Claimed By A Viking

by T S Florence

  Brenna and Torsten’s relationship moved fast. She had come and informed Hilda that she would be sleeping with him on their first night after leaving Kingston.

  “You’re not yet married,” Hilda said, covering her mouth.

  “We’re viking, we don’t need to be married to show love to each other,” Brenna replied.

  “Ok then,” Hilda said, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Just share your bed with Ragnar,” Brenna said.

  “He isn’t interested in me like that,” Hilda said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’ve met blind men who can see more clearly than you,” Brenna laughed, before hugging her good night.

  Hilda sat by the fire, listening to Ragnar’s men talk about what they would be doing when they arrived back in Newcastle. Nerves gripped at Hilda’s stomach as she imagined what it would be like if Jack and her mother, Elsbeth were still in Newcastle.

  She looked at Ragnar as he was taking supplies off his horse. It was a large horse, but it looked normal sized compared to Ragnar. His muscles rippled across his back as he lifted sacks over his head and put them on the ground. She watched him whisper into the horse’s ear, earning himself a pleased whinny from his new companion.

  She felt a yearning for him. A yearning that she had suppressed since the day he had rescued her from Dag. His slow and deliberate movements hypnotised her, and she fell into a silent trance, watching him set up camp.

  After shaking herself from herself back awake, Hilda began to take her own supplies from her much smaller horse, and started laying down blankets under a nearby tree. A large warm hand on her shoulder caused her to jump.

  “I will be sleeping with you tonight,” Ragnar said.

  “Excuse me?” Hilda said, her eyes growing wide.

  “Not like that,” Ragnar laughed.

  “I will be staying close to you when we are on the road. It’s not safe out here,” he said.

  “If you say so,” Hilda replied, feeling secretly excited at the prospect of spending the next night or two in Ragnar’s arms.

  As much as her head fought her, she couldn’t help but feel the same closeness she felt when they were younger, only this time, other feelings were flowing through her mind. After eating some of the hard cheese and dark bread that Ragnar had bought in Kingston, she lay down on the furs, and quietly watched Ragnar give orders to his men. Several of them nodded wordlessly, and put down their drinking cups.

  Soon, he made his way to their bed, and removed the great dark bear fur that was wrapped around his shoulders.

  “Where did you find that bear fur? It is twice the size of a normal bear, if not more,” Hilda asked.

  “We went to a strange land, filled with rich ground and great flowing rivers,” Ragnar said.

  “Tell me more,” Hilda said.

  “In this land, trees went up into the sky and past the clouds, and were so thick that ten men could not link their arms around it. There were so many deer that you need not leave your bed to shoot one down,” Ragnar said.

  “You’re making this up,” Hilda laughed.

  “I would never lie to you,” Ragnar smiled, before continuing, “Of course, along with all of the other enormous animals that were found on this land, there were bears. These bears weren’t only twice the size of a normal bear, but three times the size. Still, not as big as the great white bear that Ivar the Clever had slain, but these were enormous bears,” Ragnar said.

  “And you killed one?” Hilda asked.

  “Yes. I wanted to test myself. This one was particularly aggressive, and was stalking our group for days. Finally, I left on my own, trailed around, and stalked the great bear. Killing it was the most terrifying and exciting thing I have ever done. When it took on its back feet, it was twice as high as a man,” Ragnar said.

  “I can see, judging by the fur,” Hilda said quietly.

  “Yes. As you can see, I killed it,” Ragnar said, going quiet before continuing, “but it wasn’t the bears that made us leave these lands rich with animals and free flowing rivers that were full of fat salmon. It was the people. They had skin the colour of men who spend their lives in the sun, but still slightly darker. They wore feathers in their hair and shot bows and arrows from their horses like demons. And their horses were fast. Too fast. They would howl as they chased us, sounding like demons from the Underworld” Ragnar said.

  “And so you left?” Hilda asked.

  “Yes, well we had to. It was their lands, and they would not give them away. I would not have given them away either,” Ragnar said, growing quiet.

  “It sounds like an amazing place,” Hilda said.

  “It was the most beautiful lands I have ever seen in my life. You should have seen the rivers, Hilda, so blue and flowing so fast,” Ragnar moved towards the bed, now topless, showing his rippling muscles.

  “Would you ever go back?” Hilda asked.

  “I don’t think so. These people did not live in small towns like the English,” Ragnar said.

  “How did they live?” Hilda asked.

  “In small triangular huts, made of branches from trees, wrapped in animal skins. They were made simple and light so that they could move quickly and easily. We couldn’t attack a town, for they would move through their trees like ghosts. They would not be seen unless they wanted to be seen,” Ragnar said.

  “That sounds terrifying,” Hilda said quietly.

  “They were a part of their land. They didn’t just use the land and give nothing back, but they existed with it. They were the land, just an extension of it,” Ragnar said.

  “That’s the most thoughtful thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Hilda giggled.

  “I had a lot of time to think about it on the boat, coming back to England,” Ragnar laughed.

  “Of course,” Hilda said, quietly.

  “What?” Ragnar said.

  Ragnar’s comment that he had gone back to England instead of going to Fyrkat made her wonder if he’d considered going back to Fyrkat at all.

  “Nothing,” Hilda said, curling up under the furs on her side.

  Ragnar gently lay down next to her, rolling her over to face him.

  “What are you doing?” Hilda frowned at him.

  She looked into his intense blue eyes and pushed his dark hair from his face.

  “Ah, now I can finally see your pretty face,” Ragnar smiled.

  “Stop it, Ragnar,” Hilda sighed, though the compliment made her warm with desire.

  “You don’t like it?” He asked.

  “I didn’t say that,” Hilda said, enjoying their closeness, his body warmth radiating against her.

  “Good,” Ragnar grumbled, pulling her closer into him.

  “Ragnar, don’t crush me,” Hilda said, as her face buried into his chest.

  “This is gentle, Hilly,” Ragnar said.

  “Nothing about you is gentle,” Hilda sighed.

  “I am very gentle,” Ragnar said, frowning.

  “You are not very gentle,” Hilda laughed.

  Hilda noticed Ragnar’s face lighten when she laughed, the creases in his face straightening out. She closed her eyes, savouring his smile and his scent. She allowed herself, for the first time since the day he had left her, to smile when she thought of him. She kept her face buried in his chest so he could not see her smile.

  “I am the most gentle Earl in a hundred miles,” Ragnar said, holding her gently.

  “You’re the only Earl in a hundred miles,” Hilda rolled her eyes.

  “So you agree then?” Ragnar asked.

  “I don’t think I have a choice now, do I?” Hilda giggled.

  “I want you to remember this night, Hilda?” Ragnar said, quietly.

  “Why?” Hilda whispered, breathing in his scent, her eyes widening slightly.

  “This is the first night time I have ever beaten you with words,” He said, seriously.

  “I’m going to sleep now,” Hilda rolled onto her back.

  As she moved to her b
ack, she felt Ragnar’s hand move across her body, landing softly on her bare stomach, causing goose bumps to shoot up her arms. She was suddenly intensely aware of how close his hand was to the junction between her legs. She tried to fight the feeling, but the more she fought, the more aware of it she grew, and the more aware of it she grew, the more sensation she felt, with every beat of her heart, a feeling of dull pleasure was matched between her legs.

  She made the cross, and began to say a prayer to her god, asking for forgiveness, for she did not want him to be looking down on her in this moment, lying with another man, unwed, and yearning for him to touch her in places that can only be touched by a husband, for sleeping with a man out of wedlock was the greatest sin.

  With her prayer, and believing that her god was watching over her, she managed to subdue her temptation to feel Ragnar’s own stomach, and imagine what was below, and instead fell into a deep sleep.

  Ragnar

  Ragnar woke up looking at the last fading stars, which were stubbornly refusing to leave the dawning sky. The sound of birds broke the silence, waking the sleeping forest. He did not move, he did not want to wake Hilda, whose head was resting on his chest. Her warm breath against his skin sending him close to madness.

  She had started to let him get close again. He saw that he had broken her when he left her for all those years, and the only thing he could do to gain back her trust was be patient. But patience was not Ragnar’s strength.

  Ragnar turned his head to his side and saw Torsten lying with Hilda’s dark-haired friend. Water droplets from the night shimmered in the grass around them, making them look as if they were in a picture from a fairy tale told to young children.

  Ragnar turned back to Hilda, who moved slightly on his chest. Her hair shimmered in the morning light, her delicate features lit by the young sun. Her eyes opened, and locked with Ragnar’s, causing her to smile.

  “Were you watching me sleep?” She asked.

  “I was. You looked like one of the angels that your priests talk of,” Ragnar said.

  “Oh stop, Ragnar. Since when did you pay any attention to priests?” Hilda giggled, as she gently lifted herself from his chest, and rubbed her eyes.

  “Because I wanted to know more about your gods,” Ragnar said.

  “Why?” Hilda asked.

  “So, I can find a way to travel to your heavens in the afterlife,” Ragnar said.

  “You will go to your Valhalla,” Hilda said, her face growing firm.

  “I will go to where I want,” Ragnar said.

  “You may defeat all the men in the world, but you cannot defeat God’s will, Ragnar,” Hilda said.

  “I do not want to defeat, but simply negotiate,” Ragnar sighed.

  “Then you should make friends with some powerful priests,” Hilda said.

  “I will,” Ragnar said.

  “You will go to your Valhalla and forget about me for four hundred years instead of four, I think,” Hilda said.

  “Hilda not this again,” Ragnar groaned.

  “What? Are you tired of me after one week already? You can leave again for another four years if I’m annoying you,” Hilda clipped.

  “You will send me mad,” Ragnar growled, as he moved to his feet, feeling the cold wet grass beneath his toes.

  “How will I send you mad?” Hilda asked, looking at him innocently.

  “In more ways than one, Hilly,” Ragnar laughed.

  “What does that mean?” Hilda asked, her face growing red.

  “Nothing,” Ragnar moved away, before she could corner her with her clever words, and began warming food over the coals.

  Patience Ragnar thought to himself, knowing that he was slowly gaining back her trust. Men began to wake and pack up camp. Torsten had left Brenna to continue sleeping, and started working on setting his horse up for the day of riding that they had ahead of them. Spring was beginning to come around, and the fields were looking green and lush; they sparked with dew in the morning light.

  Once they had eaten a light breakfast, they commenced their journey. Hilda was riding at the very back of the group of travellers, so Ragnar slowed his horse’s pace to match hers. By the time he slowed enough to meet her, they were fifty yards from the nearest man.

  “You travel slow,” Ragnar said.

  “Slaves don’t usually get to ride horses, and I think my horse might be half donkey,” Hilda said.

  “You’re not a slave,” Ragnar sighed.

  “So, what would you do if I rode off into the forest?” Hilda asked.

  “I would chase you,” Ragnar said.

  “So, I’m not free,” Hilda said.

  “I would chase you because it’s not safe,” Ragnar growled.

  “My safety should not be your concern anymore,” Hilda pressed.

  “I will care if I want to,” Ragnar said, looking at her.

  “I will have nowhere to stay in Newcastle,” Hilda said.

  “You will be staying in my house,” Ragnar said.

  “You have a house?” Hilda asked.

  “A large house, and it’s better than the poor-quality houses built by the English,” Ragnar said.

  “Did you build it?” Hilda asked.

  “It was built by the Romans, a long time ago. There are still pictures on the tiles,” Ragnar said.

  “But don’t ghosts live in these houses?” Hilda asked.

  “Not in mine,” Ragnar laughed.

  “People will talk if I am living with you outside of wedlock,” Hilda sighed.

  “Then we tell people you are still my slave, this is normal,” Ragnar said.

  “I didn’t know you were this clever,” Hilda said, eyeing Ragnar carefully.

  “Or you could marry me,” Ragnar said, his stomach tightening from the nerves of suggesting it. Ragnar, who had felt no fear charging into battle, but felt nerves from suggesting marriage with the only girl he had ever cared for in his life.

  “Marry you?” Hilda said, her eyes wide.

  “Well you could live with me in my house without judgment. And you wouldn’t need to pretend to be my slave,” Ragnar said.

  “A wife is basically a man’s slave, anyway,” Hilda said.

  “Not my wife,” Ragnar said.

  “Can I have some time to think about it?” Hilda asked.

  Patience, Ragnar thought to himself.

  “Of course,” Ragnar said, feeling excited at the prospect of marrying Hilda. Could she end up loving him? Does she already love him, like his father said? Surely not, Ragnar thought. There was no way that the beautiful and clever Hilda would ever love him, the simple, huge man who only made his wealth by killing men and taking their gold.

  He stared intently at the man behind him, enjoying the calm silence between himself and Hilda. She was actually considering living in his house, with him. No distractions; just Hilda, with him, in his house.

  Hilda

  Hilda was still trying to calm down the racing thoughts in her mind as the distant outline of Newcastle came into their view. The sun was beginning to set and stars were starting to peek through the sky. Ragnar had decided against travelling during the night; instead, they would camp under the stars for one more night.

  “We will need to go and see Ivar and the princess, when we get into the township tomorrow,” Ragnar said.

  “The princess? There’s a princess in Newcastle now?” Hilda asked.

  “Yes. Though I don’t quite understand how it happened, even though Princess Isla has explained it to me many times,” Ragnar replied.

  “Princess Isla?” Hilda said.

  “Yes?” Ragnar replied, quizzically.

  Isla. Duchess Isla. Princess Isla. It had to be the same person, Hilda thought. The same girl that she and Jack were friends with when they were children. But how was she a princess now? The thought of seeing her after all these years filled her with excitement, and she would likely know the whereabouts of Jack and her mother.

  Suddenly Hilda’s stomach tightened, at t
he terrifying thought that Princess Isla might give her an answer that she might not want to hear. That something had happened to her mother, or Jack, or both. How could they have survived without their father, Hilda thought. Hilda realised that she was not ready to face Isla. She was sure that Isla would remember her, but the idea of seeing her the very next day almost made her fall into panic.