Northumbria ✓

4

Her eyes fluttered open, and as she felt the calm around her, she thought maybe she just dreamed about the attack. That was until she heard the familiar female voice. She sat up, her eyes focusing on that pregnant woman, Ronja, and then on the man, Ubbe. Her throat tightened, and she reached for her blanket to cover herself even more.

She scoffed, "What are you doing here," she asked rudely. Ubbe turned to the pregnant woman sprawled over the chair, and he said something in a foreign language. Aethelthryth furrowed her brows, and the black-haired woman answered something back.

"Ronja wants to speak with you." The attractive male answered for the woman. Ronja watched them with squinted eyes as if she was trying to translate what they were saying. Aethelthryth pulled the blanket around her and shifted closer over the bed, "About what?"

Ronja looked at Ubbe. He once again said something in that cold language with an annoyed expression. Ronja rolled her eyes before answering this time herself in a broken English, "About how you could be useful to us." Aethelthryth gritted her teeth in annoyance.

Ronja nodded for Ubbe to continue, "We have heard about the whispers of a possible marriage between you and King's brother, Alfred." Aethelthryth scoffed at the sentence and clambered out of bed, this time not caring about her nightgown. "There will be no marriage!" Ubbe turned to look at Ronja as she burst out laughing. What the pregnant woman found funny, Aethelthryth had no idea.

"How old are you?"The pregnant woman asked, looking at Ubbe for confirmation that what she said was correct. Aethelthryth squared her shoulder, "I am of seventeen winters." Ronja raised a confused brow before she looked at Ubbe. He waved his hand and said something. Both of Ronja's brows raised before she focused her dark eyes back onto her.

"Your father was a King of Northumbria right," Ubbe translated the question.

"What have you done to my father?" She gave a question of her own. Ronja paused before she caressed her stomach.

"Osbert, yes, he impaled himself on my sword," Ronja said the words so jokingly that Aethelthryth wanted to believe that they were a joke. But she knew better than that. These cruel people killed for fun.

Aethelthryth took a step towards her, "The lords of Northumbria didn't respect him as King. If they did, you would've been defeated." Ronja snorted before she looked at Ubbe and outstretched her hand like a child. The tall man rolled his eyes before helping the pregnant woman to her feet. She held Aethelthryth's eyes.

Ubbe translated whatever Ronja said, "We are giving you a chance to keep your life and the lives of your friends." Ronja advanced towards her. "All you have to do is write to all of those Lords and make them agree to meet us," Ubbe translated again. Aethelthryth gave a distrusting look. One that Ubbe had to admit looked cute.

"Don't you wish to see how those feeble men bow, especially to a woman?" This time it was Ronja who spoke, once again, in her broken English. Aethelthryth did want to see that. She wanted those men, who proclaimed themselves to be Christians and then did disgusting things in his name or behind locked doors, to bow down. More importantly, she wanted them to bow to her, not to some Viking Queen. To some woman who thought she could kill her people, her father, and sit on the throne that belonged to her family.

This woman seized her home, and she would be stupid to let her command her. Her mother didn't bow to Aelle and she wouldn't bow to these pagans either. Well, she wasn't going to bow down to anything unless she got something from it, "Fine, I shall write to the lords, but you will swear to keep thy men on a leash, so they do not touch me, nor my friends!" Ronja looked to Ubbe before shrugging her shoulder.

"Deal," she announced before waddling out of the room. Why did the woman still possess an ounce of threat even though she was heavily pregnant and could hardly walk? Ubbe stepped closer to her making her lose her thought.

"You should get dressed. Ronja will want to make a show out of the deal." Aethelthryth's brows furrowed unsurely. What did he mean by that? Almost uncertainly, she nodded. Was he this tall last night? Or was he this muscular? Her hands turned clammy at his close promiscuity. He nodded at her when all she could do was stare at him with a gaping mouth. As he was a few steps away, she finally picked up her courage.

"Ubbe wait" —she took an impulsive step towards him— "thank you for not taking the knife away." There was drop-dead silence surrounding them as his back was still to her. What was he thinking? He pulled the dagger from behind his belt before gingerly putting it on the table.

He didn't turn, only tapped the blade, "This will be better than the dull knife." With those words, he left, leaving his knife behind. Was he stupid, she asked herself. Letting her have that dull knife was one thing but giving her his very own and probably very sharp knife was another.

Did he want her to gut him in his sleep? She walked towards the table cautiously, waiting for someone to barge into the room, and accuse her of stealing it. Which would then probably lead to her using it. Not that she was ready to use it, not that she would ever be. She never even stabbed anything, and she hated the sight of blood. But, she would sooner go into a state of fatigue than stay defenseless.

She picked it up and looked over the sharpened blade to the wooden handle. The handle had delicate carvings over it, symbols she didn't recognize, but probably were symbols of his Gods. At the top, the handle had been shaped like a hammer. With the delicacy he put on the table, it made her think, that it was maybe one of his favourites. How many people did he kill with this dagger? She didn't even want to know.

Berserker will soon reach 5k reads which is so unbelievable for me even though it seems like such a small number. Like holy shit

Which one of Ragnar's sons do you find the most attractive?