I watch as the men start to file out of the boat and hop on to the deck one by one. I stand there, shrinking away from those who pass me by, praying they won’t notice me right away. I look around, hoping to find something sharp to stab the man, right in his throat, the one who slapped Margaret and is now guarding the rest of the children.
I know killing isn’t right, but these men slaughtered without a second thought. They need to be given a dose of their own medicine. If I am not careful, I will soon be one of their victims, so also the children still awaiting their fate on the ship.
My eyes, muted fire banking in them, linger on the man as he stands to stretch and yawn lazily. Being one of the savages, I am sure he too has taken lives ruthlessly, uncaring of the carnage left behind.
As the men rush past me, eager to greet the noisy crowd that has gathered on the land and to get back to their demon lairs, I am suddenly lifted out of the boat by the back of my dress by a huge brute of a man, wearing cream fur around his shoulders.
My heart thunders in my chest as he swings me in the air, then drops me onto a muddy, creaky dock to which the boat is tied. Considering the previous episode, my drop is gentle this time, and I crouch on my knees, fearful of his appearance. He follows my landing and jumps onto the wooden platform. Eyes dark brown, nearly black, and a shaven head tattooed with an odd symbol of a tree inside a circle, he towers over me, taller than any of the giants already here.
He is quiet as he watches me going from tense to relaxed and grunts, then nods once before walking away, taking slow strides and disappearing into the crowd of people on the docks. I feel like a lost animal as I look around in confusion. My eyes bore into the people speaking their strange syllables, and I watch some of these savages greet women and children lovingly. Did demons too have children…or wives for that matter?
Behind me comes a thud when a man hops down from the boat, and I see a familiar blond head and a sun tattoo. He smiles down at me, then walks closer before humming something out in a playful tune. “Ah, so sorry, Frey’s little mate. I nearly forgot about you. Can’t have that now, can I? I was told to bring you back to our mother’s house. Frey has some things he has to take care of on the boat, and this is a much better task than unloading everything. Well, I think so.”
These barbarians always act like I understand them...as If I know their devil’s tongue. I glare at him, my eyes on the other children still on the boat, lingering over the guard who is standing and speaking to the man who bit me—the man who has put me in this position.
What is going to happen to them now? My heart clenches tightly in my chest, and my eyes focus back on the blond man who is standing in front of me, now grinning. He then does a sweeping motion with his hand, signaling me to move forward, speaking with a slight accent. “Ladies first.”
My eyes widen, shocked that he spoke the same language I did.
“You speak English?” My voice sounded feeble and lost.
He seems to understand my words and still grinning, he replies, “A little… Now,” he grabs my shoulders and turns me around, giving me a slight push, “let’s go.”
“Where?” I ask, panicked and bothered. The man behind me continues to prod me forward, and I am afraid that if give him a hard time, I will be thrown in the water… or worse. I don’t know how to swim…
“Home.” That’s all he replies. The people around stare at us but seem to respect the man behind me and part, allowing us to walk. My eyes wander over almost every single one of them—men, women, even other children who seem to take a special interest in me as they gape at me from the crowd. One, in particular, is a brown-haired boy, a little older than I am now. Perhaps the same age as my brothers.
He peers at me curiously, but I pay him no mind.
“Home…” I repeat in a worried tone.
“Yes, home,” he says, annoyed, and sighs heavily.
I gawp more at the scenes in front of me. This doesn’t seem like home to me. I want to dig my feet into the fresh dirt, but I don’t dare, more scared than anything.
My courage is gone in seconds as flashes of people killed by them right in front of my eyes replay in my head in a loop.
It appears to be a village of sorts where everyone is busy, moving about. There are also people out on the streets, selling pelts, chickens, and other goods. Everything is happening so fast. I feel out of place among these people and their way of life. I then see a fight right in the middle of the street in front of the tavern with a crowd gathering around. The savages either holler in excitement or scream out their boos at the men, all the while laughing heartily.
I cringe away from such a scene, but the man behind continues to shove me forward, leading me to the brawl, uncaring.
Then he stops as we draw close, keeping one hand over my shoulder as if to make sure I don’t run away. He approaches a mean-looking woman, on the side of the building, leaning against the wall. Blonde and heavily made up, she gives me the look-over.
He then asks her in his tongue, “Where is Runa? I need to talk to her.” And I am back to not understanding.
The woman smirks at him and replies. “Inside. Why?”
He is quiet for some time before he says something in response, then taps my shoulder slightly which makes me narrow my eyes at him, knowing I am the topic of conversation. “I just need to talk to her... It’s about the brat... I was wondering if she would have food for her.”
The blonde woman looks down at me, then back at the blonde Viking. “Who’s the girl? And Runa’s a little busy to be going around and feeding stray brats. Though, I suppose I could whip something up for her.”
“The girl is Frey’s mate, and I see... I will come back another time.” The woman glowers over his words.
He moves around her and bypasses the crowd around the fight, and I take a quick peek at the two burly men. The taller one punches the shorter man, and his tooth goes flying. I flinch as he falls and hits the ground. The crowd cheers in excitement. Someone has finally won.
Devils... All of them, I think in my head over and over as I walk through the town of wild and bustling devils running rampant.
“Scared?” The blond mocks and acts childish. As he bends his head to look at me, I notice his long braid slips off his shoulder and runs down his back.
I stare at him, glaring, not saying anything in response. He only laughs at me some more. “Don’t worry,” he assures me, slapping my shoulder again, and I start to get irritated at the goofy blond. “You’re Frey’s little mate.”
“Mate?” I question him, frowning.
Mates...isn’t that a term used for animal couples? I heard it often when the women in the castle talked about birds or other wildlife and how they were paired.
“Yes, mate. You’re bonded with him,” he informs as we move further away from the crowded areas of the town into calmer parts.
“Who?” I ask in a worried tone.
“Frey,” he responds.
“Frey,” I retort, irritated.
Who is Frey? His name is weird.
He grins some more and instead of walking behind me, he walks side by side. He seems to be a lot easier to get along with than the other man. Well, for a devil, anyway...
“Frey is...” he says, looking up and thinking of a way to describe him, “the man with the moon.” He taps his head where his sun tattoo is.
My eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”
I touch my neck again, my eyes narrowing. Had he marked me like some animal then? So, they’re devils or perhaps just people who work for the true devils since they did bear a human face and body.
“Shouldn’t be surprised, lass,” he says, grinning. “He’s the one who brought you here and marked you.”
I stare up at him, then at the path in front of us, and notice we have come to the end of the town where the woods begin, but I do note a dirt trail that travels further up into the dark forest.
The man nudges me, urging me to go forward, and I instantly obey but at the same time feel anxious and worried.
The more I walk into the woods, the more my brain starts observing as I’m surrounded by thick and full trees.
Why are we going into the woods? Am I going to be fed to some beast or the Devil himself? Is he going to kill me by tricking me with his calm attitude?
I panic internally and outwards, and as I walk further into the woods, I look over my shoulder and see the blond man following right behind me, no longer walking side by side. He is not close yet not too far away from me.
He seems to be caught off guard when I look back and see him frowning, but his facial expression changes immediately, and he smiles again, waving at me to keep walking forward
I scowl, turning around, and my fingers curl into my palm. Shall I make a run for it? He seemed to have no interest in chasing me before, but that was during the pillaging.
Will it be different now if I make a break for it? Probably.
Should I take the chance? Probably.
Will I die? Probably.
Will I die either way? Probably.
I swallow as I think about my doom in the dark forest and have a mental talk with myself. All I can do is silently pray in my head as I continue to walk, following the trail, with the blonde Viking right behind me.
Eventually, there comes the bright light, which is the sun, putting an ending to this miserable dark trail. Once we step out of the small forest, I notice a house in the far distance, a long narrow one with a barn not too far away from it.
The more I stare, the more I notice the small things like how the houses are oddly built with geese waddling on the land and horses grazing out in the field by the large barn-like structure.
Again, my back is nudged telling me to go forward to which I comply, oddly enough. If I were to run, where will I go, anyway?
I don’t know the layout of the land; there are strange people everywhere I look. Either way, all I see is my death. I have given up, my thoughts and fears destroying me.
I climb the small hill to the house, then the blond Viking seemingly gets excited, and instead of walking behind me, he walks by my side again, moving ahead of me. Before he can get to the door, it opens, revealing an older middle-aged woman with a worn brown apron and white cotton dress.
She wipes her hands on it and stares at the blond, her eyes an icy blue and her hair midnight black and curly, much like the man with the moon on his forehead.
“Leif, who is this?” she asks in their native tongue and stares at me with curiosity, her eyes immediately zoning in on my neck which sends shivers down my spine for some reason.
The man smirks and replies to the older woman. He also turns slightly to look at me, and I suddenly feel uneasy. “Frey’s mate, apparently. A little young at the moment, but she’s gonna have to get used to our way of life, anyway. She’s a Christian...and only knows English.”
“I see,” the woman says in English with a soft accent before she smiles brightly at me. “Well, welcome to your new home, my first daughter-in-law. You have a lot to learn.”
Daughter-in-law? So, I really am that man’s... I begin to think, but I am not given time to finish my thought as the woman walks toward me, checking my neck and smiling some more.
“My little Frey has finally chosen a mate. You must be special,” she coos at me, lifting a piece of my hair and gliding her fingers through it. “Such a rare hair color too. It’s nearly white.”
At her close proximity, I can’t help but feel worried and fearful, even though she acts nice. I want to back away; something in me tells me she is a beast like the rest of them, but again I’m not given a chance when she grabs my shoulders and makes me walk by her side toward the inside of the building.
I am greeted by smoke from the fireplace, then a lounge area with benches and white and brown furs thrown over them.
The inside is cozy, I do admit, but I would give anything to be surrounded by stone, and not these wooden walls with swords and shields and furs.
She then seats me down on one of the benches, and I freeze up, looking at her. She stares at my face, examining me, and the blond Viking follows us inside the house, looking displeased by something, but I will never know what.
“You’re going to be a beauty when you grow older,” she says. “Perfect for my Frey. You’re like a little English princess.”
It’s because I am one...is what I would like to say, but I keep my mouth shut. It’s best they don’t know my heritage or that I’m royalty at all. They might use it against my kingdom.
But whatever did happen to my family?
I suddenly become worried about my mother and brothers. Are they even alive? I don’t dare to ask in fear of the truth.
“Let me get you something to eat,” she says, standing up and moving away.
Her English is good, I think in my head, wearily watching her as she goes to a pot being held over the fire.
“You must be starving,” she fusses some more, “being on that boat for so long.”
She grabs a wooden bowl and starts pouring some sort of stew into it. Though I don’t feel hungry at the moment, my stomach rolls, upset from the little food I ate on the boat, and the smell emitting from the stew makes it worse.
I feel nausea roiling in me. The fear, anxiety, worry, all affecting my mind and body. Before long, bile comes up my throat, and I make a dash for the open door. Once outside, I throw up in the grass....and on someone’s boots.
After vomiting, I wipe my mouth and resignedly look up at the owner of the boots, only to be greeted by a taller, older, scary-looking man with a flashy coat. His long black hair comes up to below his shoulders.
I awkwardly stare at him as his brown eyes bore down at me, freezing me out.
He glares in ire, then asks me a question in a deep, gruff voice but not in English, “Who are you?”
I hear footsteps behind me, and I am once again grabbed by my shoulders and pulled back. The woman speaks to him in their native tongue. “She’s Frey’s little mate that he picked up from England, dear. Don’t get mad at her. She must still be a little sick from the boat.”
In the background, I can hear someone laughing, most likely at me throwing up on this scary man. I can only imagine the culprit being the blond man from before. The woman turns around with a pointed look, and the laughter stops slowly.
“I see,” he states in English, gruffly, and turns around, most likely to clean himself. I am pulled back into the house.
“I think he’s mad,” states the blond Viking, who is again laughing with his back against the wall by the benches.
“No, he is not. Now stop it, you’re going to upset her more,” the woman warns, her voice sounding mean as she rubs my back, and I can only feel more awkward.
She continues soothing me, and I am guided back to the bench. All I can do is think about my family and the past and what life would be like with these devils in the future, especially since I am pretty sure one already hates me.
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