"ѕнe waѕ тнe ғιre тнaт ĸepт тнe world вυrnιng."
She was a girl, outcast by her home in England and imprisoned for her crimes. That is until Earl Ingstad, (otherwise known as Lagertha Lothbrok) the ex wife of Ragnar Lothbrok, freed her and took her b...
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3rd Person:
"What do you mean she hasn't come home?" Hilda questioned in total confusion. Sure, everyone was aware that Aneira needed her space but never like this. She wouldn't just disappear. Moreover, she wouldn't miss seeing Ivar off from the shores of Kattegat, even if they weren't on the best of terms at present.
"She never came home yesterday after she left the docks. I've looked around, no one has seen her. I'm beginning to worry." Egil explained frantically.
"Worried about what?" Ubbe approached the pair curiously, not overly concerned.
"Aneira. She's missing." Hilda declared.
Aneira's POV:
I shot up from the ground, eyes frantically darting around the room. Heavy metal chains dug into my skin, leaving behind bloody red marks. My heart pounded against my chest, screaming for freedom. Where was I? Would I ever escape?
The dim light shone through cracks in the wall, beating against my skin and reminding me of the outside world. I could feel the wind howling, hear it roar against the walls outside and then slip inside the room with delicate precision only to snake its way up my skin.
The door opened and I jolted back, scrambling into the protection of a dark little corner of the room.
"Well, well, look who's awake." The man whom had entered my confinement grinned.
"Who are you?" I croaked out, "What do you want with me?"
"The same as we want with all our girls. Slaves. You'd be smart not to put up a fight." He answered darkly.
A fake smile creeped onto my lips as I realised my only chance of survival was to get free. The illusion of weakness is the greatest strength. I crawled out of the shadows slowly, a sweet and innocent look on my face. "I know that now. You beat me, I'm yours. Let me prove myself to you."
He looked down at me before crouching to my level, "This is for my friend." He said and suddenly I felt a fist plummet into my skull. I whimpered, being knocked back by its force. "I'm glad you've seen sense. Now, eat, I can't have a half starved slave."
Another man came in, shoving a bowl full of disgusting looking mush towards me. I grimaced. All this time, I'd been used to hunting and cooking for myself. My food was never cold or damp or utterly disgusting. This, on the other hand...
I used my fingers, dipping them into the mushy substance to scoop it up and then placed it in my mouth. It wasn't glamorous but it was the only way I could eat. And I desperately needed energy. He was right, I was starving. I can't win a fight like this.
He walked out, slamming the door closed from behind me. I sighed, lying back against the wall. I had to get out of here.
