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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 16 : Let Me Go

As soon as she entered her tent, she placed a hand over her chest, rubbing it intently a few times as she lets out a somewhat strangled breath. She struggled to even take a seat on her bed. The princess would never admit it but what happened earlier had scared her beyond oblivion. It frightened her. Growing up, Erika understood the price placed above her head. She wasn't supposed to live, no. There were never supposed to be living heirs to the throne. When her parents were assassinated, she was supposed to go alongside them, with her younger brother following suit. Closing her eyes, she could feel all the past memories flooding in to attack her. The recent incident had been a trigger to her.

A catalyst.

Her breathing became very ragged and moved at an uneven pace, so much that Erika struggled to maintain her control over her own exhalation. A moment later, she could feel her chest tightening as the airflow were cut short and her windpipe felt crushed. Everything was closing on to her. Dragging herself to the corner of the space, she began to sob silently. Erikaterina doesn't cry often. There were three rules she had abided since a child.

One, don't ever cry in front of anyone else.

Two, don't ever show your weakness in front of anyone else.

Three, wake up, you're still alive.

Clearly the poisoning attempt had made her rethink her choices. She thought she was free from it when she left Wessex close to eleven moon ago. There was no assassination attempts while she was in Algeciras too. Neither did she have one while residing with the Northmen. Could you blame the poor girl getting paranoid from everything that is associated with her supposedly ‘friends’ if she kept being bombarded with such attempts on her life?

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When Aethelwulf stepped inside, his eyes searched wildly for his friend, who he then found leaning by the corner with a tear stained face and a hollow look adorning it. Sighing to himself, he made his way towards her slowly as he kneeled down to greet her level and took a seat next to her. Poor girl was traumatized. Again.

He had wondered when it would stop for her. Unlike him, she had every reason to doubt everything and everyone. She did not grew a healthy life. But no one seems to see that. Nor do they seem to try and understand it. Memories of her past and the mysterious shroud she wore around her like a cloak, not one soul knew with the exception of Ecbert and his son, Aethelwulf. A secret passed through generation. A secret that his sons would one day possess just as well.

Because there is more to Erikaterina than what meets the eye. No ones knows but that's exactly the reason that drove them into trying to seek out the secret, which never ends up well for them. What was it about the Russian princess that the two generation of Saxon Kings kept from everyone's knowledge? What was so important that not one survived to live the next day if they had tried to pry in to find out? It seems that no one would know, unless it was spilled directly from the source herself.

“I'm sorry..” Aethelwulf started off by apologizing to the princess, who still had a hollow look eating her soul away. Her hues were emotionless and void of anything. It was like she was glass. A non-animated thing. A non-living thing. Soulless. Dead.

“I could've died today.. I could've died a painful death,” she trailed, her every words being slurred purposely. “I. Could. Have. Died. Today. And it would've all been because of you. You, who are supposed to protect me.. Dead at the hands of the person who knew everything.” Her voice got louder as she then laughed. The sudden change of mood surprised the Saxon King, who turned to face her. But then her laugh stopped. “You know I will never escape from this.”

“We'll find a way. We always found a way-”

It wasn't long after she had interrupted him by snapping. “Yes. A way that extended my surviving odds by what- three or four more moons? A year or two?! How long, Aethelwulf?! You tell me! How long do I have to keep living in constant fear?!” It saddens the King to see his friend breaking down in front of him. She's never had a meltdown such as this. At least she's never shown it in front of anyone. And for once, he wasn't sure what to say. He didn't have anything to say that will assure her in any way.

She then got up and started making sure all her daggers and sword were there, trying to get out but was stopped by him. “Let me go, Aethelwulf. I'm tired of running like this.”

“If you are tired of running, why are you doing the very thing you wanted to stop doing?”

Scoffing at him, she shook her head before lowering her hand that held her sword. “I'm going back to where I belong. With my husband. At least during my time with the Northmen, all I had to worry was if someone was going to kill me directly, instead of worrying if I will die after eating something. I will not die due to an assassination attempt.” The raven haired princess gritted her teeth as she clenched her jaw, once the words were uttered. She wasn't going to die like that. Her life wasn't supposed to be like that.

“And you will not. You did not undergo all the hardships of being trained and prepared your entire life for nothing, Kat. You think you might never become a Queen because your brother will take care of it. But no, you are the rightful ruler. You've always been that. You will die your own way, may it be of old age or a defeat on the battlefield.” Grabbing a hold of her shoulders, she looked up to him, who gave her a reassuring smile. “You are strong. Your weapon is your ambiguity. The mystery that shrouded you, that is your weapon. Use it.”

He was right. Erika wasn't a warrior queen like Lagertha nor was she a smart queen who relies on her wits like Aslaug. She wasn't a benevolent and kind queen like that of her late mother; who was known during her lifetime to be a graceful compassionate queen. No. She wasn't a queen. She was just a princess, who just so happened to be given the wrong unfortunate life. She had nothing to showcase other than her status and blood. Which is why, she was prepared for any possible outcome by Ecbert from the moment she came as a small child of 6. Unlike the known queens, she didn't work her way to her title. She was given them, and she has made good use of it. Her identity is all that she has.

“As much as I am glad to see you finally letting the shell broke, you're not going anywhere. You'll stay here as we march onto York the next morning.” The sudden statement had caught her off guard, to which she offered him a confused look.

“You're still going with it.” Aethelwulf nodded and led her back to her bed, where he sat next to her and caressed her dark locks and pecked her forehead. Until she felt a warm sensation gracing her wrist. Ropes. There were ropes tied around her wrist tightly, but not too tight to cut her circulation off.

“I love you Kat, but I can't trust you that you won't do anything foolish. I'll come back after the attack.” With that, he left her to struggle with her own self. She had let herself be fooled and caught off guard by her own friend. For the next hours, she had mumbled words of profanities towards herself as no one is allowed to visit her the entire night.

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She was woken up by the rustling sound produced from Alfred's boots. He entered the tent alongside his older half brother, Aethelred. Possibly to bid her farewell as he marched into this pointless life sacrificing battle he didn't need to indulge himself in. Erika was still mad at Aethelwulf for bringing his sons with him, it was a suicide note. Why would you ever bring your legacy somewhere you might die together with? England still needed to repair themselves and rise again. That was what Ecbert would've wanted. It was what she wanted for them.

Crouching before the princess, Alfred gave her a small smile, reassuring her that he will survive this and come back to resume their pending stories together. Soon enough, the youngest Saxon prince took his leave, leaving the firstborn son with her. “Aethelred. Please, let me go. Let me tag along at least. You know it's very unlikely for you to come victorious from this. You will get yourself killed. And I don't want that to happen to any of you.” However many time the Russian pleaded, Aethelred shook his head every time and just gave her a reassuring smile. But shortly before he left her tent, she called him, telling him to loosen her ties as it was quite tight for her, fearing that it would cut her circulation, especially given her current status.

And he fell for it. He loosened up the ties before exiting the tent. That had given the princess an advantage to get herself out of the ties that had bounded he expressed over a night. After making sure they have left to March towards York, she wiggled herself out and succeeded. The raven haired princess rubbed and caressed both her wrists gently before sneaking out with a quiver strapped and her sword with her. She made sure no one saw her leaving camp, which was easy because everyone obviously had forgotten what it feels like to underestimate her.

She climbed over the walls that they had gone through the first time and saw the Saxons rejoicing in their ‘victory'. The whole town was deserted and it didn't make any sense for her. Why would Ivar leave like this so easily when it was clear the victory on within their grasps? It could only mean one thing and it did not take her long to understood his tactics. It was a trap. Again.

She perched herself on to one of the roofs and stared at the situation under her scrutinizing gaze. Where were the vikings? Where have they gone? Better yet, where were they hiding at? Her eyes wandered wildly as she tried to pinpoint their exact location, until her gaze falls onto the rats skirmishing the town. Wait, rats? Above?

Of course.

Ivar was a strategist in the making. He's already proved himself more than once, this wouldn't strike her as a surprise. She knew it by then, that the crippled Ragnarsson had opted to put the sewers underground to good use. It makes sense why the rats are coming up instead. She was the one who told him regarding the sewers in the first place. By the time she had figured it slowly, she saw the stones covering or barricading the small entrance from the sewers were removed and the vikings started to pile up, charging on the Saxon soldiers who were still in confusion. Hiding herself in the plain sight, she lowered her body and watched as one by one of the soldiers get slaughtered by the savage Northmen.

Erika tried her best to locate the two princes and only saw Alfred who was struggling to keep his stand. Aethelred can handle himself, she thought. Alfred, on the other hand, needed all the help he could have. In the main alley, she saw Alfred fighting off a few vikings. This had caused the Russian born woman to take one arrow from her quiver and notch it on her bow before carefully aiming. As time went by, she began to pluck one by one of the vikings from above, making sure Alfred wasn't a target for more than two people.

Until she saw Hvitserk, of course.

The sight of her husband being covered in blood and fighting like the berserker he was, she cursed silently as she made her way down carefully. She needed to take care of herself more now. She was caring for two more little humans inside her. The flaxen haired prince was a savage when it comes to such combat, befitting his viking nature and heritage. Yelling out in anticipation, the adrenaline that drove the prince had resulted the death of multiple Saxon soldiers. She also happened to catch the sight of Hvitserk fighting with Aethelwulf. Dear God.

Erika rushed over toward their direction but made sure not to be involved directly as she etched herself towards the wall, watching as the scene unfolds before her. Thankfully, Aethelwulf evaded successfully and some of their own had separated their own rivalry. But of course, Hvitserk probably had a lot to vent to. Aethelwulf was the reason he had to leave his wife and the reason why he was humiliated; resulting the belittlement by his youngest brother, Ivar. He was as prideful as he can get, much like his wife as well. She saw a rather big Viking charging towards Alfred after crushing a few others.

“Come on, Erika. You can do this.” Slowly unsheathing her sword, she tossed the end of her cloak's hood go veil herself as she hurled herself into the fight, killing three vikings like it didn't bother her; let's be honest, it really doesn't. She didn't exactly grew fond of them overnight. But before she could get to Alfred, she was pushed towards the wall by a viking, who took the hood off her thus revealing her identity. But the man didn't have the time to say any time to accuse her of her traitorous act because she had drove her sword into his torso, bleeding him out as she left him there and went towards Alfred.

Again, another obstacle stood before her. But it was a way too familiar obstacle she wasn't sure she could go through. Before her stood Eron Sivgny, her own lieutenant, his face and armor tainted with blood of his enemies. “Eron-” However, before she could have the chance to even say anything, the Russian male dragged her with him into a much more secluded and deserted place, preferably inside an inn of sorts. Closing the door with a huge slam, he pushed her gently inside.

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“What was that, Erika?! Why did you throw yourself in battle, killing your own people?!” It was clear that the male was frustrated at his commander's reckless actions. Just wait till he gets ahold of her pregnancy news.

“I was trying to get to Alfred.”

“Not today, Rika. You're staying inside here. Until I say otherwise,” he grumbled and gave her the look that said there was no point in fighting him on this. “That's final, princess.”

“Am I not supposed to be your commander and liege? Why does it sound like you're following my husband's orders instead of mine,” she rebuffed, obviously showing her discontentment over this matter. Well, she is under a lot of emotional strain lately.

“This is not about me following his orders. This is me protecting you. And when it comes to this, protecting Princess Erikaterina comes with the description where it also meant keeping you from being your reckless self. You're a remarkable person, Rika. But you're also very unpredictable and reckless. Let's not let that interfere for this situation, alright?” It never ceases to amaze Erika how Eron still managed to make sure everything was alright with her. Being stern but still redundant and caring at the same time.

“But Alfred-”

“I will make sure he gets out safely, don't worry.” With that, the tall bulky Russian male left without another word being said, leaving the princess in her own solitary confinement again. Sometimes she felt lucky having him by her side, but as she grew up, she hated the feeling of being so dependent occasionally. It was growing to be a pain towards the raven haired woman.

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But of course Erika being Erika, defied the very instruction her own friend had given and sneaked out right after he left. It wouldn't be the first time, so she doubted Eron would actually find it in him to feel surprised when he comes back only to find her gone. It wasn't that she does not trust him; she trusts him with his life. He was probably the only person she allowed herself to be casual with, without any care in the world. But it still does not change the fact that in the many responsibilities that had been bestowed upon herself, keeping Alfred safe from harm’s way was one of them.

By the time she got to him, he was escaping with a fellow soldier. Not the best person she'd trust him with considering even she could defeat him easily and whilst she's a formidable opponent, she wasn't the most strongest or a warrior hardened person. Her strong points had always been underlying the battle strategies and tactics, alongside the political statesmanship and alliances. The only reason why she became their commander was because she needed to establish her root of power back then, since she was only regarded to be nothing more than a princess from title. A decoration of sorts.

She hurried back to the camp and straight up confront the Saxon King as she stepped into his tent, pulling the hood off and flashed him a disapproving look his way. “I told you it was stupid. But no, you didn't listen. Like you always did. And I will always have to prove my point every time. Does my say mean nothing to you? We've been working together for years long, Aethelwulf. But every time I thought up something, I can't help but to see how I had to work and show it despite knowing fully well it was viable.” It might have been the whole pregnancy signs where her emotional state is a little bit more wrecked on the inside. But she had always been placed aside like this all her life, it was starting to get to her as she grew up.

“I don't want to talk about this-”

“No, you don't. But since we don't always get what we want, you're still going to hear it.” She pressed and took off her cloak before tossing it aside, frustration radiating off her. She was beyond livid. “You risked the lives of your countrymen out there. Because of your ignorance. Now I might not care if you end up becoming a good king or not, but I know what I do care. Your sons’ well-being. Their health. Bringing them with you, I cannot fault you there. But to bring them again into a battle you know just as well that you might lose, now that is absurd and ridiculously stupid. Even for you.”

“Don't ever put your children's lives in danger again. If you cannot be a good King, the least you could do is be a decent father.” Not long after that, Erika stormed out, huffing as she got rid of all the venting she needed. She felt slightly better. Only then was she reminded that Eron was probably looking for her and was worried sick.

That night while they were eating dinner, she saw the tense looks on everyone's faces. They weren't telling her something. “Where's Bishop Heahmund?” The sudden question from Erika had made the silence more impregnable. It was an uncomfortable silence. “He didn't make it out, then.” As easily as the words came out her, she dismissed the topic of the Sherborne Bishop with a sip of her drink. Shame, Bishop Heahmund was a very great warrior. To lose such person so easily, was certainly a frown. “With that being said, you realize you shouldn't keep me here any longer, Aethelwulf. I don't know about Ivar, but Hvitserk is very adamant when it comes to getting what he wants. I wouldn't put it past him to let his wife go so easily. If Bishop Heahmund is still alive and held captive, you can exchange me with him, a far better selection of person you needed.”

“What is that supposed to mean.” The accusatory tone that laced her voice surely has managed to send the signals to the petulant King, who stopped every movement as his eyes glazed over to her.

Shrugging casually, she hummed. “We all know who's more helpful in rebuilding your foundation when you return to Wessex. You can't have me there too for there is no place for me. I was the treasonous traitor. As you accept your defeat with a heavy heart, you would rebuild Wessex to its former glory to keep the legacy going. While I, will return to where I actually belonged.”

“You belonged here. You've always belonged here. This is your home,” he pressed firmly, as he too was very adamant into getting his way. He lost a lot, but he wasn't about to lose her in the heaps just as well.

“I'm carrying his child.. Children, Aethelwulf. You cannot separate a cub from their mother and father. You know that.” It was one thing that Aethelwulf could fight against, for he deeply knew somewhere in him, that was the truth. He could never keep her here against her will. He couldn't bring himself to do it. King Ecbert's words rung in her ears every time; that Aethelwulf would always forgive her, despite everything.

“But I won't lose you.. I can't.”

“You never have. And you never will. You know a part of me will always be here. I grew up here under your wings. You moulded me into the person I am today. All the knowledge I gained and received, was an entrapment I relished in here. But you also knew, that one day you'll have to set me free. You took care of an injured bird, but alas, you know one day you will have to set it free. How can I fly when my wings are clipped and tied?”

Whilst it seemed like he was in a deep thought, she took it as a chance to reconcile and set their differences away as it does seem like it was going to be the last time she actually sees him. “You don't even have to send me back to my husband. But you have to let me go. Send me back to my brother in Russia, or even off to Sicily; even though that option is very hazardous to my current state,” she chuckled softly, clearly finding the joy in this. “But you know deep down where you should send me back to. All my life, people have conspired against me, Aethelwulf. Men have conspired against me. They don't like the fact that I hold more power despite not wanting it. My birthright is a curse. Powerful men such as them can't afford to lose to a girl, they say. You know that.”

Leaning forward to face him, her facial features softened and she sighed. “'I can't keep living like this. I can't be sheltered every day. I need to survive. For my brother. And for my people's sake. I may be fragile, but I fought wars with you despite having only half your number and you taught me how to wield a sword as early as 6. Your father taught me all the arts I needed to procure and master since a child. I won't die so easily, my friend. But you have to let me go.”

“Fine. I know I cannot keep you here against your will no longer. If I don't let you go, you will find a way to let yourself go. I don't want you to leave without saying your goodbyes.”

“It won't be a goodbye. Goodbye means I won't come back. Which I don't think I can help myself with.”

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#hvitserk x oc #Hvitserk #vikings #Bjorn Ironside #ivar the boneless #ivar #ubbe #peirasmós

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 15 : The More The Merrier

A/N : I have a little surprise for you guys <3 Read and you shall find out~ There might be a lack of Hvitserk and the vikings, but I just thought focusing on Erika’s story would be fun ^_^

She was given a tent to sleep in, but the entire night Erika couldn't sleep without thinking of the possibilities that will influence her future. The moment dawn comes gracing the early morning, she had gotten up and dressed herself in a spare dress she got from Judith. Judith and her had an understanding for some empowerment and views on the new world. They don't particularly had to like each other but they do respect one another for the same reason. Erika was an image she favored. A princess that grew and molded herself into a perfect stature that of a future Queen. Although the latter never actually understood why everyone was so adamant into prepping her to become a ruler since a child. It was clear that she had declined the crown in favor to her younger brother, and that she would only be Queen once her brother had passed away.

Though the young princess never thought she would be a Queen Regnant, but rather a Queen Mother instead, seeing as how things were going towards the path of her brother striving in his youth. By the time his brother passed away due to old age or illness, she would have already had children; heirs for the throne. But the future could never actually be foretold by anyone. Anything could happen.

Stepping out from the tent, the raven haired princess made her way into the woods with a quiver in her hands. She had taken it from the tables earlier and thought she would do herself some good venting her frustrations and worries elsewhere; somewhere that doesn't include impaling anymore Saxons with an arrow. She's done plenty of killing them anyways. Once she has been venturing deep enough into the woods with no intrusion from anyone, she took out the bow and notched an arrow before directing it towards a tree. The first crack of hole she made into the tree became another and more came to follow afterwards.

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By the time the sun sets high to mark the noon, she had already hunted down a few rabbits tied up with a rope around their legs. Picking up the stray arrows from the tree bark she's been hurting since dawn, she placed them back into the quiver neatly before going back to the camp. As soon as she arrived, she was greeted with a worried Aethelwulf who looked as if someone had stolen something from him. By the looks of it; something very precious.

Quirking her eyebrows cluelessly, she pondered why he looked that way. But just as she was about to ask, she was engulfed with a bear hug from the Saxon King. It took her by surprise and she almost dropped the bow and four rabbits tied into a bunch, in her left hand. “What did I do?”

Alfred come trailing behind him afterwards with his older brother, Aethelred, where both lets out a huge breath of relief upon witnessing the princess. “We thought you were kidnapped by the Northmen. We couldn't find you when I went to call you for breakfast.” Alfred explained and Erika only nodded as her mouth formed an o.

“I went out for some fresh air.. And got a few rabbits while doing so.” With that, she raised the string, showing the rabbits to them who only chuckled despite having a worried look plastered onto them.

“We thought you were taken away from us. Again.” The sudden remark from her old friend made her frown. He was referring to the first time he heard the news of her capture in Algeciras. It had haunted the King back then, to lose his cherished friend and ward like that. In the hands of the Northmen, no less.

“No one is kidnapping me, Aethelwulf. Never again. I'm a free person. I go wherever I want to go,” she reassured lightly as she placed an encouraging pat on his shoulders before heading inside. When she saw the two princes still standing outside, she turned around with a playful look marred her face. “Well someone needs to skin them and I already did the hard work of hunting them. So it's not going to be me.”

That earned a few chuckles for the three royals as Aethelwulf beckoned for his sons to go help their guardian. It gave him a swell of delight to see her communicating so well with the two princes. Alfred grew into a wise and matured prince. He had his way with words, Which reminded him of how well Ecbert and Erika had taught him in his childhood days. Whereas Aethelred grew into a exact mirror image of him. A great warrior is the making. While his moves are aggressive like his father, he had a calming sense of nimble surrounding him while also being fierce. Like a lion cub who would actually pounce despite looking calm most of the time like nothing was bothering him. An air Erika exuded.

The princess had only been gone from their eyes for only twelve moons or so, almost a year. Yet, the Saxon royal family found themselves missing her presence. She was a realist. A breath of fresh air they needed.

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They had lunch together. The table was inhabited by food and graced by the presence of Aethelwulf, Judith, Bishop Heahmund and the two princes; Aethelred and Alfred, alongside their guest, Erika. She had told them of her current arrangements with the Northmen when Judith asked her what happened in Algeciras. The topic of her marriage and holy sacred matrimony union with a Viking Prince; none other than the third eldest son of Ragnar Lothbrok himself, had particularly ticked Aethelwulf off. As if sensing the tension brewing in their atmosphere, Alfred and Aethelred refrain themselves from asking questions towards the princess.

“There's no use in frowning over the matter, Aethelwulf. It's done. I'm married to a Northmen. A Viking Prince. A heathen and a Pagan. You don't think I haven't thought of this revelation every night since?” The Russian knew how everyone was viewing her now. And she has had about enough of it. All the judgemental looks and remarks. The generalization and assumptions. She hated it before, and she hated it now. It hasn't changed. If anything, it fueled her more than it used to.

“An annulment is not impossible.”

“Excuse me?” The moment those words came out from his mouth, she couldn't believe her ears. “Are you seriously talking about an annulment on a lunch table? This isn't the place, Aethelwulf. I'm sure there are better things to discuss about, other than my marriage life.”

“I'm just saying that annulment is possible for you. You said it so yourself, he's a Pagan, therefore he is not entitled to our holy Christian ways.” He had continued as if the conversation was the most normal one he's had.

“I can't. Honestly, I can't even if I wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“Drop it, King Aethelwulf,” she gritted her teeth, her grip on the spoon getting more tighter as the seconds fly by. She didn't want him to pry into her private life, not in front of everyone while they were eating. She should've known better. He was Aethelwulf. He never gives up without a fight. A trait so similar she should've seen it coming. “I mean it.”

“No, I want to know why you are not so keen into divorcing your husband. It was an arranged marriage, is it not? One for your brother's benefits but not your own?” He was poking into her and she was left with no choice but to answer his tenacious self.

“It wasn't a problem now.”

“But it was a problem then?”

“I did not mean tha-”

“Then, what do you mean, Katerina?! Hm? Why are you evading all the questions. You shouldn't be the one who keeps the secrets, Kat.” The sudden rising in his tone had made the princess back away against her seat. She was surprised with the sudden scowl that marked his face.

But she wasn't about to give up without a fight either. Both of them were too stubborn and egoistical for their good, no wonder they matched off well together as friends all these years. Standing up to face the King in defiance, she scowled just as well. “I went off to find my way. And I was captured in doing so. I spent two moons being a slave to the Northmen. One who would end up being my husband, a person I am tied to for the rest of my life. I resented it and could not accept it the first time. But I grew up, Aethelwulf! I. Grew. Up. I stopped being selfish and started to remind myself why I am living till this day.”

Shaking her head in dismay, she stared at the King with a look of disappointment. “I have done everything for the sake of others. You know that. Everything I do was to contribute into the success and prosperity of my brother and my kingdom. My country. My people. It has always been that way. I learned to accept it and now I live with it. There was no point in regretting anything. Regretting would not make me happy nor could it change anything. It doesn't make it any better!” As her eyes well up in tears, so did her her tone drop into a much more softer one. “It only means I know I'll be burdened by the fact knowing I could regret all day and still would not be able to change what happened. So yes, Aethelwulf, forgive me for not wanting to think more on this trivial matter. Because you know I would rather waste my time investing into something that will be worthwhile instead.”

Cleaning up after herself, she excused herself as she make her way back to her tent. The moment she set her foot in, she kicked the basket that was sitting by the table and plopped herself on the chair, staring at herself in the mirror. Her reflection made her upset and angry. She used to be a master at discerning any emotions, she had kept them dormant and invisible to the public's eyes. She had no idea why she was so emotional for the past few weeks now. Each day was becoming an emotional episode in everything she does.

“What is wrong with you, Erikaterina.”

She was a big emotional mess. It feels like her brain is emitting everything sense of her empathetic side to fight against each other.

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“I wish you would listen to me for once!”

There it is, the two fighting again. Despite their long term friendship that stood on solidly for so long, they sure had a scarce amount of fighting. Not. Erika was always dubbed the coyote whilst Aethelwulf was always seen to be a lion. A lion with a King's crown now. Whereas the coyote is still holding on to her princess crown. This time, they were bickering about the stance of their plan.

This morning, the first thing Erika did when she woke up was apologize to the King for her behavior she showed that night before; which was over two weeks ago. It took her that long. Of course that did not happen when she saw the lion discussing battle tactics with Bishop Heahmund. She wasn't offended or hurt that she wasn't informed of the plans, if she were them, she had every reason to doubt her loyalty too. Especially ever since she has mad either clear that she stood with the Northmen, seeing as she will always protect her brother's best interest. The alliance was an important step in his reign to show his dominion and power over the other lords in the East, as he was able to stop the problems occurring from the vikings.

But what infuriated the raven haired woman was that, Aethelwulf had decided to attack York again. While it was still heavily fortified. No doubt the coyote in her just came out and slashed every possibility of bragging rights back to him when she placed an exclamation mark on saying it was a futile plan. If others haven't seen it yet, pride is a big thing for most of them. Mostly for the two. They will never be able to give up their pride any day. That was their fatal flaw. A similarity they confided in each other.

“And why do is that, again? What would you suggest we do then, Kat? They are starving, this is the best chance to strike them.” Shaking her head at him, she pointed at the south section of the city on the map.

“You have underestimated us the first time. And got a lot of your people killed. Are you willing to do it the second time, knowing you have a more likely chance to be beaten again?” That had triggered the rising temper from Aethelwulf who huffed in response, clearly not liking the conduit she was playing at. “I'm not telling you to give up. I'm telling you to be smart about it. If you are going to attack, make sure it's at the right time. I'm pretty sure now's not it. You may think it's hard to trust me as I may not care for the rest of you.” People were right. The aftertaste is such a bitter one.

“But believe me, I care for our two Saxon princes very much. I wouldn't want them to die so uselessly this early. I hope you will take my words into consideration, your Majesty.” Feigning her curtsy, she exited the tent, inhaling and exhaling at an uneven pace. The tolerance within her has burned out. Too quickly. It was too quick. Usually she was not this short tempered when she could solve things diplomatically.

Erika placed a soothing hand over her chest and rubbed it a few times, trying to calm herself down as she took a bow and a quiver full of arrows as she marched off into the woods. Searching for a spot, she perched against a tree and loaded one arrow into her string and aimed it at a deer who stood not far from her. The sounds of the string loosening the arrow to the target gave her a sense of comfort. She was about to take the arrow out when she heard a few shrieks coming from a close distance.

While she was searching for her sword, she forgot she didn't bring it with her. Oh well, her bow and arrows will have to do it. Fortunately for the Russian princess, she had her dagger with her. That's more than good enough, depending on who her opponent might be. Or opponents. She sneakily trudged through the trees and saw a dozen or so vikings being killed off by the Saxon soldiers.

She was about to get a proper look when an arrow whooshed into her left side, just merely missing her left cheek. Widening her hues, she got into defense mood as she notched an arrow, pointing it towards one particular Saxon soldier who was going to reload his arrow but thankfully for her, she was faster. Stepping out from the trees, she still had her aim directed towards the soldier. His companions pulled out their swords and she tsked. “4 against 1. Against a petite woman, where did you soldiers learn your manner. Certainly not so gentlemanly of you to shoot an arrow to an unarmed woman.”

“You weren't exactly unarmed.” A familiar voice broke through, coming from her behind. Turning around to face the said person, she almost lowered her guard when she saw it was Alfred. She lowered her hold on the bow before placing the arrow back into its respective place. “What are you doing out here anyways? They must've mistaken you as one of the Northmen.”

“Well, I was unarmed the first time. I was just out hunting because your father made me want to kill someone and it's not a good thing to be around a camp full of soldiers who could tip me off by just bumping into me, my sweet dear prince.” She narrowed her hazel hues at the younger prince who in return, only let out a jovial laugh. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she glared at the soldiers. “I was literally wearing my attire. I don't even pass off as a Northmen, so I don't see where you got your logic where I might be mistaken as a Northmen.”

“Come on, Rika. We should get back. We have a lot of things to skin today.” He pointed towards a cart full of dead animals hunted down by the now dead group of vikings.

“I am not going to skin anything today. Afraid the blood makes me.. Nauseous.”

The look Alfred had given her was probably one mixed with absurdity. Erikaterina was nauseous when in the presence of blood? What sort of sorcery had befell the young princess now? It was a statement even the Saxon prince had a hard time processing. “You're telling me, you, Erikaterina.. Is nauseous around blood? What happened to you? Are you sick or unwell?” When he went forward to check her temperature, she slapped his hands away before scowling.

“I'm fine, I'm just-” However, before she could finish her words, she felt a bile coming up her and went off the trails to let everything out from her system. Her hold against the tree bark had tightened as she coughed out whatever it was out from her. Truthfully, she's been experiencing vomiting and nauseousness since two weeks ago, hence her mood being very wrecked resulting her apology being delayed.

“You were saying?”

“Oh shut up.”

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Throughout their journey back to the camp, she had tried to avoid Alfred's endless questionnaire session. She wasn't really feeling well for a while now and it was getting more severe now. At first, she thought it was the food or something. Now, she's not really sure. So she spent the entire day in her tent, up until she actually declined any offer of food because she didn't feel like she could digest anything.

That was until Aethelwulf came in her tent, with a man trailing behind him. Judith, Aethelred, Alfred and Bishop Heahmund were also with him. Positioning herself to meet them clearly, she groaned out in exhaustion as she tried to figure what they were here for. “Why are you in my tent?”

“Alfred told us you were sick.”

Erika then gave Alfred a look that says ‘really now?’ and he only responded by shrugging. “Traitor...,” she mumbled. “Nothing is wrong with me. I've just been nauseous all week.. Well two. Maybe it's the digestive system..I don't know. I haven't been eating well before anyways.” She dismissed it absentmindedly but it wasn't nearly enough to shrug them off the matter. “Or maybe it's God's way of punishing me.”

Aethelwulf then beckoned for the man to check on her, to which Erika did nothing but comply as she didn't exactly have the strength to say no. She's been vomiting severely for two weeks. There's only so much she could take. She isn't prone to sickness after all.

After a while, the man who she found to be their healer said she was fine with only small signs of fatigue and restlessness. “See, I told you. You're being dramatic..” She grumbled as she tried to brush herself off.

“You were a bit puffy, Rika. Almost bloated.”

“If that is your way of telling me I'm getting fat, just you wait when I'm alright again. You best sleep with your eyes open, cub.”

That was when Judith presented her idea; an idea that really made the princess gape. Why? Because it was the most absurd idea she's heard, even more absurd than Alfred's assumptions on her being sick. “Maybe we should check her pulse, Lord Richard.” While she also did not push the healer off, she didn't look pleasant, it almost intimidated the healer himself.

The twinkle flickering in the healer's hues however had raised questions from everyone in the room. Even her. “Well?”

“Congratulations your Highness, you are expecting a child.”

The look on their faces and hers differed by a mile. She was still trying to process everything in and it was taking much more of a while than she thought it would. Is that why she's been having such symptoms? Because she was with child? “She is with child?” Judith asked, an excited grin gracing her facial features. Because pregnancy was a blessing. But was it to her?

“Children, really. I sense a faint pulse of the other. It's slightly faint but it's there.”

“Twins!” The delight coming out from Judith was even more than the actual person carrying them. Erika was still in a trance. Aethelwulf thanked the healer and he exited the tent, leaving the royal family to be alone with the Russian royalty herself.

“You have been vomiting since the last two weeks, you said?” Judith took a seat next to her and asked promptly, and Erika nodded. “That would mean you've at least been about 8 weeks pregnant. How have you not noticed it earlier?”

“I have no idea.. I was too busy with things, I guess.” Of course she could be pregnant. Even before kindling her relationship with Hvitserk 4 weeks ago, they have been married for almost three moons. It was truly unexpected for her. It should be a good news but Aethelwulf wasn't looking too happy for her. He asked for them to leave him to talk alone with his long time friend. “I guess now you can say, I have a solid reason that's for myself, not to leave them.”

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A week had passed and she still could not truly begin to even wrap her head around the recent revelation. She didn't speak much and only ate a small amount, to which Alfred always had to remind her she now has to eat for two more. A reminder his father didn't seem like he liked to hear. Aethelwulf would be happy if the child didn't end up being the spawn of a Viking. But nothing could be done now. Here they were, eating dinner while the princes and King discussed their battle plans with Bishop Heahmund. Aethelwulf still wishes to attack them as he is convinced they were starving and burning their dead now.

After her pregnancy reveal, he did not allow her to go outside anymore for safety reasons. However, Erika couldn't stand by and hear the absurdity lacing the Saxon King's suggestions. He was not thinking clearly and was driven by his heart instead. “This is stupid.”

“Excuse me?” Suddenly, all their attention were shifted towards the princess who shook her head. They weren't sure if her words were directed to them and wished to know what she was saying.

“You're doing it all wrong..” Sighing to herself, she went on to tell them it was too early to make a decision. It was too quick of one. They mustn't be reckless. “I haven't known Ivar for that long but during the time I do know him, I studied him. And he is much more smarter than he would you on. He's a growing strategist, Aethelwulf. He probably wanted you to think he's burning the dead. Do not underestimate it like you once did.”

“I know what I'm doing, Katerina.” The petulant hard headed King insisted his plan would work and no one had the bravery to question his judgement. Bishop Heahmund did earlier and suffered a heavy scolding from him.

“Fine. Go ahead. Go in and see which one of us is right. But just know, anything that occurs, it is all on you, Aethelwulf. All those death. It will be on you,” she scoffed and placed the silver cutlery on the table, a scorned look present before her face. “But then again, you've been responsible for many deaths already. Surely a few more wouldn't bother you.”

As she stormed out of the tent to go back into her own, Judith kept telling the males that it was all the pregnancy symptoms. Her emotions were wilding and sometimes she wanted to rip their heads off because they annoyed her to the point of no returning. The ignorance Aethelwulf was exuding made Erika groan out in distress. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to slap the sense into him.

Alfred came through the curtains of her tent's not long after, plopping himself next to her as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her emotions were mirroring her current look, which was a deep dive of contempt. “You know father didn't mean his harsh tone. He's just burdened by a lot now.”

“I don't know what is what anymore, Alfred. I feel utterly and completely lost.”

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The entire night last night, Alfred spent his time in her tent talking to the Russian princess who seemed like she could use some company. The tender sweet friendship between the two were a long term one, much like the one she possessed with his father. But the love she felt and bore for the younger prince were slightly different. It was possibly due to the fact that she has taken care of him since he was an infant, up until he has grown up into a teenager. He had to persuade her to eat dinner together with the rest, where she would initially decline because she didn't want to argue with Aethelwulf.

They were best of friends, Aethelwulf and her. But their arguments go deep sometimes, as deep as their bond went. It was a fair price, somewhat. After multiple attempts of pushing her to the main tent, the youngest Saxon prince succeeded in convincing Erika to dine with them. Aethelred chuckled at his younger brother's triumphant look. When the bowl was placed before her, Erika scrunched her nose up in distaste after staring at it for good few seconds. “May I request for a tester?”

“We're not exactly in the position to bring testers around, Kat. Just eat.” Whilst others dug in their food, she did not. Clearly, she stopped for a good reason. Staring up to meet her eye level, Aethelwulf rolled his eyes. “This is not the time for you to be playing princess.”

“You and I both know why I always ask for testers.”

“You're being paranoid.”

Huffing in response, she pushed the bowl away as she glared at the Saxon King. It was bad enough that their endless bickering and banter did not subside yet, she did not wish to add more but he was making it very hard for her. Or was it just her?

“I'm not eating.”

“Don't be ridiculous and childish, Katerina. Eat.” The slight growl that slipped up from him had made the others eat in silence and truthfully, it surprised her, who gave up and grabbed the silver spoon and took a scoop of the porridge in the cutlery. She was about to eat it when the guard standing not far off from where she stood suddenly stumbled by the table and coughed out. But that wasn't what piqued her attention. It was the substance he coughed out.

Blood.

The poor soldier clawed his own throat as the lad suffered in silence, not being able to breathe properly due to his windpipe being stretched thin. Others ushered to his aid while Erika sat still in her seat. “He was the one who brought in her distinguished specified food due to her Highness's condition. He probably ate a small portion.” Soon enough, he lets out one final breath as the air leave his body. His ears began bleeding and so did his nose.

“He's experiencing hemorrhage. Internal bleeding inside him.. He was poisoned.” She mumbled, standing up with a tired look that made its way up to her features. “I'm not hungry anymore.” Stepping aside, the raven haired princess led herself out back to her tent to be with herself. Alfred and Aethelred had looks of confusion to what has happened. Poor princes were clueless and oblivious to what was going on.

“How did she know that, father?”

“And so the stories and rumors of her assassination attempts since a child were true after all,” he exclaimed. It was the first time Bishop Heahmund had spoken about the Russian. The rumors that surrounded her were hard to dismiss easily. The mystery that shrouded her entire persona were one of the most complicated cases he had ever seen.

It was no wonder the poor princess grew up cherishing life in every path she could walk through. She was taught that second chances such as that were rare for someone like her. That every day she lives, marked another day she became a survivor.

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#hvitserk x oc #hvitserk #vikings #Bjorn Ironside #ivar the boneless #ivar #ubbe #peirasmós

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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please can you let me know in which tv show is the character Erika or wtat's her real name?

You mean the face claim being used for Erika? The actress is Merve Boluğur. The show is Magnificent Century where she portrayed Nurbanu Sultan :)

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

Text

MASTERLIST

VIKINGS

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

#masterlist

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

Text

Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 14 : Home Sweet Home?

A/N : So sorry for the late update, my laptop went psycho on me for the past two days. But here you go, another update x)

Like a mouse following the cheese into a trap. That’s exactly the definition she would use, seeing the soldiers pouring inside the town’s walls. Unbeknownst to them, they were actually baiting them. But after seeing Aethelred and Alfred, her whole mind went dark and had only one thing certain in it. Protect the two princes. The cubs to the lion that led the powerful army charging through the small town. Even if she had to spill blood to do it, then so be it. There was nothing she would not do; to protect the ones she love and care about.

Keeping her eyes fixated on the two young males, she rushed to her checkpoint as fast as her legs could take her and perched on top of the highest floor from one of the buildings; waiting for the soldiers to come pouring into the west wing of the town. There were about 7 people stationed there, all 7 of them being her own soldiers, Ivar knowing fully well she has not yet trusted his kinsmen. That was highly considerate of him but the cripple told his brothers that it was to make sure the plan will be carried out instead of having a melodramatic season of delay due to trust issues.

Erika took out the bow she left in the room, and loaded one arrow, placing it gently as she makes her aim. Her breathing slowed down until she could only hear her heartbeat pumping from inside, and the bowstring was pulled slowly. The footsteps coming from the Saxon soldiers made the tension rise up gradually and it was only time telling her when to give the first strike; the sign to attack. Across her, two more soldiers were ready with a barrel of oil, just waiting for her command. But just when she was about to let the arrow fly its way into either one of the Saxons, she caught a glimpse of Alfred walking into the west wing; the wing they were targeting. She loosened her grip on the bowstring and cursed. “Damnit Alfred, get out of there.” Deciding it wasn’t worth risking it, she got up from her leaning position and aimed the arrow somewhere near the youngest prince instead.

The sound of the bowstring being loosened made itself known to the princess as the arrow made its mark at the poor unlucky soldier’s chest, who just so happened to stand beside Alfred. The boy dropped dead and it was a warning shot from the foreign princess, for Alfred to notice the impending danger and flee from there. When the first shot came down, it was sign for the others to carry out the other sets of plans. The wooden planks were let down from every corner and exit of the town, successfully barricading the soldiers with nowhere to go. A single hand gesture from the raven haired woman was all it took for her soldiers to pour the oil down.

The heavy crude lubricating oil greeted the Saxons face first and the grossed out groans were heard alongside a string of complaints. Of course, the complaints would not last long because they’re going to be running wild with flames. Literally. With the barricades sealing their sides, rendering them useless trying to escape, Erika notched yet another arrow and let Irena, who stood next to her, light it up with fire before pulling it. Making her aim by also slightly applying a stronger pressure to it and let the string go swiftly, the arrow hits the pavement that was also coated with oil; letting the fire erupt ardently. Soon, most of the soldiers in the west section had already burned themselves.

The first part of the plan was carried out prominently, so she made her way downstairs quickly to join the fight. Not so she could slaughter the Saxons, more to actually keeping a close eye on Aethelwulf’s cubs. She passed through a checkpoint at the south west corner of the alley, and the barricades were slowly being lifted as the archers took their aim and plucked them off one by one. It almost frustrated her to the point’s end when she could not manage to pinpoint their exact location. She had lost track of where Alfred fled to. Successfully dodging the other soldiers who were fighting against the Northmen with all their might despite being cornered, she wasn’t keeping an eye in front of her when she evidently crashed into a figure and both of them rolled down the pavement. The wet blood that coloured the road made her gag briefly before struggling to get back up and face whomever it was that she bumped into.

It was Alfred.

Secretly thanking God, she pulled him with her to a much more closeted and secluded alley. The reaction displayed across his face was enough to tell her than he did not expect to see her. “I thought you were captured and held against your will--” Sparing the younger prince a nonchalant look, she scrunched up her nose at the manner of melodramatic self he was trying to say she exuded.

“Excuse me, what? Captured and held against my own will? Who told you that,” she scoffed, still dragging him with her through the alley with all the dark walls surrounding them. There were a few soldiers fighting but they had more pressing matters to attend to; like surviving the end of the axe. So they didn’t exactly notice the new bride of one of the Viking princes were dragging their Saxon prince. “Don’t answer that, of course Aethelwulf would try to dramatize things over. He’s always been a drama queen.” She then rolled her eyes at the thought of the petulant King’s behavior. “No Alfred, I wasn’t tied or gagged up like some prisoner princess. This isn’t exactly a fairytale land, love. If you are captured, they’ll either kill you or maybe sacrifice you which isn’t any better than the first really, or they would offer you for ransom. You see, the second option is not really viable seeing as my brother was the one who offered me into the part of an alliance agreement. Brother of the year, I know.” Poor cub was struggling to keep in the same pace as she does, while also dodging the other people raining on them from all sides. To which Erika had surprisingly fend off very easily as she either hit their heads with the stick she took randomly at the corner, or kicked them off.

“Then, how are you here now? Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” Oh Alfred, always the sweet compassionate exuberant caring pup. She grinned widely at his question which made the prince to positively wonder whether his remark was a questionable one.

“Physically, they wish. Mentally, possibly every second I spent,” she shrugged and halted on her steps, letting the two vikings crash into each other within the narrow space, before jumping over them to resume her ‘fleeing’. “I married them, not bought them, Alfred. Pretty sure they actually have an amount of decent respect towards their women, seeing as they have shieldmaidens everywhere. Killing me off would be such a stupid move for them to do, especially when I’m basically the token of the ‘good will’ between the Russians and Northmen-” Right before she could finish her whole sentence, a random viking just so happened to strike at her, which she almost did not succeed in ducking.

Pushing Alfred away as he met the walls of the alley, she spinned around and slashed the viking’s left ankle, leaving him to grunt in pain as he fell down to his knees. Taking out her sword, she hits him with her hilt and kneed him to the face before making a clean swipe over his chest. She then beckoned for the prince to follow her as he was still struck by the nonchalant manner she had exuded earlier as she killed a fellow viking who tried to take on her. When Alfred didn’t move from his position, she took his hand and dragged him away with her. “-doesn’t mean they could not try and say my death was resulted in an ‘unlucky’ battle. That was the first attempt. Huh, I’m surprised they took this long to try and carry that idea out. Guess they’re not so bright after all.” It was almost shocking to see the infamous Erikaterina to chortle in such situation, but knowing her well, he shouldn’t be surprised.

When they finally made it out from the horrendous alley, she lets out a relieved sigh before offering the latter a soft smile. “Amiable people are affable. They are kind, warm, and friendly. There are not a lot of those people these days; making them to be such a short supply. But you know who’s amiable? You, Alfred. You’re the most amiable person I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet in all my life.” Her hazel hues softened as she embraced the younger prince, who returned the gesture. He has been growing very well and she knew this might be their last time meeting each other that is not under the grounds of hostility, so she was sure to bask in every single moment of it. “I missed you terribly. You and your brother, Aethelred. I wish we didn’t have to meet like this, this is definitely not the manner I want you to see me in.” A chuckle followed shortly after.

“Armor, or dress, crown or not, you’re still Erikaterina of Novgorod, Rika. You will still be her despite everything.” His statement had made the princess bit her bottom lip before trying very hard not to smile.

“That made me feel like I actually do have an identity.”

“And you do. You are your own person, not even marrying a Pagan would change that. One day, you’ll see that.” While the two converse, she told him to find someone trustworthy to guide him back to his father perhaps. Bidding the prince off, she hoisted herself on top of the rooftops as she climbed up. Her eyes caught the sight of Aethelred fending the vikings off. His fighting manner was much like his father, but still, he is new to it making him to be an easy target. She needed to get him out of there soon, forcing Aethelwulf to get out and she knew exactly where to hit.

Just one hit that is too close to home.

Grabbing her bow from her quiver, she notched an arrow before aiming it at Aethelred. She needed to be very precise and careful while doing it or she might end up hating herself even more for failing. Aethelwulf was ignorant when it comes to wars and battles, given that he is a great warrior. But he loves his sons more than anything, making him to be a good father. It was an idea she could trust. Her nimble fingers found itself tugging on the bowstring, pulling it slowly to her cheek level, as she lets out a ragged breath.

“I’m sorry, Aethelred.”

With that, the grip on the string were loosened and the arrow flew straight towards the eldest son, piercing his shoulder, just below his left shoulder. The prince staggered and Aethelwulf saw his son being vulnerable and went out his way to get his cub to safety, forcing the Saxon King to intervene. “Fall back! Retreat!” Hoisting his son’s arm around him, he dragged him away. Watching the scene unfold before her eyes, she sighed.

Mission accomplished.

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The Vikings emerged victoriously once again. While they were busy shoving the celebratory event to themselves, Erika took the other option; perching herself on the rooftop, staring into the distance while rethinking of Alfred’s words. She could hear the cheers coming from the people below, their loud mannerisms being colloquial to the raven haired princess. No doubt that Ivar boasted over his victory and condescending his two older brothers. Not wanting to be a part of a conversation that was likely to go south, she opted to spend the day to herself, relishing in the solace and comfort it gives.

But, little did she know, the very plan that Ivar had devised in order to win over his brothers, had gone south in the end. It was giving the older ones more doubt on the youngest brother. It was starting to break their strings. While she was too occupied with her thoughts, Hvitserk poked his head up and climbed to join her, taking a seat next to her. “Are you waiting for prince charming, ravnprinsesse?” Recognizing the timbre in his tone and the nickname, a small smile crept up, as she still did not avert her gaze.

“I got a prince. I guess you could say he’s charming in his own way.”

“Any possibility that he could be beaten by anyone? Maybe a formidable opponent?” His random question made her chuckle, which was a boost to his ego. Making the Russian princess laugh was not a normal occurrence and it’s something they actually take in consideration. An achievement to the flaxen haired prince. She hummed and shrugged casually, dismissing the light joke.

“Did you two fight with Ivar again?”

That had automatically strike Hvitserk to go into a full on defense mode, following the accusatory tone lacing his wife. “What is that supposed to mean. If anything, it’s Ivar who’s relentlessly picking fights with his older brothers,” he scoffed, crossing his arms as he huffed in the cold air.

“I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything, Hvitserk. I was just asking. Ubbe and him are tense these days. Ever since the first attack on York. I’m guessing it’s because of Sigurd’s death. It doesn’t help the manner of death placated on him too. Axed by his own brother.” Her tone was all too calming, it was one of the things Ivar was actually worried over. No one really knew what goes into her head. “He’s being impartial.”

“Ivar flaunts over his victory and I’ll be frank, it’s not really something we like seeing. Ubbe suggested that we should go ahead the road of peace. He wanted to make a deal with the Saxons.” Erika, who was highly intrigued by what he was saying, turned her face around to meet him.

“What do you mean?”

“Ubbe wants us to stop fighting and go claim the lands that were given to us by King Ecbert.” The Russian only nodded in response and stared at the space again. Silence ensued over them and she tilted her head to the side, questioning the prince what he was going to ask her. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“I’m probably biased, as Ivar would say.”

“That’s Ivar. I don’t care, you’re my wife. I want to hear your opinion, and so does Ubbe. You’re experienced, Erika. You know things in some ways others don’t. That’s why the Saxons treasured you.”

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she scowled at the prince. “They like me because I’m actually a decent likable person to be around. They treat me like a person, instead of a thing.” Briefly apologizing for her sudden outburst, she resumed her talk. “But, if it was up to me, I do think Ubbe is wise to want all the fightings to stop and propose peace. That’s a high road into the new world you have to be willing to take. Co-existing is a thing every people needed to learn. Even the Saxons. However, it’s also likely that Ubbe will be rebuked by Aethelwulf. He’s a prideful person. Especially given their defeat today. It probably scratched his ego. But it is still possible if Ubbe is willing to risk it.”

“Things are so difficult,” he mumbled and she snickered lightly before taking his hand into hers.

“Nothing is meant to be easy, love. Surely, someone’s taught you that.” Within seconds, she was engulfed with a back hug from Hvitserk, who placed his chin above her head. It was comfortable. He only hummed and tightened his embrace around her, to which she gladly returned by caressing his hands as she leaned against him.

The two stared at the sky, both filled with questions differing from each other. But they don’t know that, neither do they need to. One thing was sure, the married couple was investing everything into making the said relationship work and it has been progressing splendidly over the period. She would never admit it, but Erika grew to like and hold a mutual attraction towards Hvitserk. Hvitserk, the same. Given, the two divulged in each other’s presence every night ever since, but they were married, so it wasn’t really an abnormal thing. What’s important, was that the gesture was sincere.

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Following Ubbe and Ivar's untimely fallout, she sided with Ubbe when it comes to peace and solidarity. She wanted the bloodshed to stop, more than anyone. Especially, since it was against her now former friend. It's also a hit close to home. She was sleeping just across Hvitserk, on the floor, when she could feel her body being shook awake by someone. Groaning slightly, she almost cut Hvitserk. Taking the dagger from her hold, he placed it down aside and told her to get up. With no other explanation given, the flaxen haired prince took his vest and sword with him as he followed Ubbe out. Mumbling a few incoherent words to herself, she got up and dragged her sword and outerwear with her as she trailed behind her husband.

Once she got outside, she saw Ubbe with horses ready. Still not understanding the situation, she wondered what the elder Ragnarsson was planning but went along with it. It wasn't her place to question, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to anyways. Hvitserk helped her mount her horse as he got up his. The gates were opened and a small party was led by Ubbe.

Halfway into their journey, she glanced over to Hvitserk, who was riding next to her. “Where are we going? Where is your brother taking us to,” she mumbled groggily. Her conspicuous self has not yet resurface due to her sleepiness. She was actually quite tired today. If it wasn't due to the tight grip she had on the reins, she probably would've fell after the first two minutes mounting her horse.

“He wanted to propose peace, remember.” And suddenly all that sleepiness was washed off and replaced with uncertainty.

“Are you sure? Is that where we're going then? The Saxons’ camp?” Gone was the sleepy princess. What's left is the uncertain and nervous princess. Given her current predicament on things, it was probably not the best reunion she would hope for.

Soon, they arrived just outside the perimeter of the camp. They left the rest of the party in the woods while only the three of them advanced. At first, Erika wasn't sure if she wanted to meet them but she figured she was their best chance and shot at securing any deals made between the two parties. That is, considering Ecbert was right, and that Aethelwulf would forgive her any day, no matter how high and deep her betrayal and treachery went. She got off her horse and made her way to the tent, trailing behind the two brothers.

There, Aethelwulf, Bishop Heahmund and Alfred was present to oversee their ‘deal’. Taking a reluctant seat next to Ubbe, she tried her best not to look Aethelwulf in the face. She couldn't bear it. She didn't have the courage to do so. “Why are you here.” The King's booming voice made itself known to their companion.

The entire time, they spoke of possibilities and chances to reach an accord where both parties can be at peace finally. With her facing the table and fiddling with her fingers. “And why should we accept such offer from you? You attacked us.” The room was tense and the raven haired princess could take it no more.

“He has every reason to do so. It was his right. Your father handed Ragnar over to Aelle to be executed. Therefore, he aided and abetted in his death, despite it being indirect. If your father was murdered with brutality, would you not wish revenge over the perpetrators?” The sudden question from the princess made the Saxon King silent. “With that being said, it is said and done. It has happened. The sons of Ragnar have exacted their revenge as planned and both Kings are dead. But let us not dwell in the past. Their actions had resulted their ends. Let us not be another example of that. We are better than this. We are a new generation birthed to shape the world into a better place than before. We should not stretch our standards like our predecessors. Prince Ubbe came with a sincere heart, hoping for peace. Should you not be the better person and take it? They have nothing to lose. But you, you have everything to lose. You've lived in exile after your defeat the first time, Aethelwulf. Do not burden your people with another. Do this for your sons, by the very least,” she exclaimed. The desperation for solidarity was evident in her voice.

Alfred was smiling at her. Hvitserk had a proud look on his face, to see how well-spoken his wife truly is, living up to her status and reputation. Bishop Heahmund had a certain air to him that offered her respect. Then, there's Aethelwulf, who was in the mix of being proud of how far she's become, and the tense tides on actually accepting the said offer. “I think we should be the better one and accept their offer.” Alfred spoke up.

“They have no legality. My father had no rights to give the lands of East Anglia. He was no longer King-”

“Yes, but you are now King aren't you? Show them how generous you are, father.”

The start of Alfred's statesmanship flickered and Erika couldn't help but to notice the dimming light that was slowly kindling in him. Proud was an understatement. “Alright then..one condition.” Looking up to finally meet his eyes, she saw her friend looking back to her. “She stays here.” That was enough for Hvitserk to start retaliating. Seeing how it could render their deal useless if this kept going, she stood up.

“I will stay, per your bidding.” Hvitserk came to her side and told her she didn't have to, for they cannot make her since she is her own person with her own degree of status. Smiling softly at her caring spouse, she took a hold of his hand and kissed his knuckles. “I am doing it out of my free will, Hvitserk. It's better this way. Don't worry, I'll find you again somehow,” she reassured and he sighed in defeat, knowing he cannot truly convince her otherwise. When Erika has made her mind up, it was almost impossible to change it. He kissed her forehead and hugged her.

The scene before him made the Saxon King felt like there was a bile on the way up to his throat. He was glad Erika was back now, but he never thought she was starting to even like her ‘husband'. Either that, or she was one hell of an actress. He hoped the latter. “Alfred, take her with you..” With that, she left the two princes to deal with the King and Bishop Heahmund, as she followed the younger prince out of the tent.

Alfred led her to a tent, to which when she entered, was his own. He shared the tent with Aethelred, who was laid on his bed place. He tried to get up but she told him it was no need. Making her way to him, she took a seat at the side before examining his injury. “My aim has improved by a mile, so much your father would be proud. Though I can't say he'll be much of that proud when he finds out I tested the aiming theory on his own firstborn son.” Her fingers ghosted over Aethelred's shoulder.

“You were the one who shot me?” The disbelief colouring him was truly hilarious, it made the princess bit her lip and gave him an impish grin.

“So sorry about that. It was the only way I know your father would intervene and pull you out. You needed to retreat. Better a defeat than a death.” She shrugged and brushed over his hair.

While she spent her time talking to the two princes, they were interrupted by a presence gracing the tent. It was their father, Aethelwulf. Standing from her spot, she tilted her head to the side slightly as a questionable reaction was derived from her. “How did it go?” When Aethelwulf did not answer her, she squinted her eyes in response. Something was wrong. “Aethelwulf.. What did you do.” Once again, she received no answer from the Saxon King. She went out her way to go outside and search for the two brothers when Aethelwulf tried to stop her. “You let go of me this instance!”

The last thing she saw was the sight of soldiers laughing towards one direction, where Hvitserk and Ubbe were running off in distance. “Where are they going? Why are they leaving me?” Her long time friend came from behind, standing next to her.

“They didn't leave you.. I forced them to do it. There is no deal. And Heahmund humiliated them per say.” That had caused the princess to fume in anger as she flailed her arms around in distress, a sight to which Alfred, Aethelred, Judith, Heahmund and the other soldiers bear witness to.

“This is why I should have never left you to deal with them alone. You cannot keep me here forever, Aethelwulf! I am Hvitserk's wife. Legally and lawfully right. Even you cannot undo that,” she stressed her words and Aethelwulf who looked down said nothing, leaving her to vent her frustrations elsewhere as she left him.

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#hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #vikings #Bjorn Ironside #ivar the boneless #ivar #ubbe #peirasmós

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 13 : Awful Incursions

She was still upset that they had opted to attack York while the residents were celebrating for what was supposed to be glorious day. Little did they know, they'll end up bathing themselves in blood and the cheers of happiness will soon turn into that of a scream. Hvitserk had spent his nights with his wife for the past two days. So when Hvitserk asked her why she was so gloomy the morning, she scowled at the prince, which earned both his hands up held in defense for even asking such a stupid question. He apologized for asking such question briefly before pecking her forehead and made his way to his tent to get properly dressed. No doubt everyone was excited to raid the town. It was supposed to be defenseless today.

Wrapping her palm with a silk cloth, it was a tradition she's grown to love since a child. It signified their dignity. If vikings grew their hair and braided them to show their dominance and power, the Rus’ people used to tie a cloth around their palm up to their arms. Similar to that of a ribbon tied to the jouster during a tourney. She wondered if one day she would braid her hair like them, all these time the braids in her hair were simple ones, with the purpose of adorning what was left to decorate her status. Eron greeted her as he asked her, permission, to come inside her tent.

“Come in.”

He was all ready and equipped for the raid, one he no doubt had a distaste over, considering they chose the most horrible day to attack a church. Erika's dark locks were tied into a simple French braid, and completed her look by adorning herself with the outerwear of the armor. Their armor had nothing against the Saxons; who literally wore metal and brass to protect themselves in defense. They had the source better too. But the Russian army, they were more accustomed to both ways of the old and new. They welcome death like their predecessors, the Rus’ Vikings; Varangians. But they also equipped the way Roman built their offenses, courtesy of her mother being a Byzantine princess, that surely influenced their lands when they conquered a part of Russia.

They fought for honour and dignity. Which came to be a topic that was highly belittled by the Northmen. The tall Russian lieutenant handed her a bunch of stringed up silver necklaces. There were about a dozen of them or so. It was the leaders from each part of the army she had brought with them. Up from the vanguard leader to the archers. It was a ritual they do every morning before marching to a battle they might not survive. Smiling upon the male, the raven haired princess took the necklaces and kept it with her in a box near her bed.

“Come on.. They're probably grumpy from waiting for us.” Pushing the male to go out, Eron only chuckled before allowing his commander to walk out first.

The moment she stepped outside, she was greeted by Hvitserk who had been waiting for her. His grip on his vest tightened as he grinned in delight. Despite this raid today being a disrespectful thing for her, she couldn't help but to let a smile curve itself when she catches the glimpse of her husband happy. What wife wouldn't want that? Everyone wanted a blissful marriage and she wasn't one to be exempted.

“You look delightful,” she commented dryly and Hvitserk responded by shrugging absentmindedly. She walked alongside him with Eron following behind her with a few more soldiers trailing.

Turning to face the female, the latter almost halted in his steps but only turned his back against the road and walked backwards so he could converse with her instead. “I heard you mumbling a few words with your lieutenant. Was it Latin?,” he asked. Erika nodded.

“Why do you ask? Did it pique your interest that much? I thought you heard me speak in Latin every time I prayed. Careful Hvitserk, one would mistake you as a stalker.” The tender jest she had thrown towards his direction made the Ragnarsson snort.

“You are my wife. If anyone is keeping an eye on you, it should be me.” Rolling his eyes, he then asked what he wanted to ask. “What did you say, anyways. It sounded different than your prayers.”

Quirking her eyebrows up in surprise, she was slightly taken aback by the question. “You memorized my prayers?” Eron, who heard the conversation shook his head and said something towards her in Russian that made her snicker. “It was a mix between Latin and Greek, if you want to know. I was praying for my soldiers to come back safe and sound. Every time we were going off to a battle, may it be as small as solving a robbing party or even a theft case, we leave our lives at the behest of our merciful Lord.”

“When they were elected to be included in the army, each of the soldiers were given a silver necklace. It held their name and date of birth. Before we march, they would give the necklaces to their superiors, i.e. the leaders. And their leaders would give it to their commander. That's me. The commander would usually give it to the member of royalty that was leading but since I am their princess and their commander, both falls to me. Should there be any fallen, we would know who they were. A soldier's dreadful nightmare will always be to die and be forgotten. This way, no one will be forgotten. We'll have the right to hold a proper burial and give them a marked grave with their identity intact.” It seems to Hvitserk, that she was surprising them more and more every day.

No wonder their soldiers are devastatingly loyal. They were offered more than they could want and we're treated with utmost respect. Maybe they should take a page out of that book too. God(s) know how much loyalty is in a short supply these days.

Their conversation earlier had taken up the time, so much they didn't even realize the doors were before them just a few meters away from them. Sighing to herself, she turned to face Eron, who only looked down and had a solemn look. They were waiting for the doors to be opened by Ubbe and the others that infiltrated the town from inside using the way back. Soon enough, the doors were left ajar by the second eldest Ragnarsson, enabling the others to come rushing in and begin their raid. The cheers and war cries hollering around almost made it seem twice overwhelming than it originally should. Still standing by her side, Eron wanted to make sure everything was well, so his commander would not be forced to take a measure where she needed to slay anyone. Most of the people were huddled up in the church, no doubt praying to their Lord.

The golden cross necklace that hung lowly around her neck suddenly felt heavy for the princess to carry. She halted on her steps, and stared at the ground beneath them. Her boots were muddled up and tainted with the mud due to the wet pavement. She would rather see it wet with mud rather than blood. Her trustworthy lieutenant stopped and stood in front of Erika, who was then forced to look at him. A concerning look made its front and he asked the princess if she was okay or not. Clearly, she wasn't. But then again, we don't always get what we want.

“I'm fine. I just need a moment.” A moment that did not even last long as the doors were barged on by them and one scream was all it needed. One became two, two became dozen and a dozen became dozens. She wasn't sure how many of them were in there but the shrilling screams would not stop and the raven haired Russian had to look away and occupy her head with something else. The sight beholding before her was gruesome. Nuns were screaming as the vikings made it their mission to terrorize every being in the church.

Stepping inside, her breath hitched slightly as she bear witness to the tear stricken women and pleas of help being yelled out every once in a while. She wished this would end soon. From her side, she noticed Ivar crawling like a manic and made his way quickly to the Bishop that was held down by a few. Whatever business he had with the leader of the church, she had no parts in finding out. Ivar hated Christians. He despised them with all his might. From the corner of her eyes, she caught a sight of the Northmen dragging the nuns away. But one had particularly caught her attention; Hvitserk.

The flaxen haired prince had dragged one of them down the stairs by the hair, or rather, headscarf. Watching the scene unfold before her eyes, she marched up to him and a yell of his name was all it took for him to release the woman. “Hvitserk!” The stern look that was present within her facial expression made the prince loosened his grip on the nun. But she was pushed from behind and lost her vision on him. Instead, she found herself straddled by a nun who begged for her to kill her.

“Calm down.” She spoke on Old Saxon. The nun recognized the language and placed both her hands together before trembling in fear, requesting for the Russian to end her quickly as she did not wish to suffer like the unlucky ones. Closing her eyes briefly, Erika lets out a heaved sigh before fluttering them back open, this time with her right hand resting on the hilt of her dagger on the left side of her belt. Unsheathing it from the cover, she kneeled down to the woman's level and placed the other free hand on her shoulder. “Shh.. You're fine.” Without another word uttered, she made a quick and swift slash upon the nun's carotid artery. It was a quick death.

Erika knew she couldn't be saved. So the least she could do is give them a quick death. The blood spurted from her victim's trachea area, staining her outerwear. The latter then made a swift sign of the cross, bidding the nun away. “May God bless your soul.” Her eyes wandered back and forth inside the room, where the stench of dead bodies and copper were mixed together. Scrunching her nose up slightly, she wiped the blood off her dagger using her clothes and was about to find Hvitserk, when she suddenly saw Ivar torturing the Bishop.

She couldn't stop him. Of course, she couldn't. How could she. If the crippled Ragnarsson ended up being very angry, she might find herself to be the replacement or even crucified against anywhere. Ivar was ruthless, that much she never doubted. Eron turned her gaze away from the painful cries of the Bishop, successfully averting her gaze towards the door instead. Then, she heard the cries of a child. “Did you hear that, Eron?” The persistent princess stepped out of his shadows and saw a child standing in the middle of the pile of bodies.

She trudged through and kneeled in front of the boy. “Oh you poor child..” Maybe his parents were killed, she thought. But this child might not survive at the end of the day. Ivar had no problem sacrificing two Saxon boys for a sacrifice, she hardly doubted he'd spare this one. He'd call him a nuisance. Picking the child up, she caught the attention of Ivar, who roared out a command for the dead Bishop to be tied up to the horse's hoofs and be dragged around. It's humiliating enough for his manner of death and now he wishes to show the aftermath? Truly, she can never understand their barbaric ways.

“What is it there you've got with you, Lille Ild.” That caused her to froze in her spot as she slowly turned around to face the cripple. Her eyes were searching wildly for Hvitserk and Ubbe. Eron was by her side, thankfully. Ubbe stood not far from Ivar was at while Hvitserk- Hvitserk was nowhere to be found.

“He's just a child, Ivar.”

Taking the child forcibly from her grasp, Ivar had the two vikings take the child away. “And what were you going to do with it? Hm? Raise it?” That earned her a sewn mouth. Sunking her teeth on her bottom lip, she refrained herself from lashing out purely in anger and went to search for Hvitserk.

“Have you seen Hvitserk?,” was what she has been asking for a while now. But no one paid her any attention. She went back inside the church and saw a figure leaning against the walls, covered with blood from head to toe. Rushing to his aid, she made sure to inspect him for any injury before slumping next to him.

“I hope this was worth it.”

Only silence ensued.

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Erika spent the entire evening walking around the buildings in the town, inspecting every nook and corner of the recently raided town. She would rather isolate herself away from all the screams and wails from the people that were not yet killed. It wasn't as if they would be alive for long. While she was walking down the stone pavement, she felt someone following her from a corner, and backed away slightly as she then unsheathed her sword; pointing the sharp end of her edged weapon towards the intruder. It only turned out to be Eron.

Sighing to herself, she realized she had let the paranoia overpower her again. Slowly reverting her sword back onto its sheath, she scowled at her lieutenant. “You should know better than to sneak up on me, Eron. I really did sharpen my sword before coming here today, if I had placed anymore pressure, I would've made a cut on your femoral artery.” In a hushed tone, the raven haired woman hit his shoulder, which only earned a snicker from the taller male.

“It's good practice, isn't it? Instead of scowling, you should be thanking me, princess,” he heated playfully and trailed behind her as she walked away down the alley, quickly catching up to his superior. “Everyone's looking for you. You've been gone for a while.”

Snorting in response, the pessimist that is Erikaterina turned her head to face her friend and shook her head, clicking her tongue a few times. “That's a surprise. Thought no one will ever notice my absence. There goes my chance in fleeing.”

“You're not just a bad liar, you're also incompetent and truly oblivious in making jokes, Rika.” That was the first time since a while that Eron had used his nickname on her. The two were childhood friends; him being one of the few companions she had growing up together in Wessex. She could trust him with her life. And that was saying something. “You make horrible ones.”

“Maybe it's because it wasn't meant to be a joke most of the time.”

The Russian born princess cherished her freedom and her free will. She was only stoic and conservative due to her upbringing. In fact, she enjoyed plenty of hobbies that of horse riding, archery, sewing and writing. Aethelwulf once praised her hand written letter being very elegant and sophisticated looking. So much that the letter she had sent to her uncle, Michael III, the Byzantine Emperor; sent over a reply with words of encouragement. There was always a trademark somewhere that signified her writing. Of course, she hasn't had the time to implement every aspect of her liking in her vicinity.

Emerging from the dark shadows of the alley, she returned to the center of the town with Eron trailing behind her. She saw Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar sitting by the church, quenching their thirst away. “There were hidden tunnels,” she quipped simply, interrupting the intensity being given by both Ivar and Ubbe respectively. Hvitserk almost thanked her for being there to break the awkward tension that rises up each second.

“What?”

“When I was inspecting the alleyways, I saw an entrance underneath that leads to a tunnel.. Likely into a sewer. I have not checked it out yet. Just thought you should have the honour.” She shrugged as she herself took the cup from Hvitserk's grasp, finishing whatever content that was within it. “The architecture reminds me a lot of the Romans.” That explains how tricky it was to navigate her way through the maze-like alleys. “You can go check them out. I'll be out.. Riding for some fresh air.”

But just when she was about to leave, she was halted by the sudden approach of Hvitserk's voice. “It's too dangerous to ride out there alone. They'll know the town fell..”

“I'll have Eron accompany me, don't worry. I'll be back before dark.” Without sparing so much a glance nor a reassuring glance, she left in a hurry. Dragging the reins from her mare, she mounted herself up the saddle and clicked her tongue, urging the majestic white creature to go forward. The fresh whiff of the cold air gave the princess a fleeting moment of euphoria itself. Soon enough, a dark brown horse marched up next to her, the owner being her own trusted friend. “Don't you think you're being too harsh to him?”

As the fiery spirit kindled itself within her, Erika squinted her eyes in confusion while facing her childhood friend. “You've been with them for less than two months and you have already fallen in love with the princes? It took you earlier than I expected.”

“I didn't mean anything by that. But I thought Hvitserk and you are progressing. I want to see you happy, Rika. We all do. You're all Novgorod has left after your brother. I wish you would stop acting like no one's out to look out for you.” Despite being a few years older than the younger princess, Eron filled most of the time being very well-spoken and offered her counsel when needed.

“I didn't say that too. I'm still growing, aren't I? Things have been hard lately.. I needed some time to get used to it. One day I find myself betraying my friend, the next I'm married to his enemy's party. I'm surprised if he decided to spare me afterwards.” Scoffing rather impetuously, she always hated when she needed to choose a side. What's stopping from one betraying the other? Noticing she still had his necklace, she threw the silver trinket to his chest and huffed before beckoning for her horse to move a bit faster.

The latter offered his moment of curiosity and they both rode their horses in silence. Until he noticed a few movements by the trees not far off from where they were. “11 o clock, your left side,” he warned, his free hand making its way to his belt where his daggers and sword were kept.

“A scout. Keep your hands free, Eron. Let's get back.” A moment of realization hits Erika as she noticed the scout to bear familiar colors. She swore she saw the colors somewhere, once. While riding back to the town, it was only then that she remembered the signature signet adorning the scout's armor.

Lord Cuthred.

So the first thing she does when she returned, was marching up to the room where the brothers were lounging at. “I saw a scout in the woods. The colors he wore.. And the signature signet calls only one person I know. Lord Cuthred. He's from Sherborne.” The impending mumble that was followed by a pregnant silence however, indicated she was thinking of something.

“What is it? What are you thinking?” Ubbe urged.

“I'm just thinking of the scout. Lord Cuthred is from Sherborne. That's in Dorset, which is in the south west side of England. We are far up north, how could they know where we are already? I implore you to take heavy caution that they might already have a force waiting somewhere. They probably got the word of Wessex's defeat.” Which could mean that Aethelwulf could regroup. A part of her was relieved while the other part was worried on the possible outcome.

“Seems like we're not done fighting after all.” Ivar chuckled and the day passed quickly with them discussing their future plans, in case the Saxons regrouped and lead an attack on them. They had opted since York was heavily fortified, it was better to strike defense but Ivar had other plans in mind.

She listened to every detail intently, and was thoroughly amazed by the lengths he had solidified in the planning. It was all but suggestions but once carried out, would equal one of a victory. He was a growing strategist. For such a ruthless person to also possess a skill set of mindful intelligence? That frightens her. Nevertheless, the raven haired princess participated in the smooth and languid decorum of battle. Finding her to fit her namesake, Ivar decided to put Erika in charge for one that involves a lot of show. Fire.

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A week passed and she had spent most of her time being cooped up in a room, planning the strikes where her part will take their respective spots. Everything was going according to the plan, although she couldn't say the same to the brothers. Apparently, Ubbe and Ivar were growing very tense with each other. First, the youngest Ragnarsson opted for bodyguards and planned a few matters on his own without discussing or consulting with his two older brothers. That gesture had irked the second eldest, Ubbe and annoyed a great amount from Hvitserk just as well.

Her relationship with Hvitserk was always on the count. She basked in the warmth he exuded and he does the same to her. Little by little, they learned more about one another. Like Eron would say, it was a progressive state.

She was woken up early this morning by the crippled brother himself when he told her to come with him. Despite her groggy state, she followed him afterwards. They settled in a tower, where Hvitserk and Ubbe then joined them shortly. Leaning against the wall, she followed Ivar's gaze and had to squint her eyes to detect the movements within the trees. There were quite a few. Have they come? From the corner of her eye, she saw them breaking into the fortified town thru the access of the west walls. They had made sure to leave them unattended in order to trap them. Even Erika had to admit that part of the plan was a brilliant tactic thought out.

However, her hazel hues twitched slightly when she caught the sight of Aethelwulf. That was not all. He had two younger males by his side. Two of which she saw to it to be so familiar. His sons. Her whole stature was rigid and tense. Clenching her jaw as she gritted her teeth silently, she muttered profanities under her breath as Ivar mocked her. Of course, the cripple would not miss out on this session. “He's brought his sons. What are you going to do, Lille Ild, hm? Might as well slaughter the sheep with the herd all at once. You know, to make sure they stay down.” The malicious remark let out by him left her no attention.

Her eyes were fixed on Aethelred and Alfred. How could he bring them with him. If Erika was in another situation at the moment, the frustrated woman would've slapped some sense into him. How did this even pass Judith's watchful hawk eyes. To his other side was a man she recognized from a few years ago. Bishop Heahmund. The Bishop of Sherborne. One that is known infamously for his skills. A Bishop Warrior, they dubbed him. A title that lived up to the standards too. She has never witnessed him fighting before, but from the stories that were told, it affirmed all her curiosity and put it all to rest.

“Come on.” Ubbe beckoned for them to get down to their respective positions. Noticing how his younger brother stood idly by beside Erika who still had her gaze glued to the the Saxon prince, he called him again. “Hvitserk.”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, the flaxen haired prince patted it and beckoned for her to follow him just as well. “Come on.” And she followed both brothers down the stairs, trailing behind her husband with only one thing in her mind. How much she is going to kill Aethelwulf again and again. Now how exactly is she going to keep the Saxon princes safe and sound while battling them?

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#hvitserk x oc #Hvitserk #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #Bjorn Ironside #ubbe #peirasmós

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Repost if this is true

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 12 : Serendipitous Turn

A few days passed and Erika knew it was only time that would tell when Aethelwulf would regroup their forces and come intervening. Which was the reason Ivar wanted to make use of his new plan and enact it as soon as possible. So today they were going to scout around to see any possible chances that will be a stick in their plan. She followed them and saw the three brothers lying by the grass, and joined them.

“You're a bona fide expert when it comes to disappearing, I swear,” she mumbled and propped herself next to Ubbe. “What are you looking out for. The city is heavily fortified in some places but it's not guarded tightly, which means you'll be able to break in easily. But there's also a prospect.. Where they realized what was happening and started using those walls to their advantage and shoot all of you down.” Shrugging to herself, Hvitserk stared at her with his mouth agape.

“And you're a really ‘bona fide expert' when it comes to reassuring. Your bedside manner is very abysmal, are you even a princess?” The flaxen haired prince spoke and it made the princess roll her eyes, dictating him to be so overly dramatic.

“Father told me something. We should attack when they are all piled up in one place. Surely they would celebrate their Saint's day. We shall attack then. The security will not be heavily implied and will leave the walls unguarded.” Ivar then averted his gaze to her and she scowled at the youngest Ragnarsson, before crossing both her arms.

“No.”

“Come on, ravnprinsesse. Surely you must know when those days are-” The nickname Hvitserk used on her made its comeback and she had to refrain herself from snapping. How could they think so low of her? To divulge in them with those secrets. Sacred unanimity, honestly.

“I said no, Hvitserk. If you know me by the least, you know I would never talk lightly about matters that concerned my religion. I have made my decision-” standing up from her spot, she dusted all the leaves and dirt off her before giving them a look that says ‘no way in hell'. “-And my decision is final. Good day, boys.” With that, the raven haired Russian huffed and walked back to the camp, leaving the three brothers to their own agenda.

“That girl is surprisingly hard to persuade..” Ivar huffed, clearly not liking the ordeal outcome, which made Hvitserk and Ubbe chortle in laughter. “What?”

“She's Erika, brother. Don't expect her to be Freyja if you are treating her like she's nothing more than an informant. As a woman and princess, she has her own pride. Her handmaiden said something about her fatal flaw being hubris; which meant pride. Even so, she's not going to give up so easily.” Hvitserk mused. Ubbe shook his head and patted his younger brother's shoulder.

“Ah. You do have a type, brother. They're all crazy.” Hvitserk then threw a tree bark at Ivar's direction.

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By the time the three brothers returned, she wondered how Ivar's plans were going about and decided to ask Hvitserk. With all honesty, only Ubbe could actually hold a proper conversation with the Russian. She had nothing against her own husband, no. But it's more likely to find them bickering over petty things too. Not as worse as Sigurd and Ivar's case. But just as much. Slightly.

She wanted Hvitserk to understand her position in all of this. Whilst it's clear where she stands and where her loyalty lies, she did not have an easy way to correlate her way through all of it. Being in a dilemma seemed to be part of her daily routine nowadays. She kept thinking of her betrayal towards the Saxon kingdom. Hvitserk had a difficult time trying to understand her due to his beliefs. And she wished for him to develop a small sense of understanding when it comes to her. She needed time.

Sauntering her way towards Hvitserk who was eating, she took a seat in front of him, propping both her hands on the table as she stared at the flaxen haired prince that was before her eyes. “What happened after I left? Ivar seemed delightful and I don't want to rain on his parade nor bother myself with such extent to know what he planned, but I still want to know what he's planning. So, what did you three discussed?” It was clear with the tone she had equipped, that the princess was not going to take no for an answer. Hvitserk and the others saw her to be very persistent and persuasive almost all the time.

It was futile to escape her question. He placed the knife on his side before clearing his throat. “He wanted to attack during the time the Saxons celebrating one of their Saint's days. Which is in thr-” Before he had the opportunity to finish his sentence, she had already cut him off with a grunt.

“Three days time. Of course Ivar the Boneless would take pride in attacking on that day.” Sighing to herself, Hvitserk swore he heard her mumble what seemed to be words or profanities under her breath in her mother tongue. “And how exactly did you even know when we would be celebrating the day? I don't suppose he went all the way to kidnap someone from the city.” When Hvitserk said nothing, it only confirmed her suspicions and Erika gaped. “For real?”

“He didn't exactly kidnap them from the city. They were fishing at the stream. Two boys.” He shrugged and Erika clicked her tongue before asking further.

“And where are they now? They couldn't possibly be spared..” Poor boys.

“Not yet. They're being prepped for the sacrifice.” Looking at the prince incredulously, she swore her eyes twitched slightly at the mention of it.

“Sacrifice? You're using the two poor kids as sacrifice for the upcoming attack? Oh you vikings..” Shaking her head in disbelief, she left the prince to his food and entered her tent, where Irena then asked her what was wrong. The annoyed princess expressed her distress over the matters and Irena could only assure her it will get easier.

“No, Irena. It will never get easier.”

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When night came to grace them with its presence, she was sitting in the main tent, with the others. Now, she's actually missing Bjorn. Twiddling with her necklace, she felt the stare Ivar was giving her for the past few minutes. Somehow, she always felt uncomfortable when he would stare at her. Glaring is inevitable when it comes to both of them so it was a usual manner; almost colloquial, but staring, not so much.

“You do realize by staring at me, I won't suddenly fall down and die, right?” That statement caught him off surprise and huffed before averting his gaze.

After finishing their dinner, she excused herself back to her tent where she untied her ties around her dark locks that was almost an identical resemblance to the dark night that plagued them every day. It befitted her pale complexion. Her eyes were bright and her hair was dark. Her complexion was pale and bright but her voice slightly husky. It contrasts each trait she had. Up to her personality where the positive outwit the negative. Erika took the hairbrush on the table before began brushing her locks into place. That was until she was interrupted by a presence.

A presence she did not notice and would have probably had a heart attack over.

“You really should start to say your manners before entering, Ivar. One day I might suffer a heart attack. I would like to believe I won't die from that so early in my age. Spare me that, at least.” The crippled brother held both his hands in defense before leaning against the post while watching his sister-in-law brushing her hair. “I know you did not come here just to be a good and decent brother-in-law. So, pray tell. What are you doing here?”

Ivar shrugged but decided not to play around the bushes, despite knowing fully well it was the very thing that annoyed her. “You disapproved.”

“You're going to have to be more specific when stating such accusations, Ivar. But yes, I do disapprove a lot of things. It's my way of lifestyle, I'm guessing.” Ivar couldn't help but to bite his bottom lip, seeing the snarky tone that underlined her words. There wasn't a time where he couldn't relate to her, surprisingly.

Yes, the two were quite similar to each other. Even if they would not acknowledge it. But one thing is for sure, both craved the sense of belonging and love given by others. They wanted to be loved but found it hard to achieve such sentiment because of how it was. But contrary to her belief, unlike Ivar, Erika was loved by a lot. One of those being Aethelwulf, and his sons Aethelred and Alfred. Even Ecbert loved her. Or else, he would not invest in her proper upbringing. Her younger brother loved her just as well, despite the two having differing opinions on almost everything. Even Sigurd liked her company and they have all come to terms that she is now their sister-in-law. All except Ivar. He's a complicated case. But so was Hvitserk; who would not say a word about their relationship.

Erika wanted to make it work. Truly, she does. But the lack of enthusiasm or energy from the latter made her frustrated and eventually resulted in her venting her anger towards him. The raven haired woman did not wish to live her entire life in an unloved marriage, despite the front being no more than a matrimonial tie for an alliance between her brother and Bjorn. But she never actually noticed all the care she's been given. She had a hard time juggling between personal and professional front.

“I shouldn't be surprised that you would disapprove of the two boys being our sacrifice. That was the reason you kept to yourself in your tent for the entire evening. But you should get used to it. It's your life now.”

“I don't have to get used to it, Ivar. What I have to do is accept it. And I have. But a child does not become a great warrior in a fortnight. Neither does an apple fall down from the tree in a day. Things like these, they take time. I hope you would be willing to offer me at least that.” From everything that has happened, most of them were pushed onto her plate altogether without any notice being given beforehand. And now she was left to pick it up one by one. The foreign princess however, hoped that one day she will able to salvage what was left of her friendship with Aethelwulf.

A princess can hope, can she not?

“Do you think I'm greedy? For wanting what's best for our people? Who is now also your people?” The sudden change of tone within Ivar and the manner of such question being forwarded towards her caused the princess to stop brushing her hair and placed it aside before turning to face him.

“No. I suppose you are not. Things don't always go accordingly. Sometimes, we needed to accept that. Like it or not, power keeps you on the top. And that seemed to be the only thing that is holding you together. Other than your bond with your brothers.” Following the scoff Ivar had sent her way, she gave him a look that surprisingly shuts him up. “You are lucky to have such siblings, Ivar. You said you were loved. Maybe that's because you never allow yourself to be loved. You think it's an impossible concept for someone like you. I would love to have your brothers as mine, if we're being honest. I grew up being the firstborn, burdened with duties I shouldn't even take up until I was at least 12. But no, I had to flee my own homeland at 6 following the assassination of my parents, and I had to leave my two year old brother in the care of others. I spent my whole life running. It's exhausting. Allow yourself to be loved and you'll find it in you, one day, that it's there. Somewhere.”

The soft tone was almost alluring to him. He was enchanted and enthralled by her voice and the manner she used in it. It reminded him of his mother, who always reassured him everything was going to be alright. Truthfully, he envied her. When she first came to Kattegat, despite being a thrall at first, she never let anyone put her down. Her pride stayed on top and it preserved her. She was willing to live her life there despite all the torturous experiences she had the chance to undergo. And he admired that. When Hvitserk married her, he actually preferred the fact that she was going to stay with them and that means he had company. He knew just how fragile she is. How her positiveness outwit the negativeness. How her compassion will always find its time to come out.

“I never meant to kill Sigurd. Regardless of what you people think, I loved him. He was my brother,” he croaked out and for a while, Erika thought she might have been too harsh on him. But she gave them when it's due. Always. But it also did not mean everyone had to tolerate them. “I never meant.. To kill my own flesh and blood.��

“I know. It's hard to accept it, but eventually you'll find it in yourself to reprimand yourself. It's always okay if others could not do the same, because they don't actually know you. But what's important to keep going, is not to regret it. What's the use of regretting it if you could nothing about it? Would regretting return Sigurd to the land of living? It's likely others will use that against you. I would. But if you don't want to lose your temper like that again, I suggest you control it. Remember Ivar, an apple doesn't fall down the tree in a day. And a child doesn't become a great warrior in a fortnight. Things like these takes time.”

It was surprising to see the two talking heartfelt things to each other, considering their endless banter. But maybe the reason why they bickered was because they were the two most alike to each other. Unbeknownst to the two of them, Hvitserk stood outside the tent, eavesdropping on their conversation. He was originally going to apologize to Erika after being reminded by Ubbe. But he couldn't help but to stop and hear the two of them talk. He shouldn't, but he wanted to know what was going on with the both of them. In all honesty, Hvitserk wasn't sure what he was feeling towards the foreign princess. There were times when he wanted to just get mad at her for her tolerance issues but sometimes, he couldn't bring himself to actually show it in front of her. The others became the place he vent his anger to. But never her. His brothers thought it was a smart move that he coordinated due to the level of importance she currently holds over them now.

Like how he disliked Eron gracing his presence with Erika, even though the male was obviously the only confidant that would not betray her, he didn't like the thought of Ivar closing himself with her either. Was it jealousy? He wasn't sure. The middle son had been a ladies man for as long as they could remember. Sleeping around was a habit of his and there wasn't a single flaw stopping him from continuing it. Other than the oath he swore to Erika. Whilst the vikings allowed polygamous relationships, he was sure the raven haired beauty did not want him bringing home other sets of children. He wasn't about to be like his father, no.

Hearing the rustling of the leaves underneath, he hid himself as he watched his youngest brother crawl outside and made his way to his own tent not far off from hers. After making sure the coast were clear, he pushed the tent's cloth aside as he stepped in. “What now, if you are expecting another motivational pep talk, don't bother asking because I don't like to repeat what I've said twice-” When she turned around to face the intruder, she blinked her eyes a few times, taking in the form of the male before her. It wasn't Ivar. “Hvitserk.. Why did you come?” Her snarky tone fell down a notch into a much softer and smoother one. His brothers weren't the only one who found her manner of speech alluring. He did too.

How could he not? Erika never had an accent when it comes to speaking any languages. Due to growing up her entire life in Wessex, she developed a Saxon accent whenever she spoke English. And he was always so fascinated to hear her speak their language when it was given that she learnt them for a reason. But slowly returning to her Russian roots, there was slight Russian tinge to her words. It was mildly audible but it's there. She could read a story and he was sure anyone else would fell asleep afterwards. Ubbe jested that she might be a siren in disguise considering how near the seas she lived. But then he reminded himself, sirens were as beautiful as they are deadly. The prince was sure his older brother meant nothing more than a gesture on her voice but there was a double meaning. A double meaning both he and Ivar would actually note to.

Snapping himself out of the trance he was in earlier, he cleared his throat slightly and send her a smile. “Just checking up on you. I saw Ivar crawling out. He didn't look annoyed or angry, did you give him something?” Following the manner of the question given to her, the Russian laughed.

“I wish. But no. I don't have any chamomile to offer him. But I did talk to him regarding something. I would never divulge it with anyone, not even with my husband.” The edge of her eyes twinkled in mischief and delight as she let the words roll off her tongue, subsequently resulting a chuckle from him. “It's very considerate of you to check up on me. But here I am, perfectly intact. So tell me, why are you really here, Hvitserk.” As if having a split persona, her tone launched itself on another pedestal. It was such a contrast.

He stepped forward as her hazel hues would not leave him. Much like a hawk eyeing its prey. Like a falcon who would bite him if he evaded. Ironic. Ubbe called her a falcon one time. But to all of them, she was much more like a phoenix. Magnificent, mysterious, wise, and beautiful, yet sly, calming and deadly. It's scary.

“I really did came to check up on you, ravnprinsesse.” At the mention of her nickname he had given her since the first time he met her, her gaze softened and her posture was no longer in alert nor rigid. “Things have been.. Awkward between us.”

“That's one way to describe it,” she quipped but then bit her lip and mumbled a small apology. “Go on.”

“We promised each other to make this work and everything has been too tense, it took the toll on both of us. I shouldn't ask you to be understanding when I know all of this would be hard for you to take at one look.” Crouching in front of her, Hvitserk lowered himself to her eye level and took a hold of her hands. It was calloused, and that erupted a laughter in him. It was probably due to all the sword wielding. She never liked to involve herself directly in the battle and preferred to be by the sidelines, planning. But it didn't mean that she hasn't made use of her training. “You are my wife, Princess. I know you don't think you belong here. But really, what's belonging? You asked what is home, but you never asked what is the sense of belonging.”

Widening her bright orbs that was illuminated by the moonlight, she felt her lips quivering. “You heard?” He only responded with a playful shrug. “I never pegged you to be the sentimental type, Hvitserk.” She trailed, an amused smile making its way up to her.

How he loved hearing his name from her.

Everything was fast. The fleeting sense of seconds. First, he was staring into her bright doe hues that literally betrayed her fiery self that she has shown everyone, and the next he found himself kissing her. He hovered above her as he took in the sight under him. She was such a small person. Peppering small kisses on the nook of her neck, he accompanied it with words of love, preferably from his own native language. For once, it didn't sound so foreign towards her. Erika placed a hand on one side of his face, caressing it with care and deep with admiration that was showing in her eyes. He took care of her and every touch were tender with love. Maybe the two found their way to establish a stable standing of their relationship. What's more with planting the seed in the soil to make the roots seep in, and grow a beautiful everlasting tree?

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The night passed off quickly, much to both their chagrin. The next morning, Erika found herself tangled up with the sheets covering their bodies. The cold surprisingly did not bother either one of them. Possibly due to their endurance living and growing up in such a cold climate. She desperately wished this could last. She wanted it to last. His consideration had struck something in the hardened woman, and it was slowly melting all the ice down. She would never say it, but she wanted a happy ending. Like any other princesses do.

“You should start addressing me by my name instead of the nicknames I'm sure you have a list for.” Upon hearing the ragged husky voice of her husband, she found herself scrunching her nose in a feigning offense, she refused but told him she'd reconsider.

“But seriously, that's the first thing you had to say to me? Hvitserk, you need a lesson on sorting out your priorities. One day you might forget to say your love and only gave away the bitter wholesome goodbyes instead.” She was replied with a chuckle and a kiss on her head.

Maybe this could work.

Maybe it could be more than just a duty and responsibility.

Just, maybe, she might have a chance at finding love.

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#hvitserk x oc #Hvitserk #vikings #Bjorn Ironside #ubbe #ivar the boneless #ivar #peirasmós

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Jimin’s core strength defies the laws of gravity

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 11 : Daunting Challenges

Sigurd's burial was going to be conducted today. Erika was solemn as the others were, the atmosphere surrounding them were dull and the rain were not helping the current circumstances. Sigurd's body was placed on a boat where the others then placed items for tribute. Apparently since Sigurd had took out the axe in defiance, he died and went to Valhalla like all warriors did. It took Erika a while to understood it but she eventually does. He died a warrior death, in the end. She didn't like how anger took over the youngest Ragnarsson who ended up killing one of his kin. It only showed how predictability wasn't an element she could put above Ivar.

She actually liked Sigurd's company most of the time. He was one of them that actually wanted to gain more knowledge of the new world. For someone who traveled around the world since a young age, doing pilgrimage here and there to gain knowledge. King Ecbert made sure she would grow up a good scholar, and though she wasn't that close to the latter, she was always grateful that he pushed away all the limitations that was placed that one of a woman. Especially princesses like her. It was only then that she actually saw how much she missed Aethelwulf's company and the days she spent in Wessex. She was stuck. She couldn't exactly go anywhere else. She wasn't able to return to Russia until her brother says so, which would probably be non-existent in her dictionary since she now has a husband that is a Viking who lives far off in the North. Not just an ordinary viking too, but just so happens to be a Viking Prince. She also could not return to Sicily, for her dictator of a naval commander, Euphemius would kill her to seize actual power as he destroys the monarchy there. The only reason why she is still alive is because she was protected and learnt how to protect herself while doing so.

However, surprisingly for her, she has not been another victim of poisoning attempts ever since she lived with the vikings. Maybe her enemies gave up. For once, could she truly have a chance at a normal life? As normal as she could as a viking princess at least. Giving Sigurd her own personal prayers, all of them bade his body off to the sea and lit the boat with fire. As the fire made its daunting presence known to them, she turned around to go back to pack their stuff because they were moving out from Wessex and settle down near Repton.

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They had settled down to camp an hour ago and she had made herself comfortable leaning against the post, where Bjorn, Ubbe, Ivar, Hvitserk and Harald were present in the main tent. While she was busy sharpening her dagger, she looked up to meet Ivar's slightly glossy eyes when they were talking about Sigurd's unfortunate end. Here they go again. It was almost a week ago and they are still reminiscing it. It wasn't that they should not have done that, but sometimes she was growing tired and tedious of their sibling banter. Yes, it was a given that Ivar murdered his older brother, Sigurd. But there was no point in regretting it and made it out to be as if something could be done to change it.

“I know what you all think, but it is not true. I didn't mean to kill him. He made me kill him. He taunted me, he made fun of me. What was I supposed to do?” Ivar mumbled, where she could almost sense the distraughtness within his croaked out voice. But of course that was covered by the fact that he was now trying to justify his acts, which really triggered the Russian.

“For starters, you could try to settle the matter in a civilized manner? Or I don't know, not kill him maybe?” Ivar glared at her in disbelief, possibly because in all honesty, all tides were shown that she had been siding with him regarding his regret over killing Sigurd earlier.

“I didn't mean to kill him-”

“If you didn't mean to kill him, you wouldn't throw an axe at him. No, you're lying to yourself, Ivar. At least a small part of you wanted him to shut up for good. Don't try to justify your actions, it's pathetic.” The way she had made it sound reminded him of how Hvitserk remarked his when the third oldest Ragnarsson told him that he wasn't going to feel sorry for him.

“What kind of a man, turns and tells lies about his own brother..” The audience weren't exactly buying it and neither was she. It seemed to good to be true. He killed his brother and then he apologizes. Then here, he is apologizing again but at the same time, justifying his actions. Only Ivar would do that and get away with it.

“And what lies did he tell?”, Hvitserk asked, his free hand circling the rim of the cup in his grasp.

“Oh you know that as well I do, Hvitserk.”

“He said you weren't a real man.” Honestly, Erika literally scoffed at what Ubbe said, and had successfully caught their attention. She shrugged aimlessly and continued sharpening her blade.

Ivar's breathing became heavily ragged, as if he was trying to keep his temper under control, as his grip on the chair also became tighter. She could hear the sound of it creaking. “And what would you have done, Ubbe? If he said that to you.”

Scoffing once again as she shook her head, she mumbled as few words in Russian to herself, carefully making sure it wasn't audible for them to hear. This was all due to masculinity issues? Who could have known. Not. It still has not escaped her mind that Sigurd died because they were bickering like children and all it took was a simple comment of a childhood slap. Men.

“I swear to the Gods and my sacred ring, that I never meant to kill him. Anger overcame me. And I wasn't thinking.” Bjorn scoffed in response as he turned away. He was not present for a while and then he found out under his fleeting absence, his younger half brother was dead. Of course he had every right to be annoyed. They are the son of Ragnar, after all. “I am truly sorry.”

When no one responded to him, he grew agitated and left the tent, leaving the ‘adults’ alone. Truthfully, only Bjorn and Harald seemed to be the actual adults. Ubbe, Hvitserk and Erika were still young adults. Ubbe was 22 and Hvitserk, 21. Erika was 24. And Ivar was only about 17 or 18. She was worried for his temper and truthfully, began to grow wary of him. If he could kill his kin, his flesh and blood brother, what of her; who is nothing more than a sister-in-law and token of an alliance. He could simply kill her during battle and even then, her brother could not blame anyone. She might no longer be in foreign lands, but she is definitely in a den of wolves that were eager to rip her to shreds once she showed them her Achilles’ heel.

“You cannot leave him in charge of the Great Army.” Ubbe started and Bjorn shrugged, obviously not giving a damn.

“You're his big brother, Ubbe. He is your problem.” That's quite a move and while she might disagree, she said nothing towards the eldest Ragnarsson.

Bjorn is off to Mediterranean with Halfdan and some of their warriors who wanted to venture to new lands in the new world, leaving Ubbe and Hvitserk, and well, her, to deal with Ivar. That's going to prove to be a challenge, seeing as the hardheaded Ivar the Boneless is not exactly one who plays by the rules.

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(Yes that is the infamous liutenant, Lord Eron Sivgny~)

The entire evening, Ubbe and Hvitserk spent theirs by hearing to what Erika had to say about the lands in the East Anglia. She was showing them what every cities were called, up until Ivar interrupted them when he crawled into the tent. “I will excuse myself then. Enjoy your sibling moment.” She exited the tent and met Eron, who was busy sharpening his sharp end of his sword.

“Who are you going to cut, Eron.” She teased and it resulted in a smile coming from her second-in-command.

“Anyone that comes in your way, of course.”

“Might want to keep them sharp. We never know when I am done here. It could be any day.” She took a seat next to him by the fire, and lets out a heaved sigh. She wondered what their fate would be and has been occupying her head with the list of things she has done ever since.

“What are you thinking of?”

“Just my choices. The late King Ecbert, he told me that regardless for what I have done up until now, was not forced upon me.”

“What does that mean?” The discontentment lacing her voice made the male turned to face her as his complexion was tainted with confusion. Eron knew her for years, he was older by a few years and served as a good friend to her from her homeland. The one who followed her here to protect her and remind her what it was to be a Russian.

“I made my choice to follow it. I thought that I was just following commands given by my brother, the King. I thought I was doing my duties as the princess and was being a faithful and loyal subject to my King. But no, everything I thought that I didn't have a choice in- I did. I had one. And I have made it. I just kept telling myself that I didn't, I'm not sure why. Maybe to ease the guilt off me.” The chuckle that erupted from the raven haired princess had caused her friend to grow worried for her.

“Princess, what are you saying?”

“I mean to say that I am not as innocent as I make myself out to be, Eron.” Turning to face him instead of the crackling fire before her, her smile was a sad one. “King Ecbert was right. And I'm confused and afraid, for the person that I am becoming. The person that I am now. Who is she?”

Placing a reassuring hold on her shoulder, the male sighed and assured her it was all her mind playing games on her. “You are Princess Erikaterina. Our princess. Our Queen. You are our commander. Now and forever. Do not burden yourself with such doubts.”

“But I have to. I need to figure myself out first, in order to find myself through all of this. I am just as guilty as the Northmen. Perhaps even more so, considering I betrayed my trusted friend and led an attack on my own home.” The guilt had seeped into her voice as she fiddled with the helm of her dress; a habit she developed when she was a child, whenever she was nervous.

“But that is not your home-”

“What is home then?”

That caused Eron to say nothing and kept his silence as the both of them stared into the fire. If looks could kill, the fire would die in the hands of Erika. “I should probably get back and settle all the plans. Maybe even get an early sleep for myself. Good night, Eron.” Bidding the male off with a smile, the Russian born woman made her way back to the tent to retrieve her map, when she heard their conversation.

Halting on her steps, she decided to stop for a few seconds before entering. The moment she entered, all eyes were on her but she made no notice of it as she rolled up the map that was laid on the other table by the edge of the tent. The raven haired princess could almost feel the stare boring through her skull and she was heavily affected by it. It was one of her pet peeves. Turning around to face the three brothers, she raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner. “Well? What is it. Why do you look at me like that.”

“Did you hear?”, Ivar asked.

“It's hard not to when you're not exactly being private and I am literally just standing by the tent.”

“So?” Ivar was urging more of her. He wanted her to tell him something and fortunately, she could sense it. She understood his body language.

“To answer your impending question, no. I cannot divulge in more secrets about England. Besides, I have nothing else to say about it.” That was a lie. She knew everything about York. She used to venture there every start of winter to help the people delegate their sources. No doubt Ivar sensed that too. Sigurd was right, she truly was a bad liar.

“That is a lie and we all know it. Surely, all your life spent here, you've been to York at least once.” There he was, poking into it. Ivar was a smart person, sometimes a bit too smart and she hated that she always felt smaller when he was in the clearing.

“Fine. Yes. I've been to York a few times to attend the cathedral there with Aethelwulf. That is all I can say.”, she scowled at the younger male before huffing and cleaning the table up. “I know nothing of their defenses.”

Chuckling to himself, she couldn't help but to turn around to face the crippled Ragnarsson, narrowing her hazel hues onto him. He was mocking her again. “You always seemed that way. You make people think you're nothing more than a piece of chess pawn placed in the den of wolves, making people disregard you. When really, you're attentive and paid attention to every single detail. You're not as daft as you make yourself to be, Lille Ild.” His bright blue orbs never left her and truthfully, she would lie if she said he wasn't at all intimidating.

“Good. Because I am not daft as you make myself out to be, Ivar.” Erika rolled her eyes and made sure to emphasis his name, clearly annoyed by his witty self.

“You search for the sense of belonging. You wanted others to accept you. You forget the only way for them to do that is for you to show them.” That struck a cord in her, so much she almost marched towards his direction to give him a piece of her mind.

“You mean to say that I should show dominion over them.”

“Why not? You want to be respected, no?”

“Respected, yes. Not feared.”

“Hardly see the difference.”

“That's probably because you don't know the difference.”

Hvitserk eased the tension brewing between the two by coughing, not so subtly. Noticing that, Erika offered them a tight lipped smile before making her leave. “Well that went well. I thought you said you know how to handle her.”

“Shut up, Ubbe.”

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The next morning, Hvitserk told Erika that they were going to have one last family breakfast together before Bjorn leaves for his journey to the Mediterranean. She took a seat next to Bjorn and Ubbe, sitting just across Ivar and Hvitserk, with Harald and Halfdan by the ends of the table. The silence was so ominous it could cut them, and so Harald started a conversation. For all their sakes. Thankfully.

“So, Princess Erikaterina, how come you know so much of our culture and language?” The question took her by surprise and like him, everyone was curious to know the same.

Clearing her throat and taking a sip from her cup, she started off simply. “Erika is fine, King Harald. My name is too mouthful, it seems. I am only a princess and I don't see you addressing Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk or Ivar as princes. So Erika is fine. To answer to your question, as I've told the brothers before, you are not the first vikings I've encountered.” She paused and pursed her lips lightly before continuing after picking up the right word to describe it. “My father, King Nikolai, was a descendant of the Rus' vikings. We call them Varangian. But after marrying my mother, Queen Anna who hailed from Constantinople but was raised in Sicily, he converted into a Christian and so our line began and his, dissolved.”

It wasn't exactly a story for them to smile upon because one of them renouncing their Gods and choosing a new one just because they married a Christian, was still inexplicable. It reminded them of Rollo, the uncle who betrayed their father and cost them a great loss, once upon a time ago. Much like any of them, they too, we're devoted to their Gods. Bjorn continued by asking where Sicily is located at. Finally, something she could not be awkward in.

“Sicily is a beautiful and the largest island located in the Mediterranean, Bjorn. It's rich with culture and traditions from many other places, with enough influences derived from the Byzantine Empire and Holy Roman Empire. They used to have a monarchy. But after my mother's death, it was left unguarded and the man the governor, elected naval commander, Euphemius, took over and abolished our family's monarchy. He went against our great-grandfather, Michael II, the Byzantine Emperor and well.. Enlisted the help of an Emir from North Africa. Now I have no idea what is of Sicily. My mother has not returned after her marriage, and I have not returned just as well. I only managed to go to Messina for a while on a pilgrimage the last time.” It seemed that Bjorn and Halfdan were the ones that were most interested in the idea of Sicily. Hvitserk and Ubbe were in awe and whilst Ivar could seem like he could care less about the new world, he was fascinated by her family history. So she was more than just an Eastern princess.

Upon finding out that her family lines stretched out up to the Byzantine Empire royalty, King Harald grew interested. No wonder she had so many enemies lying around just about everywhere. Being in line for the throne was a big thing if she was supposed to inherit such power. Her uncles, Constantine and Michael III, were once the co-rulers of the Byzantine Empire that stretched out in the East and elsewhere. Now, was left only with Michael III. After her uncle passes, the line would fall to her younger brother, Alek, since he had no children. So there was no doubt that one day, she too could succeed them as Empress. But of course, her assassination attempts were solely derived from Basil, the co-emperor of Michael. Her legitimacy threatens his and would continue to do so once she bore an heir. Now that she has married, only time will tell.

“You know what they say, knowledge is power? Skål!” King Harald holds his cup up in the air to cheer, but Erika chuckled before shrugging and doing the same.

“Knowledge is a powerful tool, yes. But knowledge is knowledge. Power-” Sipping her ale, her hazel hues twinkled in an almost malevolent light. “-Is power.” That caused everyone to erupt in cheers and laughter. Unbeknownst to them, she really did meant what she said. Much like how Ivar saw her, she was more than what she made herself out to be, and he liked the idea of it. It was a challenge to find out just what the princess was planning, but he is all on board for it.

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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do you mind if i ask who your fc is for your oc?

The FC for Erika? It's Merve Boluğur, a Turkish actress who portrayed Nurbanu Sultan :3

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 10 : Nostalgia is Karma

A/N : A small sneak peek on young Erika xD To those who are Team Saxons, more interactions of Erika x Saxons coming your way~ If you have any questions regarding this at all (Erika etc.) ask along~

Floki slipped up that he has decided to leave them afterwards. Erika had no idea why the boat builder would suddenly take a turn of events in his chapters and leave the sons of Ragnar to deal with themselves, despite knowing they would not go along well. Something tells her that a new beginning was brewing and it wasn't cooked up for her. Meaning she would either be spending her time with her family up there or she'll live to see the day. Either way, she was sure it wouldn't be too soon seeing as her brother still lives until this day. While the Russian born woman was seen perched up the stables; tending to her mare, Malea, her attention was disrupted by Hvitserk who came by to tell her that Ecbert had requested to see her one last time. She was not present during the time he signed the deal away to the Northmen because she wasn't sure if she could refrain herself from ripping the parchment of deal to shreds.

“The Saxon King wishes to see you.” Other than that, Hvitserk did not say another word and it surprised her, because she did not peg him to be the type that would obey and abide by every rules. He was unpredictable, much like his youngest brother, Ivar. And she couldn't figure out what he was thinking, most of the time.

She did not say a word but patted her mare a few times before trailing behind him. She wondered what could the Saxon king possibly would like to talk to her about, considering their differing opinions on almost everything. However, she held an amount of respect for him because he may not be an admirable man, but he sure as hell was one intelligent man. She was sure he was hiding something up his sleeves even to point of his death. Surely he knew he would never be spared by the Ragnarssons after what he's done to their late father. He must've planned something. Closing the door behind her, she lets out a sigh, her ragged breath following suit.

“I have no time to spare for pleasantries, your Majesty. So I ask for you to state your purpose for asking for me.” It was clear to the both of them that she wished to finish this matter quickly. She didn't need a reminder of her betrayal. The current state the former King was before her, became the evidence.

“I watched you grow. You were just a child when they brought you here. A mere child of 6. Burdened with the glorious future that holds out for you. But because you were born with your status and blood, you were hunted down and assassination attempts became your daily routine. For such a small and naive child, you were worth a value.” His tone was solemn and Erika found herself sinking her teeth on her bottom lip as she crossed her arms and stared at the old frail King that was standing in front of her. Yet she said nothing. She gave him his space to talk. It was his parting words after all, the least she could offer is respect and silence. “You became Aethelwulf's confidant and friend. He hated you took his attention but eventually grew fond of you as the years pass by, instead. He raised you like his own sister. Your relationship has always been platonic. And if it wasn't because of that, I would've married you off to my son. And not because he would be King of another kingdom in the East. Nor was it because I would gain a controlled daughter-in-law. Do you know why I would love for that to happen?”

Turning her head slightly to face the king, she clenched her jaw unintentionally before answering. “Why.”

“Because he would protect you. Because he would die for you. I was a bad father because I strived to be a good King. We could only choose one after all, to be balanced. And he wanted nothing more other than to make sure you fulfill your promise and future.” If she had applied any more pressure on her bottom lip, she would've tasted the coppery sensation of her own blood. “He would still forgive you despite everything you've done, Katerina dear. All I ask is that you swear to it that you would do everything in your power to keep his sons, especially Alfred, safe.” The name of the boy made her twitch.

Alfred.

Then, she remembered.

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- Flashback -

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Everything was set. The candles were lit and so was the tapestries adorning the altar by the fire. Everything was arranged accordingly and neatly. Erika stood by and lit another candle as she was seen speaking enthusiastically with Aethelwulf. It was Alfred's 9th name day. She has made sure the party was special for the latter. She watched him grow up and she had doted upon the male.

“I want you to be his godmother, Kat.” That took her attention off the candle lighting as she almost dropped it. But the Saxon prince was already anticipating such move to occur.

“What? Am I not already Aethelred's godmother?” She took the candle back from him and began to lit more candles along the line. Aethelwulf followed her from behind, still talking about her possible guardianship over his sons.

“You can't be another? They're brothers, Kat. It's Alfred. You know the boy is not that well with others. He grew up with you teaching him the histories. He prefers your company. Don't forget you were the one who taught him how to play chess. And he has been playing them ever since. I cannot trust anyone else with his care.” The desperation that laced his voice made the raven haired princess stop her movements and filled her head with contempt.

Turning around to face the Saxon prince, she sighed and placed the candle aside. “It's not that I don't want to. The responsibility it entails..” Pursing her lips lightly before continuing, she agreed to the prince's request. “Fine. I'll do it.” A godmother was just a title but the responsibility it entails were definitely more than it.

“I want you to swear on it, Kat.” That made her frown but understood exactly why the prince asked for it. She would ask for it too had it been her children.

And so, after the evening passed with the celebration of Alfred's name day, the moment night engulfs them, Aethelwulf was with Erika, standing before Bishop Edmund and King Ecbert as their witnesses for what comes after. A contract was laid before her on the altar and she had read it a few times before letting the sharp end of her dagger meet her finger as she pricked it. The blood made a small pool on the side as she made her signature clear on the parchment. She had signed her name on the agreement. Preferably, it was called a blood oath. She swore up to her blood that says she would uphold the end of her deal or may God have mercy on her soul.

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- Flashback Ends -

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Yes, of course she remembered that night. It had been forever embedded in her head. She remembered going to Alfred’s room so late at night and bade him good night as she served him his favourite tea, made from chamomile extract. It had been a herb she was given since a child by her mother back home. It gave her a sense of calming sensation that travels throughout her entire self. And Young Alfred had began to favour it just as she does.

As if knowing Erika was so deep in her memory lane, Ecbert coughed a few times to capture her attention again. That causes the princess to turn around and face the former king, with a look that none could seem to comprehend through. “I made a blood oath to keep Alfred safe, your Majesty. You were privy to every detail too. You were there, as our witness. How could you ever think I would allow any harm to befall that child?” The disbelief that had laced her tone was as potent as a venom should be. She was truly in distraught that the former would ever think of her in such way, especially given the two’s history.

“You betrayed Aethelwulf, my dear. But I would not dwell on it as it is a choice that you have made.” That caused Erika to clench her jaw tightly as her fists soon followed suit.

“No- I.. I didn’t betray him. I didn’t have a choice-”

“Everyone has a choice, Katerina. You just have to pry deeper to see it. Like it or not, despite you assuring yourself that you are without a choice, you have one. And you have made them.”

Closing her eyes in frustration, she slowly ingested everything the wise old king had said earlier. He was right. She did have a choice. She just didn’t notice it. And what’s worse for her, is that she’s made hers. “I stand clear, King Ecbert. I swore a blood oath to protect Alfred and if I go against it, may God have mercy on my soul.” Not wanting to stay there and drown herself with the waves of guilt, she said what she needed to say, and exited the hall.

As soon as she dashed out of the hall, she leaned against the wall and covered her mouth with both hands before slumping down to the dirtied ground and let the tears stream down her cheeks. Erika became a sobbing mess as she tried her best not to make much of a noise. “God, have mercy on my soul for what I have done. And for what I am about to do.”

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By the time Erika had returned to them, she found out Bjorn gave a dagger to King Ecbert; who wished to choose the manner of his death. Which just so happened to bleed himself to death in the bath house. She remembered the spacious hall made for it. She used to play with the Saxon princes there. And she would always slip and dive into the clear waters. The raven haired princess wanted nothing more than to go away from Wessex as soon as possible as she couldn’t bear to relive all the nostalgic memories that preyed on her head. The clear distaste and disapproval was plastered across her face, up until Sigurd asked her if she was feeling well.

“For the 24th time, I am fine, Sigurd. Do not concern yourself with my prospective well-being, my sweet brother-in-law.” She had tried to shrug him off since an hour ago but that wasn’t really going off well. The blonde was being very persistent. Well, he is a Ragnarsson. What had she expected?

“You are a terrible liar, Erika. Maybe next time, you should bear in your mind to polish your tongue instead of your fighting skills, sister.”

“Or maybe I should polish yours. A cut seemed to do the fact just nice. I’d be doing everyone a favour that way.” The moment she let the statement come out, Sigurd had held both his hands up in failure as he gave her a playful wink and retreated.

The two of them joined the others at the table as the food were served. She propped herself next to Sigurd and Hvitserk, facing the others in front of her. Her face was devoid of any emotion and so was her steely hazel hues. As if she was empty. Hvitserk has not said a word since before, and surprisingly, Erika missed his conversations with her. The flaxen haired prince had a particular sense of humour, that managed to get a few laughs out of the slightly stoic princess. It also helps when his tone was always so soothing. They both had an understanding towards each other but ever since the fight earlier today, it seemed like both were trying their best not to trigger any switches off. For everybody’s sake. Just because Hvitserk is the jovial and fun brother, doesn’t mean his temper doesn’t match one that is of a spawn from Ragnar Lothbrok.

“Why do you look so solemn, lille ild? Hm?” Of course Ivar just had to push her. His entertainment derived from her reactions mostly.

“None of your concern.”

“But you’re my sister-in-law.”

“You sure have an interesting way of showing that.”

A chuckle escaped him and she rolled her eyes before taking a sip off her chalice. The two bickering would be the kind of public entertainment the other vikings got off from. They were amusing to them. A few conversations here and there went unnoticed to her, as she had decided to keep her ears closed and shut for a while. Up until she heard another erupt of cheer from the other party. The word skål that was once a rarity became a part of her daily vocabulary. The vikings would cheer to anything, it was almost absurd and overwhelming for the foreigner self that was her. She was keeping herself busy with consuming the food that was placed on the plate before her, when Ivar spoke.

“Who, wants to be a farmer now? Hm? We have a great army and we should use it. There are many other places that I want to attack and raid and those of you that feel like I do, you should come with me. And those of you who don’t, ask yourself, who- can stand in our way now?!” Another eruption of cheers went around and for once, Erika was glad she had blocked everything else out before there she was, sipping her drink, looking unamused as ever.

“You cannot lead the army, Ivar.” Here comes Ubbe, who looked at his youngest brother skeptically.

“I don’t want to, Ubbe. All I’m saying is that for those who is still brave to raid and find adventure, they can come with me, because I will lead them.” Hvitserk, who was still busying himself with food as usual, looked up and placed a piece of chicken inside his mouth that he cut earlier using his knife. He was actually considering what Ivar was saying. “You can put on an apron and settle down if you want.” Ivar mocked as he patted Ubbe teasingly, who responded with not-so-amused chuckle of his own.

“It’ll take a great man, Ivar. To stay and stake a claim here and defend it.” Upon hearing Hvitserk, Erika stopped her hand movements as she looked up to both sides of the table. The stares and looks that were being passed around like food, it made the atmosphere tense. It was enough for her to even smell it.

Ivar had a big smile on his face as he lets out a small laugh. “Hah, that doesn’t sound like yourself, dear brother. The Hvitserk I know, he loves to raid. He’s a real viking.”, he added. “What you just said, that is not the viking way.” That alone had made the Russian woman snicker in response. It was barely audible but it was definitely not enough to escape the Ragnarssons’ attention, because Ivar had averted his gaze onto her instead.

“Don’t look at me. I have no say in this. This is your family drama. You Ragnarssons solve it.” With that, she continued eating as if nothing was happening. Snickering once again, the youngest brother propped his elbow on the table and stared at her with his piercing blue hues.

“And are you not family, my dear sister-in-law? No? You’re Hvitserk’s wife, surely you also have a say in this family drama that you spoke of.” Sighing in response, Erika narrowed her hazel ones to the cripple. She was going to let everything go because she wasn’t exactly in the best mood to be reckoned with.

“I have no intention on joining this petty little family squabble you have with each other, Ivar. I- actually have something to do that is worth my time.”, she exclaimed casually, playing with the hilt of her dagger under the table, one Bjorn and Hvitserk noticed.

“Pray tell, lille ild. What is that hm?”

“Watching you make a fool out of yourself every time you wanted to prove your worth. Because let’s be honest, we all know what’s your worth.”

That successfully wiped the smiley face and smug smirk off him as she could sense the anger bubbling inside him. Turning his head away, to face the crowd of vikings instead, he shifted his seat. “Who among you will follow me? Who will follow me into battle for the love of fame? And for the love of Odin, Allfather!” He exclaimed. It seemed like the crowd were liking the idea he was suggesting, much to her dismay. Honestly, Erika wanted to get out of England as soon as possible and despite not preferring Kattegat, it was a better place than here; where she would be reminiscing all the good memories she had now tainted with blood and death.

“Don’t do this, Ivar. We’re all the sons of Ragnar, we have to stick together.” Sigurd interjected, and Ivar dismissed his remark easily like a feather left lying around in the wind.

“Frankly, dear Sigurd, I don’t care what you think. The truth is, I wouldn’t even piss down your throat even if your lungs were on fire.” There it is, the infamous sibling rivalry between the two youngest. She wondered when they would bicker again. It was endless. The crowds laughed and Ubbe stuck a knife on the wooden table, somewhat a warning towards Ivar to stop the petty banter.

“Well maybe that’s because you’re not really a man, are you, Boneless?” Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she didn’t expect Sigurd to retaliate that way but of course he would. She’s heard of the manhood issues that surrounded Ivar, from Sigurd himself but never really bothered herself with it. She was left sipping her cup awkwardly following the small silence.

In order to water down the tension that was beholding their early dinner session, Bjorn asked a question on who was going to stay and farm. To which King Harald responded that he would, however his intentions were far less concerned over the farming idea. She never actually liked the guy. There was something ominous about him that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. But it was always the say, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’. Halfdan expressed his desire to tag along with Bjorn to sail the Mediterranean sea, which almost caused the princess to choke on her drink, if it wasn’t due to Hvitserk taking her cup away. For a couple who was supposed to be bickering with each other, both of them had a way on keeping each other safe. Somewhat.

Bjorn wasn’t going to be there to ensure peace between the brothers. She probably should have listened from the beginning instead of tuning everything out. Bjorn took a huge leap over the table and went over to Halfdan, embracing him. The looks of disbelief and upsetness did not came from Sigurd alone. It came from Erika just as well.

“Then it seems, that the only thing that really kept the sons of Ragnar together, was the death of their father.”

A truth that couldn’t be said more.

“Poor Bjorn, it is you who doesn’t want to keep the army together. It is you, who wants to go away to sunny places. Everyone else can follow me.”

“I do not want to follow you, Ivar. You are crazy. You have the mind of a child.”

She knew she should have kept a close eye on Sigurd and probably kept him from bickering any longer with his brother. But she wasn’t sure what to do, not really. She only kept exchanging looks in between the two brothers, with the other two brothers, Ubbe and Hvitserk, with her. The two continued their endless supply of petty and salty remarks towards each other. Even Bjorn who opted to tell them to keep it down was backhanded by Ivar who said it had nothing to do with him. It was then that she reminded herself why she respected Bjorn and liked him better. He’s the half brother, and actually had enough experience to talk about it.

Bjorn shook his head and decided to walk away from the unnecessary bicker between the two. Ubbe was trying to calm Ivar down while Hvitserk and Erika stopped eating. Sigurd pulled out the mother card and Erika instantly knew, that was a low blow. “Sigurd, don’t you think that’s enough? Surely you shouldn’t waste your time bickering like this.. It’ll get nowhere.”, she told him. But he proceeded with one more remark to end it. A sentence that was probably the last straw. Literally.

Because the next thing she knew was that she heard Ubbe yelling for Ivar and the axe embedding itself on Sigurd’s torso. A shock that caused Hvitserk and her to look towards his direction in horrid surprise. She stood up as Sigurd staggered and tried to take the axe out. She probably would have offered first aid or anything but no, she was too plagued with the shock, so much she couldn’t even move.The blonde took out the axe and went towards Ivar, who seemingly backed up to his chair in retaliation. Erika swore she saw slight fear flashing before Ivar’s blue orbs. But poor Sigurd did not manage to make it half way past the table when he tumbled down. Covering her mouth with her hand, she watched as Ubbe and Hvitserk went to their brother’s aid and glared simultaneously at Ivar.

Maybe she was right to trust her instincts all along. Ivar’s anger had took over him and Sigurd died in response. She just got all the evidences she needed to never trust the youngest Ragnarsson.

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A/N : I promise more Hvitserk x Erika soon enough <3 Good things take time ;)

#Hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #Bjorn Ironside #ivar #ivar the boneless #ubbe #Sigurd #peirasmós

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

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Just a daily reminder from one of my favorite authors.

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silvertonguedslavicwitch · 5 years

Text

Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 9 : Resentment Drives Deep

Erika spent the entire day telling Hvitserk stories about Greek Mythology and boy was he fascinated by the mention of it. Although he did question their motives and plots, to which the Russian had to shut him up because he questioned too much it was beginning to spoil the story. Ubbe heard it too. When Ivar and Bjorn came back, she wondered if everything was going to go according to their plan. Her heart was dreading tomorrow because she would match against her own best friend who raised her up for the better parts of her life. He also taught her what it was like to enjoy the simplest things in life. How could she betray Aethelwulf like this?

So when morning comes, Hvitserk was woken by her humming. He didn't complain but he wondered why she hasn't slept a wink since last night. He knew better than to ask however, knowing fully well it was probably due to her dilemma and complicated friendship she had with the Saxons prince. The raven haired princess has been brushing her hair since morning and had already gotten dressed properly in her armor before everyone else had the opportunity to even wake up.

“If I asked you to spare Aethelwulf.. Would you?” The sudden question had caught Hvitserk off guard when he fumbled with his vest.

“Sorry?”

“If I had asked you to spare the Saxon prince that is my best friend.. Would you?” Once again, she asked. This time, with her voice twice loud than it was originally.

Hvitserk shrugged and Erika had already gotten her answer so she dismissed it absentmindedly. She wished Aethelwulf would escape unscathed and hurry on to flee with his wife and sons. She can't bear the thought of slaughtering his sons, Aethelred and Alfred. The two boys whom she had doted so much upon, especially Alfred. The boys she had raised up for some time after being named their godmother. How would he feel about her betrayal? How would they grow up knowing her betrayal was what cost them their home? Deciding not to think much about it to throw more guilt on her plate, she got up and tied her hair properly before making her way outside to assemble with the others.

The plan was laid out and all had their respective roles. So when the sound of the Saxon foot soldiers came by, she tightened her grip around her horse's reins. Her posture stiffened and Eron placed a reassuring hold on her shoulder, telling her that she was forced to do this and how everything was not her fault. However, that did not give a settled feeling for the princess. The guilt was too much for her to bear and she had to shut every emotion she had off if she was going to go ahead with this plan. She watched as they got confused by the formation the Vikings were laying out. They were going back and forth, to the point where she could see the frustration radiating off Aethelwulf who was leading them. Just as her suspicions, the Saxon prince then noticed that they were being played and halted every movement.

Which was exactly what they had wanted. To bring a clear target to every arrow that was drawn by every single person inside the woods, covered by the trees. That was when the arrows flew and made themselves known to the soldiers who stood in the clearing. Erika watched from the north side of the field as each soldier fell to the ground after being pierced and impaled by the mean arrows given by the Northmen. The sight was almost so easy for them to overlook because they were slowly being plucked off by wild berries by them. Poor souls.

The second part of their agenda was beginning to grow as she watched Aethelwulf advanced towards the direction of the woods where the arrows were released the first time, not knowing that they were already gone and was making their way back to surround them. By the time he realized it, they were already behind him. She caught the Saxon prince's eyes though when he was searching for weak spots. The look he had given to her was one that caused the woman to shrink in her spot. He saw her. He knew. She wasn't sure what was more hurtful, the fact that she had aided them in taking him down, or the fact that she had divulged in them with secrets only he had told her. Either one makes their worth. That she was a betrayer and was not someone you should trust.

She had forced herself to look away from the battle, because the princess could not meet her former friend's eyes and still look unshaken. She has never been a good liar all her life, and that was not about to change now. Just as Aethelwulf was waiting for them to attack and charge, they turned their backs and walked away once again and that was the last streak for the Saxon prince. He had commanded his army to March towards their boats and ships in Repton, just so according to their original plan.

“Just right up to our plan.”

Floki was cheering and praising Ivar who looked happy that his intelligence on some of the strategies were acknowledged and again, praised. Erika had made sure to keep a close eye on Ivar. He was more dangerous than he made himself to be. She knew that. The princess wasn't about to be fooled so easily like that. It was not acceptable. There was something about Ivar the Boneless but the Russian born woman had no idea what it was. Something was ignited inside him and she feared that one day, she might not be at his mercy.

The now recently Princess of the Danes; after being married to Hvitserk, decided to go back to their camp and maybe take a walk around or detour for a while. She did not wish to witness any bloodshed that includes Aethelwulf. Like it or not, her allegiance lies with her husband now. And her husband is the Prince of Danes, who rules over the people of Kattegat like his other brothers, who were hell bent into taking vengeance up the doorstep of England. First, Northumbria. Now Wessex and Mercia. It's surprising to see it's still standing. Gripping the reins over her horse, she clicked her tongue slightly and made it turn around to another direction where she gallops off. Hvitserk saw, and he wasn't the only one amidst the battle that noticed. A certain blue eyed cripple was also keeping his eyes on her.

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Hours had passed and it was only then that Erika returned with a solemn look on her. Unfortunately for her, she chose the worst time to return, because the others were marching on to the Wessex doorstep, literally. She couldn't say no more could she decline to come with them as it would raise too many suspicion and the last thing she wanted to happen was for the other vikings to question her ‘loyalty’ even though it was clear she was torn between both sides.

“She doesn't look enthusiastic.” Ivar’s voice rung and Hvitserk followed his gaze that was averted to Erika who was maintaining her pace behind them. Since the princess were too busy occupying her thoughts, she did not notice the glances and looks she had received from the Ragnarssons.

“It will take time. Eventually, she'll side with us. She's already with us. We just need to be mindful. Aethelwulf was her best friend, the one who raised her for the better parts of her life. Now, for a princess that grew up being a target of assassination every moment of her life, clearly the significance the Saxon prince holds over her is more than that of a friend.” Bjorn was being very considerate and mindful, it was no wonder she looked up and respected the eldest Ragnarsson.

“Then, I wonder how she would take it once we raid their home.”, Ubbe mumbled. Truth to be told, the second eldest brother saw the fragility that lies within her hard exterior.

“And why should she care? Like you said, she is with us now.”

“Wessex was her home for most of her life, Ivar. She grew up here.” Sigurd had to intervene Ivar's mindless remarks who would not care less of what the Russian born royalty would feel. He had grew to admire her adventures from the stories she had told him. It only took him a day to like her and wished Ivar would at least stop his atrocious behavior when it comes to her.

Hvitserk however, did not utter even a word. His blue orbs just fell on her, who rode her mare like it was becoming her new friend. The white mare was a wedding present and gift for her. He was glad out of everything, she at least seemed to dote upon the majestic creature. Weirdly enough, the Viking prince actually wanted to make sure everything was up to her expectations and was trying to see if it accommodates her every need. It was a bonus point on him trying to behave like a decent husband. Her second in command, Eron Sivgny, was always by her side, offering her his company and whilst Hvitserk did not exactly like it, there was nothing he could do to stop that. The last thing he would do is to get on her bad side. God(s) knows how temperamental the raven haired beauty is. He had a sneak peek once and did not wish to divulge in those parts.

Soon they arrived in front of the Wessex palace. Even to Erika, it seemed deserted like no one was left to guard the fortress-like building. But she knew King Ecbert had probably evacuated them for safety purposes after Aethelwulf came back to inform them of the unsuccessful attack they were trying to put on the Northmen. Clicking her tongue to her mare, she mad when way into the unsealed doors alongside others. It was in fact deserted. At least, she would not have to witness anymore killings of her fellow Christians and Saxon people that she grew up with. However, she felt a slight dread within the bottom of the pit of her stomach; that was telling her it was not over yet. Staring at the cathedral not far off from where she was at, she looked away and decided to stay out with Bjorn while the others pillaged their way through, inside.

The eldest Ragnarsson noticed the look she had on her face and approached her. He was not one with sentimental compassion but he understood what it felt to see your home destroyed to the ground. It happened to him, once upon time ago, just as well. Before Ragnar became Earl and King. When he was a child. When he had to flee with his mother and late sister alongside Athelstan to save their lives. “I'm sorry you had to witness this.”

The raven haired princess shrugged, obviously trying to hide her displeased nature with what they were doing especially when she could see fire coming out from the cathedral. They were burning everything that was in it no doubt. The Holy scriptures and whatnot. She had to force her gaze away as she unknowingly gripped on her cross necklace. “Don't worry about it. It's.. Inevitable.”, she croaked out, and cleared her throat a few more times before keeping herself busy by tending to her mare.

The cheers erupted from their chests coming from the vikings made her bit her bottom her lip as she tried to push every thoughts of burying an axe or literally anything on them. That was until they saw King Ecbert coming out from some of the ruins. Averting her gaze from the mare up to the former King, she sighed sadly. She was far from being an ungrateful child, but everything was pointing towards that direction. Bjorn went on to let the King humiliate himself by locking him in the cage that Ivar told them the latter did the same with their father. Erika followed them, but said nothing as she sat by the steps of the hall and was training her eyes on the hilt of her sword instead.

The brothers were talking amongst each other and Ivar seemed to be the only one who wanted gruesome death to be the answer to all. Ubbe wanted to reclaim their lands and Bjorn kept quiet. Hvitserk, on the other hand, was in somewhat a dilemma but wanted to hear what the former King had to say for himself. Though, Sigurd agreed with Ivar. which caused all of them to be surprised because Sigurd never agrees with Ivar. Ever.

It was then when Ecbert had offered them to reclaim their lands, the one he had taken from Ragnar the first time. That had perked up everyone's ears and piqued their interest. So did Erika, who looked up from her sword and stared at the frail and weak royalty that was left in the cage above them. Bjorn beckoned for him to spill it and Erika sat through to hear it. What she could not believe was that, the former was willing to offer the kingdom of East Anglia alongside the original agreement. That was just absurd and preposterous in her view. The kingdom of East Anglia given to the likes of the Northmen? How is that even possible. No one will stand for it. And truthfully, she wasn't about to accept it either.

“The kingdom of East Anglia? Are you in your right mind, your Majesty. That's unthinkable.” That had obviously caused Ivar to frown upon her, to which she paid no attention to. “I can't believe you would do that.”

“It is for the likely reason that you would be able to take care of it was why I offered it in the first place, my dear. You have always ventured there in the spring with Aethelwulf every year. You favoured it. I know it will be safe under your hands.” However convincing he had made himself out to be, Erika could not believe her ears. Shaking her head at the Saxon, she still muttered profanities under her breath before leaving the room.

While she was trying to get rid of the anger that had been bubbling within her since moments ago, she was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps approaching. It was Hvitserk, who leaned against the stonewall in the hallway. “What do you want.” The clear distaste accentuating her voice did not went unnoticed by the flaxen haired prince.

“Why are you so adamant against the proposal the Saxon king gave us.” His question made her huff out in exhaustion as she turned around to face him with a look that clearly said surprised.

“You destroyed this place like you do every other else. Can you imagine how I would feel seeing my home torn to pieces by the people I can't even hurt? The kingdom of East Anglia was a vital place that held a special place in my heart because of the memories I had. Of course to see it being given to strangers would infuriate me.” The amount of sarcasm dripping her venomous tone had taken the prince aback and slightly made him click his tongue in annoyance. It struck something in him.

“Of course it would. Your memories with your precious best friend, Aethelwulf, is there.” The sudden intrusion of such topic made the princess clench her jaw as she seemingly tried to hold herself back from actually launching on him and attack. “You didn't need to take it out on me because you betrayed him-” Unfortunately he didn't get the chance to finish the sentence as the latter snapped.

“This is never about Aethelwulf or anyone else! This is also not because of me trying to cope with the guilt that hovers over me each day due to the betrayal I took part in! You- you don't have the right to judge me like that, Northman!” Pointing her finger at him, Erika marched up to him and there were only a few metres separating them. “You kill and destroy like it's nothing. With no regard for anything. Like there is no such thing like a humanity for you! And whilst I cannot understand how you live with that kind of life, I would not try to understand it. I have every right to be angry at you. First, you made me a slave! Or a thrall-whatever it was! You humiliated me in every way you could like I was an animal with no feelings- hell even animals had more respect than that.” With every word, she had taken one step nearing her temper.

“Then, you made me betray my own friend. While that was not directly derived from you, I'll still hold you responsible. Even if I didn't, do you really think you're a good person? You burned our holy scriptures and killed Bishop Edmund. You asked me why I did not join you before and how could I?! You were destroying things that are important to me. I'm not a righteous person but at least I'm not an insensitive questionable malicious prick like you.” With that, Erika scowled and left the hallway, to go outside where she could pay her respects to Helga who was stabbed.

It was a shame. Helga was a kind soul. To each their own way, she was still kind. Staring by the distance, she sighed before giving her prayers to Helga silently as she watched Floki caressed her corpse. She was not there for long, knowing she was not welcomed there. But Floki stopped her. The princess looked at the infamous boat builder suspiciously as she reluctantly came to him.

“She talked about you sometimes.” He was in pain and she could see that. Grief takes such a toll on people and while each person coped with it differently, it didn't mean it didn't hurt. “She said you were a dove. But other times she would say you're a phoenix. Like how Freyja gave her wisdom to you and that you were meant to rise up every time you fall. She was delusional. How could a Christian like you receive such blessing. You were sensitive. Too emotional.” She wasn't sure why Floki was telling her this. Was it to make her even more angry? “But after experiencing enough death.. I finally understood why you are what you are.” His statement had definitely made Erika stare at him questionably.

“Why are you suddenly being nice to me. You hate me.”

“I hate what you are. I envy you. Despite being in a wrong path of the way, you would not give up. Perhaps you are destined to meet the sons of Ragnar. The Seer foretold someone would come and ruin them. I always thought that was you. Maybe I was wrong. ” Erika continued her gaze over the clearing as she glared into the fires that sparked up from the buildings.

“Don't be so sure about that, Floki.” Turning around to face him, she pursed her lips lightly before continuing. “It's far too early to make assumptions. I could still be the person who tore them apart.”

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#Hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #Bjorn Ironside #ubbe #Sigurd #peirasmós

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