No Safe Place

ONE

Hi! Thanks for choosing No Safe Place.
I'll start by saying this is not exactly cannon, which is what makes it a fanfic, right?
Ragnar x OC- slow burn. Story will change point of view which is signaled by last name... you'll see what I mean.

I obviously don't own Vikings or any of the characters (regrettably) except Agnessa.

Super slow/sporadic updates. Sorry.
Happy reading!

ONE
Ealhunding

    My father is not a bad man. He is greedy and manipulative, but his intentions have always been for the good of our country. I had watched him eat and drink with the Northmen. Watched him greet them as old friends. He offered them land to farm and colonize.
    He had been a tough father, one not shy of violent punishments when his children disobeyed. A fan of the whip to keep his servants and children in line. I have the scars to prove it.
    But I wouldn't say he was a bad man.
    Troubled, maybe. But the word bad should be reserved for men like the Northmen. Men who raid and pillage and rape and murder and steal. Those are bad men. My father is many things, but not that.
    Perhaps that is why I do not believe the words he is speaking to me now. Because a bad man would have made this decision. A good man would not have. Bad men trade their family, their daughters, like cattle. Good men do not.
    I had not been allowed to attend the feast he shared with the Northman yesterday. He had insisted that I stay in my chambers and that food be brought to me. I thought it had been an act of protection, a way for him to shield me from the savages, as I was always invited to his meetings with powerful men. My father valued my intelligence, just as he valued Athelwulf's battle skills.
    But now I see that was not the case. He wasn't protecting me from those men. He hadn't wanted me to get in the way of his trade. My father knew me well. He knew I would not have sat idly beside while my fate was determined over roasted pig and fermented wine. No matter how hard my father had tried to force me to grow into a submissive woman as a child, I would not become one.
    "No." I said flatly, interrupting my father.
    "Nessa," he sighed, signalling that he was about to launch into another drawn out speech about responsibility to the crown. The way he uses my childhood nickname in a time like this makes my throat swell. "I do not think you understand the..."
    "I would rather die." I did not scream the statement. I could never scream at my father. I loved him, even when I hated him. I had learned as a girl that raising my voice to my father, showing blatant disrespect, would end in punishment.
    "This is quite possibly the most important moment in our history." he swirled the wine around in his cup. "And regrettably, I am the one burdened with these decisions." His voice was taking on a hardened tone, one I was only used to hearing when I was nearing his limits. As a child, I had a habit of getting in trouble, going places children were not allowed, doing things children, or rather women, should not do. The first time I remembered hearing that tone was after guards had broken Aethelwulf and I apart in a brawl. We were fighting over a trinket one of the village blacksmith had made. That was the day I learned that my father's wrath could be turned on his own children. I still had the scars to remind me. It was also when I learned that women were not meant to fight, or own toy swords.
    "Regrettably?" I challenged his words. Had we been discussing any other topic, I would have conceded. But this was not some trivial decision. This was a devastating one. This was my life we were speaking of. "You don't sound very regretful, father. How long have you been planning this trade?" Despite my best efforts, I felt the blood rising to my cheeks.
    "Do you think I take this decision lightly?" he slammed his cup on the table. "You are my daughter! My only daughter!"
    "Who you have chosen to sell to a savage like a prized steer!" I cried out, losing what little control I still had over my emotions. "Father, our army outnumbers these Pagans 10 to 1. We have won against them before, or don't you remember? It was me who developed the battle strategy! And now you want to throw me away like..."
    "We are forming an alliance." my father pinched the bridge of his nose as he cut off my sentence. For the first time I  noticed how exhausted he truly looked. "I am sorry Agnessa. I truly am." He pushed his chair back and left me sitting alone at the long wooden table.
    "I won't do it!" I called after him, knowing that it was untrue. The only way out of this was through death, and I could not take my own life. That I knew for sure.
    My mind drifted to the Northmen. I had seen them only once when I stood behind my father as he welcomed them at our gates. They were massive, dwarfing even our largest soldiers. Their clothes and skin had been stained with dirt and blood.  Stories of their destruction, their disregard for life had travelled throughout Europe. What would happen to me once I belonged to them?
    Maybe death was my only option.