common space between a band of vikings.
“She is not for sale.” Estrid replied with some force, taking hold of your wrist and pulling you back behind her.
Did she feel… protective of you? Or perhaps, were you more valuable than you had originally thought? You were at the least adequate in the work you put in for the family and wondered if they felt they got lucky with their choice.
“Five silver? Eight?” He offered. “Or rather, what are you trying to buy here? I’ll cover it for you and then some more.”
“Askeladd…” A man with brown hair emerged seemingly out of nowhere with a curiously mean look on his face. “Why bother with a slave?”
“It could be useful to have someone who is Welsh with us on our travels.” He replied. “And also, this one is quite comely it seems.”
“Still, a slave would only burden us.” The man reminded him. You felt inclined to agree with him.
“What is your profession?” The man you now knew was called Askeladd replied. His gaze completely avoiding Estrid’s.
“I’m just a caretaker of a farm.” You replied neutrally, feeling the grip of Estrid’s hand tighten against you. She tried pushing you back further and stepped back herself, but this only invited the two men to close in on her.
“Not your duties as a slave.” He dismissed, seeming annoyed with your response. “What did you do before you came here?”
“I was the blacksmith’s daughter. My mother had been teaching me herbalism, though.” You replied, wondering it was that you were entertaining him with responses.
“How did someone like you end up here?” He asked.
“My father and I were travelling through England and got caught in a raid.” You replied again.
“And you can forge as well as fix weapons?” He enquired with some enthusiasm. You wondered if you should have lied instead. “Are you then also familiar with treating wounds?”
That’s the one that surprised you, though. Many saw herbalism as the pointless study of plants and their properties. Very few people knew that they could be used to heal, and although you never applied your knowledge to the battlefield, you knew somewhat about treating simple wounds from the dangers of a working life.
“A little. I haven’t had much practice.” You replied.
“Stop replying to him.” Estrid seethed whispers into your ears, but by this point you were more curious to continue the conversation than anything.
“Can you use a sword?” Askeladd asked you, ignoring the hushing of Estrid.
You considered whether or not you should reply to this particular query. You did know how to. Your father although he had wanted sons, was blessed, or perhaps cursed, with three daughters instead. Still wanting to pass his legacy down though, he taught you, along with your sisters, the basics of hand-to-hand combat.
“Only the basics.” You confirmed.
“You seem smart enough to learn more.” He grinned in response. His face this time around didn’t seem quite as smug, but rather curious and even longing. You had a very small hunch that he had some sort of tie to Wales, but couldn’t admit such a fact in front of the Danes.
“Still, I have a duty to this family, so I must refuse.” You ended up denying him, as if you had a choice. Looking around you, this interaction had seemingly acquired the attention of bystanders. Surely someone of Askeladd’s stature wouldn’t make a scene over one measly slave such as yourself.
“Three ounces of silver.” He then announced, looking Estrid dead in the eye. “The price of three live sheep. If anything, it should last you until spring.”
“Tempting as that might be, my family has grown used to her.” Estrid denied.
“Four? Five?” Askeladd offered. “You can easily buy a high value slave with such an amount along with enough food for your family to last until summer.”
You gulped. You felt desperate to stay, but you were also curious as to why this man was willing to pay so much for you. The price you were initially bought under was at just one sheep. You glanced over to Estrid whose face was now fighting against her own refusal. You knew that she should be taking such an offer.
“Very well.” She finally caved in and accepted. But then you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Why were you even surprised?
Her tight grip had finally let go of your wrist and you watched as Askeladd handed her a heavy pouch laden with silver coin to go.
“Askeladd… That was worth a banquet at least.” The brown haired man groaned.
“And we will plunder some more.” Askeladd shrugged back.
You watched on as Estrid counter the silver with a shine in her eyes, purposefully avoiding meeting your gaze and then walking away, leaving you behind with a man you feared from the very beginning. You felt sad to be abandoned, but not because you wanted to live at the farm. But because you helped raise her sons that you will be now forced to forget.
“Now then.” Askeladd announced, straightening his posture. “Follow along.”
You had no choice but to comply and shuffle along behind him as he broke into a steady pace. Behind you, the brown haired man trailed along. In the time of hiring and buying help, it was as simple as trading livestock.
“Do you have a preference as to what you shall be called?” You decided to ask, struggling to keep up with his footsteps.
“Askeladd is fine.” He replied. “For you are not my slave.”
“Then, what is the purpose of my purchase?” You asked, confusion filling your voice. Judging by the sound the man behind you uttered, he also seemed to be just as lost as you were concerning Askeladd’s decision.
“You are to work alongside my band of men as an aide.” He explained. “Your knowledge of weapons and combat is also a benefit in this line of work, of course.”
“So you bought me in order to employ me?” You asked. “That is still a slave.”
Although, you did hear of rumours of female vikings by the name of shield-maidens. As far as you knew though, it was simply fodder for myths and legends.
“It’s a little different. You can leave if you’d like.” He shrugged.
“And your men, Askeladd.” You panted as his pace quickened. “Do they approve of this?”
“My men at the end of the day trust me and my decision-making.” He beamed, announcing his words just loud enough for the entire town to hear.
“Right.” You replied. “And where is it that we are going? I don’t see any of the men you had with you before here.”
“They are resting for the day. We came back to the Kingdom of Denmark to recharge before heading out for another voyage.” He explained. “For now, I accept to bear the responsibility of showing you around.”
“Ah.” You reluctantly accepted.
“And also, I want you to tell me more of your homeland.” He stopped suddenly, causing you to walk into him. He pushed you back gently and set his hands upon your shoulders, looking down at you with curious eyes. “Tell me about Wales.”
You were content with doing so, but you didn’t quite understand why he was so interested in your homeland. Was he joking? Today was strange enough of a day that nothing had even surprised you anymore, though.
“I will do my best.” You replied, feeling a little odd.
Silence followed upon your compliance and then he begun to walk once again, prompting you to tag along closely behind. You felt your own curiosity surface, a familiar feeling that you had only felt from the very moment you saw him earlier on this afternoon.
Except now, you didn’t feel as unsafe. You even felt safe.
You couldn’t help but also wonder as you followed him along. Who was he? What was his story? Why was he so deeply fascinated with Wales? Why was your heritage alone worth the price of your supposed freedom?
Just who was he really?