Asta is a Viking raised by Saxons. When she discovers a way home to her people, she first finds her way to the family of Ragnar Lothbrok. At first, she expects to find only revenge. Little does she know, that it is love she will find instead.
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It was evening before the sons of Ragnar appeared. Darkness had settled in, and the bustling market had moved on to sit beside the hearths of home.
Asta had spent the day with Aslaug and Edmund. The man, whom she'd later realised was Bjorn - the eldest son of Ragnar - had left to tell his brothers of the news. Meanwhile, she had told Aslaug her story and how she had come to find her way back to Kattegat.
Aslaug had not been quite so welcoming to Edmund as she had been to Asta. The girl noted the suspicion in her eyes when she looked over at her Christian friend.
Asta, of course, had assured the Queen that no Christian God and his promise of salvation had been enough to tempt her away from her faith in the allfather, Odin. She'd already told Edmund, before they left, that Aslaug was a Volva, and a great believer in the Gods. And that he should not speak of his devotion to God to her. So, Edmund remained silent. Not for himself, but rather because he did not wish to get in the way of Asta returning to her people. It had been all she'd dreamed of for as long as he'd known her, and he could not imagine how it felt for her to finally be here now.
Aslaug had talked to her about what had happened in her absence, about how Ragnar had left shortly after the siege on Paris, and how Lagertha had regained her Earldom oncemore. She'd also spoken about Asta's parents; stories about them that had previously been forgotten to the sands of time. Stories that Asta never knew, because she had been raised by strangers. Kind strangers, good strangers, but strangers nonetheless.
When the sons of Ragnar returned, they were rowdy and loud but fell suddenly silent as soon as they saw Asta with their mother. Ubbe and Hvitserk were the first to pause, Sigurd walking into them when they suddenly stopped, and finally Ivar crawling in behind them to see what they were looking at.
"Mother," Ubbe's voice was questioning, all eyes never leaving Asta - except occasionally to glance at the young man beside her. "Who's this?"
Aslaug smiled, beckoning her sons in to join them beside the fire. "This is Asta," She answered. "Her parents were great friends of your father and I. They were killed by King Ecbert in the settlement in England. And this is her friend Edmund, who has taken care of her since then."
The brothers sat around the fire, Hvitserk beside Asta and Ubbe beside him. Ivar was on the other side of the girl, at the head of the table, and Sigurd sat beside Edmund on the other side.
"You're a Christian?" Ivar spoke up, eyeing the young man closely, his glare intimidating and unwavering. Edmund froze, looking back towards Asta for help as he remained unsure what to say. Yes, he was a Christian. But how could he say that without ruining Asta's chance to return to her people?
"He is." Asta confirmed, jumping in. "But only because he has never been exposed to the Gods. If he had, how could he ever be Christian?"
Oncemore, all attention turned towards Asta. Aslaug gave a coy smile, the knowledge she already possessed making the interaction all the more entertaining for her. This girl was the only girl she'd ever seen who had no fear in her eyes, nor nerves in her heart, when she spoke to the Ragnarssons. She was fierce, the Queen could see that, and wise.
"Well said," Aslaug answered, noting the fire in her youngest son's eyes as he watched the young girl. It was a fire of anger that Aslaug was all too familiar with seeing in him. "You yourself lived with these Christians though, was that not hard for you after what happened?"
The memories of the past seemed to bubble up, and Asta looked over at her dear friend for reassurance as she helplessly fell into the lonely world of losing her parents. The fire, the blood, the screams and cries that echoed from the settlement.
Her mother's bludgeoned body, and her father's charred corpse beside her.
These were things that Asta could never forget.
"Of course it was not easy." She whispered coldly. In truth, Asta had not cried in years. She couldn't cry. Her grief was the cold kind, the sort that left her feeling hollow and numb instead of filled with emotion. Finally, she met Edmund's gaze once again. He sent her a small smile, the kind that always fueled her and urged her on. "But the people that took me in were kind, they took care of me. Even if they were Christians, I suppose it was not so bad in the end."
Ivar scoffed beside her, while the other brothers and their mother all welcomed her with warmth. Though she had so many distant memories of caring about Ivar, she knew it had been a very long time. Things had changed, both of them had changed. Ivar was not the kind boy that she once knew and nor was she. And in any case, she doubted that he remembered at all anyone.
Of course, she would be wrong to assume such a thing. Ivar never forgot anything, least of all the girl that had been dragged from his arms weeping to start her new life in England. He'd always thought of her, often dreamt of her and wondered what she was doing in that moment. Was she happy? Had she forgotten him? Had she moved on with her life and fallen in love? He hadn't. He couldn't. The only girl that had ever paid him any attention was her. For who would want a cripple?
And now she was back. She was beautiful, strong, witty, and followed closely by this Christian boy. This boy that looked at her like she was an angel sent by his god, who he had no doubt was in her bed. Of course he was. She was beautiful, she could have any man. No doubt, his brother's would try to bed her as well. And she would not think twice of course, no other girls did.
Just like that slave girl, Margarethe.
"Ivar," Aslaug's voice made the boy lift his gaze, his scowl ceasing as he looked towards his mother - the only one who'd ever truly loved him. "You remember Asta, don't you? The two of you were close as children."
When he looked back at the blonde, Ivar could see something in her eyes - a moment of hopefulness as she looked over at him. But what she was hoping for, he didn't know or care about. "No." He answered flatly, making a small frown etch its way onto her lips. "That was a long time ago."
"Well, she remembered you." Edmund grinned, making both Asta and Ivar dart their eyes towards him. As Asta's eyes grew wide, Ivar could feel a small smirk tugging at his lips in response to her panic. The girl booted her friend under the table, a warning to shut up and stop talking, but Edmund had always liked to tease her. "Asta used to talk about the sons of Ragnar a lot. Especially Ivar The Boneless."
"That was a long time ago too." She gritted her teeth, knowing that her cheeks were burning red at Edmund's jesting. "A lot has happened since then." Finally, the young blonde stood and dusted herself, Edmund quickly following in suit. "I am tired from our long journey..."
"Of course," Aslaug smiled. With the small wave of her hand, two slaves rushed to their sides to assist them. "My servants will show you to your beds. If there is anything that you need, just let them know."
"Thank you Queen Aslaug." She returned politely, looking back to the brothers, her eyes lingering on Ivar for a moment longer than she had expected. "You have been most generous."
