by T S Florence
“Yes. I love your sister. I always have,” Ragnar said evenly.
“Where is mother?” Rose asked Jack hopefully.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Jack looked over his shoulder, as if he expected someone to come out from behind the back.
“Why?” Rose asked.
“She wouldn’t agree with your… situation,” Jack said.
“What do you mean my situation?” Rose asked.
“With Ragnar. Mother is… A strong believer in living in our Lord’s image,” Jack said.
“She’s a fanatic,” Rose said.
“Yes,” Jack said simply.
“Then what shall I do,” Rose asked.
“Figure out a story that doesn’t involve living with Ragnar,” Jack said.
“I am not going to lie to mother, not about this, not after all this time,” Rose said firmly.
“Oh, you haven’t changed a bit, have you,” Jack said, scratching the back of his neck.
“I have changed, quite a bit actually,” Rose replied.
“Well, so has mother. She isn’t who she was before you were taken,” Jack said.
Jack, Rose and Ragnar talked into the early hours of the morning, with not more than a few seconds of silence in any one conversation. Finally, once Rose’s head was falling onto Ragnar’s shoulder more often than she was speaking, Ragnar took her home. She had agreed to wait before meeting her mother. Jack said that meeting Elsbeth would not be as simple and joy-filled as her reunion had been with him.
Rose woke up the next day, feeling warm and protected next to Ragnar. They did not discuss where she would be sleeping when they arrived back in Ragnar’s home, but instead he took her in his arms and carried her to his room.
Ragnar lay Rose down on the bed and undressed her with the gentle care of a man whose sole purpose in life wasn’t to kill and take from other men. But Ragnar’s life was exactly that. Soon, she looked up at him with sleepy eyes, her body naked for him to see. His eyes roamed her body, before landing between her legs.
“I want you,” Ragnar said, and in one swift movement his face was between her legs, the suddenness causing Rose to gasp in surprise.
She felt his tongue immediately working its way around her most sensitive spot, causing her back to arch in pleasure. A sudden need began to arise deep in her stomach, and her moans signalled this to Ragnar.
“You want me too,” Ragnar said, as he lifted his head briefly from pleasuring her.
“Don’t stop,” she moaned.
Ragnar began to work his tongue inside of her, while he used large finger and thumb to play with her pink spot. His other hand worked its way up her stomach, until it landed on her breasts, squeezing each firmly. He moved from left to right, teasing her nipples. She looked at his muscle-bound, scarred forearms. The muscles moved about as his hands played with her body.
The sensation built up inside of her until it was too much. Her legs wrapped around Ragnar’s head, her fingers laced through his hair. She pulled his face in harder against her. Her body convulsed as she felt his mouth taking in all of her sex.
He lifted her in one smooth movement and spun her onto her stomach. Suddenly, she felt his hard length plunder her insides, the sensation causing her to yelp in a mix of pain and delight.
“Ragnar,” she moaned.
After only several moments, she felt him pulse inside of her, his seed filling her, spilling out onto the sheets. After peeling his heaving, sweaty body from her, He wrapped her up in his arms and carried her to the tub, where she fell asleep again in his arms as he cleaned her body.
Rose noticed that the bedroom door was open ajar, with a hushed whispering that halted as she raised her head to see who was talking. The noise stopped as soon as she moved, and the door clicked shut. Rose leaped to her feet, with the intention to see who was looking through the door, but realised she was still naked.
“Ragnar,” Rose shook Ragnar, causing him to emit a groan which would have rivalled that of a grizzly bear being woken from hibernation.
“What is it?” Ragnar asked, without anger.
“Someone was looking into the room,” Rose whisper-shouted, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up at the thought of someone prying into her life.
“It was probably the maids,” Ragnar said.
“Why would they be looking into your room?” Hilda asked.
“Maids are nosey. They like to know what their master is doing,” Ragnar sighed, before he rolled over and pulled Rose towards him, wrapping his arm around her, cocooning her in his muscled arms.
“They were whispering to each other,” Rose said. She was unaccustomed to people seeing her sleeping.
“Like I said, nosey maids,” Ragnar said. “I will speak to them and tell them to mind their business.”
She looked at him, taking confidence in his sleepy, confident eyes. A knock at the door took her attention away from his deep, rumbling chest.
“Rose,” Brenna whispered through the door. “Rose, are you awake?”
“Brenna?” Rose asked.
“There are markets on today, bigger than anything I have ever seen in Fyrkat, do you want to come?” Brenna asked.
Rose looked at Ragnar, who shrugged his arms. “I need to train anyway, why don’t you go with your friend,” Ragnar yawned.
“Ok,” Rose said, kissing Ragnar on his forehead.
Brenna was waiting for Rose in the courtyard, admiring the immaculately manicured gardens. The perfectly trimmed flowers matched the ancient Roman artwork on the walls.
“Why don’t you think the Romans came to our countries?” Brenna asked as they walked out of the building, obviously taking in the same artwork that Rose was.
“I would say either they couldn’t find it, or they did find it and saw that it was full of vikings, or they understood that trying to expand an empire that far would not be economically or strategically beneficial,” Rose said.
“Wow, you’ve thought about that a lot?” Brenna asked.
“No, not really,” Rose shrugged.
“You must have received good education before you left England,” Brenna said.
“My father did invest in private tutors. Priests and nuns would teach us numbers, logic, and language,” Rose said.
“What does Ragnar think of your mind?” Brenna asked, as they walked down the cobblestone road.
“It annoys him when I correct him too much, but other than that he never seemed to mind,” Rose said.
As they rounded the corner they were met with the noise of bustling markets, Rose felt eyes turn towards the pair of them.
“Mummy, it’s the two viking girls that came back,” a boy said as he pointed at Brenna.
“Don’t point at them,” the mother grabbed her boy’s arm, and dragged him away, but not before giving a wary scowl to both of the girls.
“That was strange,” Brenna said, as though suddenly feeling the self-consciousness that comes with living in a place that you are not welcome.
“We’re just new, that’s all. Travellers would be stared at in Fyrkat all the time,” Rose said, though her grip on Brenna’s arm suggested that she felt more worried than she wanted to let on.
A brightly coloured stall caught Rose’s eye, and the wool that was being sold took distracted her from the eyes, and drew her in.
“How much is the blue pull over?” Rose asked the man at the stall.
“Ten silver pieces,” He grumbled, not bothering to make eye contact with her.
“Ten? This would not be worth more than 6 pieces in a slow season!” Rose exclaimed.
“Your English is good for a Northern whore,” The man replies.
“Excuse me?” Rose clipped, feeling heat rush to her face.
“How did you learn English? Did your vikings bring back captured priests to teach you God’s language?” The man spat.
Brenna, who could not speak English conversationally, looked at Rose with wide eyes, “Rose, what have you
said to upset this man?” She asked.
“I did not say anything, it is he who is being offensive,” Rose said back in Norse.
“Stop speaking your filthy devil language at my stall, you northern whores” The man growled.
“I’m English,” Rose said, fighting to steady her racing heart as people began to stop and listen to the exchange.
“If you’re English, then you’re a betrayer of England and God,” the man said scrunching his blotchy face in disgust.
Rose took Brenna’s hand and dragged her through the sea of people that had formed a crowd around the man’s stall, all of them eager to watch the public exchange between the two.
“Don’t you all have your own business to tend to?” Rose said to the crowd as she shouldered her way through.
She knew that it would take time for people to grow accustomed to her presence, but how long, she did not know. The fear and hatred of vikings was present when she had been taken, and judging from the increasing presence of vikings since she had been gone, she could only imagine the hatred that festered and grown amongst the common people during her absence.
Rose knew that she was English at heart, and she knew that she could make these people accept and respect her again, it was just a matter of figuring out how.
8
Ragnar
Ragnar watched as Rose and Brenna stormed into his courtyard. He put down his sword, and gestured his head toward the buckets of water, signalling for his men to take a break.
“What’s the matter?” Ragnar huffed.
“You didn’t tell us how much people hated us,” Rose growled at him.
“The English love us,” Ragnar laughed.
“They don’t love you, Ragnar, they fear you,” Rose clipped.
“How do you know this?” Ragnar asked.
“Because as soon as we went outside of this place without you, they showed us what they truly thought,” Rose said.
“Then I will go and deal with these people. Come with me and point them out,” Ragnar said.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Rose huffed.
“People are disrespecting you,” Ragnar growled.
“I don’t want them to be afraid, Ragnar, I want to be accepted,” Rose clipped, before walking to the kitchen where a large bucket of water was kept, so she could wash her face, and clear the dried perspiration that had shone on her forehead.
“You’re still my responsibility. I will do what I need to do to ensure your protection,” Ragnar shot back, as he followed her inside.
Brenna stayed back in the courtyard, sensing a rising tension between the two.
“Stop being a horse’s ass, Ragnar,” Rose said, as she wiped her face with a fresh linen cloth.
“I am being a horse’s ass, are you listening to yourself? You are attacked in the streets and you wish to do nothing. Men rule with fear, nothing else,” Ragnar clipped.
“I don’t want to rule anything, I want to live in peace in my home country,” Rose hung the towel back up, and attempted to storm past Ragnar, but he side stepped, blocking her path, causing her to bump into him.
“Well since you’re going to be with me, then you will be ruling something, someday,” Ragnar looked down at Rose, as he took her by her shoulders. He felt her soft breath against his chest, her bright blue eyes looked up at him searchingly, as though she were looking for an answer in his scarred face.
“You’ve decided I’m just going to be with you, since I always have been?” Rose clipped.
“I will prioritise your safety over your happiness,” Ragnar shot back, as he stared down at her big eyes, feeling humoured at her annoyance, and silently knew that his answer would rouse her even further.
“You think they are mutually exclusive?” Rose snapped.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ragnar said.
“Of course it wouldn’t! As long as you get to swing your stupid axe or sword around like the same silly boy you were four years ago, you don’t care about how I feel,” Rose said.
“My silly axe saved your life, Hilly” Ragnar said.
“Hilly? I thought I was no longer your slave?” Rose tried to push Ragnar, but her hands made a dull thud against his chest.
“I thought we were bringing up the past, sorry,” Ragnar said.
“You are truly a goat’s turd, Ragnar. You don’t care about me, or my feelings, all you care about is some stupid legacy and respect from men whose names you do not know,” Rose shot back, her face pink with anger.
“You might be smart but you know nothing about this,” Ragnar said back, feeling his own temper beginning to rise.
“You abandoned your own family. You weren’t there for your own mother’s funeral. You did not shed a single tear for your own mother’s death,” Rose spat, her nostrils flaring with anger.
“Leave,” Ragnar growled, as he stepped to the side.
“Gladly, Earl Ragnar the Destroyer,” Rose’s voice dripped with sarcasm and spite.
Ragnar did not think the situation would spiral so far or so quickly and he did not see his own temper getting so far from balanced when he followed Rose into the kitchen.
He swiped his hand across the kitchen counter in a moment of rage, smashing an assortment of clay pots that were holding various fine wines and other liquids. Maids rushed into the room and started cleaning the room, all while managing to keep their eyes from looking at Ragnar.
Rose
Rose rushed past Brenda, as a sound of crashing pottery sounded out through the yard, causing men to stop their training and look at Rose as she left the yard. Brenda followed her and took hold of her arm, as if she was afraid Rose would disappear into the bustling mix of people that made their way up and down the street.
“I hate him,” Rose sobbed, as she took Brenda’s hand in her’s.
“You definitely do not, and you shouldn’t say such things. It’s fine to express anger and frustration with someone, but confessing false hatred is not healthy,” Brenna said in a calm voice.
“You can ride a horse, can’t you,” Rose said, as she turned to look at Brenna, ignoring her advice.
“Yes…?” Brenna said.
“We will take the mare,” Rose said.
“To where?” Brenna asked.
“To the castle on the hill,” Rose said.
Rose requested for a slave to assist her and Brenna to saddle the horse, and within several minutes, they were weaving between streams of people, heading towards the castle of Newcastle.
“I’ve never been inside a castle, are you sure the princess won’t mind?” Brenna asked.
“Princess Isla is lovely, and I’ve known her since I was a child, she will be fine,” Rose said back, knowing it to be true.
They passed the blacksmith shelter, but the man out the front was an older, more rotund man. An elderly woman with white streaked blond hair stood with him. she watched him work with a scowl on her face.
Rose could clearly see the frown lines set deep into her face, from years of a perpetually disappointed face. She did not look quite like Rose’s mother, for she was too old and mean looking. Rose’s mother was a beautiful and kind woman. At least, she was when Rose still lived with her.
Rose’s heart begged her to go in and ask Jack to take her to her mother, but her head was stronger, as it had been trained to be, since the day she was taken from her father. She knew that what her brother had said came from his heart, and that he believed that her mother was not in a healthy place. She needed to be smart. She needed to be a God worshipping English woman.
As they approached the castle, Rose could see men with brightly tipped warrior spears guarding the front gates.
“M’lady,” They both said in unison as they drew near.
“Excuse me?” Rose replied, as they stood aside and the gates opened.
“The princess gave us your description and ordered us to let you through should you come to the castle,” they said.
As they trotted through, B
renna whispered in Rose’s ear “You know the guards?” She asked.
“I guess so?” Rose replied, shrugging her shoulders.
Rose saw Isla’s husband, Ivar, training in the main yard. She wondered briefly why he was not training with Ragnar, but disregarded the thought and handed the reigns of the horse to the stable boy.