Through life comes death. Through war comes heartache and destruction. The gods work in mysterious ways and it is up to you to follow the path they have laid for you, but you don't always have to do it alone.
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Groaning I opened my eyes, unsure of what had happened the previous night. I was so close to forgetting, that was until a sharp pain shot through my head and I tried to relieve it but my hands were bound. Memories of the night played through my mind, Ubbe and Hvitserk's stupid plan. The brothers leaving me with Bishop Heahmund after I begged them not to and then as their figures left my site a sharp pain radiating through my body stemming from my head and darkness consuming me. Snapping back to now the ground was cold and my wrists were red and beginning to bleed from the rope around my wrists. I was reduced to my thin cotton shirt and leather pants, my furs had been taken. I could hear talking from outside the tent I was in when the light shone in nearly blinding me, it was Heahmund and Æthelwulf they were discussing something as they walked in. Sinister grins made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "well, well, well... I didn't think I would see you again," Æthelwulf began. "What are we going to do with this traitor?" Heahmund asked, "she deserves everything she gets after what she's done, I don't care what you do as long as she suffers," Æthelwulf stated and then left leaving Heahmund and I alone. "This is going to be interesting," Heahmund laughed. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me close to him as he scanned over my face, grimacing at every chance he got. Throwing me back to the ground the pain in my body worsening, he grabbed my bruised and bound hands and secured me to the pole. My shirt was ripped off of my back exposing my old scars but I knew what was to come. This had happened before, not by someone like Heahmund though, I was not prepared. Leather cracking against my skin was sure to be heard throughout the camp, I tried extremely hard to suppress my pain. With each lashing it was harder to keep quiet, I was biting my lip so hard I could taste blood in my mouth. I couldn't help but let cries escape when it felt like each hit was never ending, my back was littered in cuts with blood soaking my ripped shirt. "The ones you trust most can disappoint you most," Heahmund spoke, satisfied with his work. Once he left the cold air drifted in making each cut sting. I sat there crying wondering why I'm in this mess and where Ubbe and Hvitserk were, closing my eyes using sleep as an escape.
Waking up to yelling and the sound metal clanging Æthelwulf came barging in, "get up! We are going," he yelled. I didn't understand, where were we going, "you need to put these one," he said unbinding my wrists and throwing me a new top. "Where are we going?" I questioned not really expecting an answer. Æthelwulf glared at me and grunted, "where going to kill your heathen friends, although it looks like most of them are dead anyway. They're burning bodies in the street," he laughed. I was in shock with what I was hearing, but soon got dressed. He retied my ropes and dragged me so he could tie me to his horse, it was degrading and all of the soldiers watched and laughed. My wounds were still fresh and blood had seeped through my new shirt, I was a mess but that didn't stop me from walking tall. As we came to the entrance of York the smell of burning flesh hangs heavy throughout the air, it is silent and nothing but flames crackling. Æthelwulf untied me from his horse and we walked through the gates and the city is deserted, or so it seems. Æthelwulf has a smug look on his face as does Heahmund, what I wouldn't give to wipe those smug looks right off their faces. Of course the city wouldn't be deserted, Ivar was smarter than that there has to be more to it. It was the rats that I noticed first, they were all over the city instead of in the sewers. Sounds of viking screams were heard and hoards of them burst out of the sewers, they came from every direction fighting against the Saxons. I tried ducking out of the way of swords, axes and arrows. I needed to get the ropes off, I looked around trying to find a way out. Finally spotting an axe to my right I dodge the fighting around me and use it to cut my ropes. As soon as I am free I grab the axe and try to find my way towards Æthelwulf and Heahmund, I want them dead. I didn't care who was in my way and I didn't care about the fighting around me. I don't know how many Saxons I killed but I wanted their heads. "Arini!" I scanned around for the person who called my name, "Arini!" there it was again but it was a different voice. Trying to find the source I could see Heahmund riding on his horse, I was so angry I threw the axe in my hand and it hit his horse as did many arrows. Watching him fall made me smile but I wanted more. Ivar's voice broke my trance, he ordered his men to give Heahmund a horse. I gritted my teeth watching as he continued fighting on yet another horse, my palms were itching to kill him. Before long the fighting was over and the Saxon's had retreated. Heahmund was captured by Ivar and the celebrating continued.
"IVAR! I want his head!" I yell, not caring about any of my wounds as I walk up to an injured Heahmund and smug Ivar. Hvitserk was standing next to his brother and watched me with anticipation, Ivar scoffed. With beady eyes Heahmund stared knowing he was going to live another day, he really thought he was better than anyone else. "He is a skilled fighter, we will be keeping him alive until I am done with him," Ivar chides. A low snarl escaped me and I take one last look at Heahmund before spitting at his feet and turning in a huff to leave.
