It had been written that the daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok was taken to Valhalla as a young girl.
But what if the gods didn't take her? What if the gods spared her?
Gyda Ironside, the only daughter of Ragnar and Lagertha rejoins her family as a train...
Anxious was hardly the word to describe it. As we marched on towards the battlefield to meet the consequences of horik's actions.
My heart was in a constant rapid beating that was far from normal. Every movement agitated me and nothing sat within my grasp without the fumbles of my shaking hands.
Our army was perched atop a hill, our forces were in a way divided. Horik and his warriors were moving down towards the king Ecbert's forces, putting themselves within a steep ditch.
Whilst my father and mothers warriors all stood still, unsure of how this was going to work out. Horik believed to have the advantage because the kings army was below us but how could king Ecbert, who knows these lands better than any of us, make such an unfavorable move.
As Horik makes his way down signaling for the rest of us to follow too, father gestures us on with his arms—a concerned look upon his features.
As we slowly made our way down the hill, I realize how loud my breathing had gotten. With each step down a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach stirred. I gasp at a sudden touch. But relax as I realize who it is. She takes a hold of my free hand, squeezing it tight.
"Hey, you alright?"
"This isn't smart, we must be walking into a trap."
"Do not be afraid. I'm right here with you." She pulls back and continues walking. Whilst she had a good intention, it didn't help.
Just a few more seconds and we would meet in the middle with Ecbert's warriors. The sound of axes banging on shields and war cries was all that surrounded us—at least for a second.
Looking to the right, an array of soldiers mounted the hilltop, looking down upon us. Then to the left, another array on horseback. We were trapped in the middle. We were sitting ducks.
"Shield wall!"
At my fathers words myself and others ran to the left side whilst others took the right. With Shields tighten around our forearm we pushed and fitted together to create our defense—but there was no way this would hold against horses charging downhill.
The soldiers begin to ascend down, picking high speeds from the slope of the hill. At this time I realize there was no time for fear, if one of us breaks this wall, we all fall.
"Hold! Hold the wall!"
We all scream in unison.
Tucking my head down against the shield, we all lean against surrounding warriors and push to keep it strong— shouting our war cries as we did.
In a second I hear the impacts of clashing metal and flesh—I watch as the man beside me was ran down faster than I could blink away.
His body lay unconscious, bleeding wounds from the horses hooves and the soldiers sword made him almost unrecognizable as he lay trampled in the torn up soil. As I predicted, this whole thing was a mess and it was hard to tell if we would make it out alive at all.
With soldiers implementing through each shield wall, I was forced to turn away from the wall and take on the ones who got through.
With a running start I knock a Saxon off one of our warriors with my shield then proceed to slice his neck, his blood spraying on my armor.
To my left, a yell than enters my ears as a Saxon raises his sword high to bring down on me. I quickly position my shield to take the hit than impale him through his stomach—he falls and another takes his place.
Swinging his sword in every direction, making me retreat back. As he got closer and closer I felt myself begin to panic. Finally I regain a strong stance and clash my steel against his own. We parry against each other for a short while, he comes close a number of times to slashing me— but he is shut down when he trips backwards on a dead body and my sword without hesitation dug itself deep into his chest.
Time seemed unmeasurable with each Saxon that I fought against. The sword within my hand had never felt more comfortable, it became more cohesive with each blow it struck upon the enemy.
A moment came when I could finally breathe, when there was no soldier coming for me. With that short moment I take the time to scan the mess we got ourselves in.
Many of our warriors were trampled on or slashed down on the dirt. Our defense was broken and nothing was going in our favour.
And to prove this point more right, another king had made an appearance and with him, more warrior to outnumber us.
As I stand there watching the horses and men charge down the hill once more, I almost wished not to move. In this present moment all the killing and all the mayhem, was dulling every bit of sense within myself.
I watch on as the horses trample many and among them was my uncle. With ducking low and running fast, I avoided the brute force of the Saxons and ran to my uncle.
"Rollo!" My knees skid across the ground as I knelt beside him, his armor was penetrated from the horse and blood was seeping out, blood sprayed from his mouth at each trying breath he took.
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A shadow then envelopes me. A Saxon was a few seconds away from slicing me down, my body was facing the other way—there was no way I could react, I was surely done for.
Eira comes charging through, knocking the man clean off to the ground beside me. She doesn't get the chance to finish the job as another soldier charges towards her.
The soldier in the ground screams in anger as he laid on his back with his sword ready to strike me again, but I'm quick to react this time.
I get on top of him, pressing him still between my knees. I take my dagger in my boot and fight to push it through his neck. There is a great struggle as I had to use my other hand to hold his own sword away from me.
In an attempt to end the struggle I bring my head clashing into his face. He groans in pain as blood immediately spurts from his nostril. I push through his grasp and drive the blade into his throat. He gasp as he watches me. A moment later he does.
I roll off back towards Rollo. Blood rapidly dripped from my face and body— it was everywhere, I felt it dampen my through my clothes. Looking up, Eira is now standing beside me, as she wards off any who tried to get near Rollo.
"Rollo! Stay awake! I'm right here, it's Gyda. I'm right here!"
But I get no response, he just lays there unconscious. I could even make out if his body was breathing.
"Rollo?" I grip his face harshly. Tears brimming.
"Gyda we have to go!" I look up and Eira is pleading with me, her hand on my shoulder. "Your father has called for a retreat!"
I take a look at Rollo again.
"We can not just leave him!"
"There's nothing else we can do for him Gyda, if we stay here we will die!"
She is right. Packs of Saxon soldiers were making there way to us. The battle was lost. With kissing Rollo's head once more, I take Eira's hand and run back up the hill.
I felt sick in my stomach as I look back and see the body of uncle left amongst the dirt, abandoned as we ran. I pray the gods don't take him.
