The rocking of the boat made you sick. Your wrists ached from the tight bonds that also latched around your ankles, holding you in a hunched position that made your lower back throb. The man tied next to you was still as stone, skin pale.
“Jonathan,” You whispered, nudging him with your shoulder. “Jonathan, wake up.”
He didn’t move, a new ache appeared. This time in your throat as you swallowed down the urge to cry.
“Jonathan, please,” You whimpered and pushed against him harder.
He remained still. Dead. Cold. Destined to be thrown in the sea when the pagans realized he no longer breathed.
The back of your neck prickled in discomfort. You twisted your neck to find yourself caught in the glare of two startling blue eyes. The cripple. You immediately turned away, staring straight forward, trying not to think of Jonathan next to you.
The shuffling behind you caused an anxious shudder to roll up your spine and lodge in your throat. The sound of dragging drew closer until it situated itself next to you. The smell of tangy blood filled your nostrils, the urge to vomit was strong.
“He’s dead?” The crippled pagan asked.
You turned your head away from him to look at Jonathan. The quiver in your lip was answer enough for him. He spit out a harsh command in his native language and nodded towards Jonathan.
You watched helplessly as two more pagans grabbed his legs and arms, swinging him overboard with chuckles and words you didn’t understand. A splash from the body hit your cheek making you flinch.
The cripple watched your reaction with a cruel smirk. You fixed your eyes on the ground in hopes he would grow bored.
“You knew him?” He asked, accent heavy.
“Yes,” you said shortly, clenching your jaw in disgust.
“Was he your father?” The man raised an eyebrow.
“Who was he to you?” He asked curiously.
“Why do you care, heathen?” You spat angrily.
He chuckled lowly, shaking his head softly. He mumbled something to himself before raising a hand to your cheek. You stared in fear at the first touch of his cold fingers. He watched your reaction, pulling them away and dropping them to the wood boards of the boat. He dipped two fingers in a puddle of blood next to him and brought the fingers back to your cheek. He drew a thick line from the top of your cheek bone to the corner of your lips. Your throat bobbed as the urge to sob built again. The pagan admired his work before one of his companions shouted something, making him crawl away.
You knew you shouldn’t have fallen asleep among these ruffians but your eyelids had been so heavy you’d given in. Now having jolted awake, you blinked in the darkness that loomed over the boat. The only sounds on your boat were the occasional splash from the bow as it cut through the glasslike water. Some of the boats around you had torches lit and the sounds of talking and distant laughter made it an oddly homey feeling. And then your muscles practically shrieked in protest as you moved to get slightly more comfortable, the brief comfort gone.
You sighed softly and dropped your head back against the pole you were using to keep propped up. You stared at the sky, looking for familiar star constellations. There were none. The sudden realization that you’d never see England again was like a large weight on your chest that made it difficult to breath.
“Are you praying to your god?”
You startled at the thickly accented voice. You whipped your head to the left to see the blue eyed man from earlier. He smirked at your reaction before sliding off the bench he was sitting on to crawl next to you.
“Were you? Praying to your god?” He asked in confirmation again and gestured to the other captives. “The one you all worship.”
Hot anger burned in your chest as you slowly turned your head to see all of your fellow townspeople in such despair. Some were so still you were certain they’d soon be at the bottom of the sea.
“I do not worship a god who lets his people suffer like this.” You spat.
The pagan nodded slowly to himself at your words. He scooted a bit closer, leaning in close enough so his breath, which reeked of mead, fanned across your face. You refused to move away, to seem weak like earlier.
“So you no longer believe?”
“I did not say that. I said I no longer worship. I don’t worship a god who lets monsters like you slaughter entire towns. Infants, children, women, parents in front of their little ones.” Your voice cracked and you swallowed, furious with yourself for it.
“Monsters,” He mused and tilted his head with a wolfish grin, teeth glinting. “Would you worship other gods?” He pulled out a knife and stone and began sharpening the blade methodically, waiting for you answer.
“At this point I wish to worship no gods.” You whispered.
He nodded again at this, as if he actually understood. He continued sharpening the knife in silence, asking no more questions. His hair was out of the braids you’d seen before, it hung in loose waves above his broad shoulders. His eyes gleamed in the low lighting of the stars. You looked back at your grimy hands before he noticed. He tilted his head to look at you, sinking his sharp teeth into his bottom lip. When you didn’t reciprocate he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. He studied your face for a tense moment before you ripped your jaw from his grip, taking a shaky breath.
The heathen let it slide, focusing back on his knife before he put it and the rock back into his coat. He then produced a chunk of bread from his other pocket. A rush of saliva hit your tongue at the sight and scent of it.
“Hungry?” He asked and pressed it to your lips. “After all, I don’t want my slave to starve before she gets to see Kattegat.”
Your stomach dropped, you were to be his slave. He pressed the bread harder to your lips. You hesitantly opened your mouth and took a bite, not breaking eye contact as you chewed. You hated the sudden intimacy of this, him feeding you like you were helpless. When you swallowed he encouraged you take another two bites before he crammed the rest into his mouth. His cheek bulged as he chewed, washing it down with a swallow of mead. You watched his throat as he swallowed, eyes trailing after a drop the slid down his skin. He noticed and held it up for you to take a sip. You licked your lips when he pulled it away, unable to tear your eyes from it as he tipped it back again.
“You should rest, don’t wanna end up like one of them.” He said suddenly, nodding at a body currently being thrown over.
“I’ve already slept.” You responded shortly.
“Yea, for maybe an hour.” He retorted. “Sleep, it’s an order.”
“I said no,” You snapped.
He growled in frustration and dragged his fingers through his thick mane of brown hair.
“I’ll make sure no one rapes you, just.. sleep.” He insisted. “I’ll sit right here.”
“I don’t trust you either, Heathen.”
He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Well if you won’t sleep, I will.” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Fine.” You mumbled, looking back up at the stars.
Well, this got deleted twice. Fuck you very much tumblr.
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