No Safe Place

FOUR

AN: Sorry that this chapter is so short. Just some filler & interaction between Ragnar and Agnessa.

FOUR
Lothbrok

                 Her father barely said goodbye as we readied the ships. I couldn't tell if it was guilt or cruelty that kept him at a distance. Whatever his reason, I could see the hurt in his daughter's eyes.
                And the anger.
                I couldn't blame her for feeling it so openly. Her father's callus manners would have made any child angry. The way the Saxons treated their women was a contradiction. They claimed that we were the unrefined savages, and yet they are the ones that sell their children like cattle. Their own flesh and blood, bartered for land and jewels. The women's value based upon her purity.
                 I recalled the desperation in her eyes when she had told me that her father and the priest would check to be sure she was no longer a virgin. It was odd, and degrading. The thought of treating Lagertha with such disrespect made me laugh. She would easily cut off my balls and feed them to the goats. But knowing this would happen to my new wife, someone who could hardly defend herself, caused anger to boil in my chest.
     I liked seeing the rage bubble in this girl's otherwise delicate features. All of the Saxon women I'd met thus far had been quiet and dull. Anger lit a small flame inside of her, it brought her to life.
    As did fear.
    I was under no impression that the girl was not frightened by me and my men at the ceremony. Of course she was. I was more than double her size. If I wanted to hurt her, it would be simple. Just as simple as it had been to disarm her when she held the knife to my face the night before.
    Seeing the tiny dagger had been a surprise. But I had to admit that her courage impressed me. She had shown it again when she was ready to drag the blade across her own flesh to stain the bedding. It was something Lagertha would have thought to do.
    I looked at the girl now, hair tied away from her face but still left to flow freely over her shoulders. In the sunlight, it looked more honey colored than brown. Her skin didn't look as pale either. Maybe some time outside of the castle walls would be good for her.
    Her small frame was huddled near the front of our ship, where I would soon sit to lead the sail. Once they were finished glaring at her father, her dark eyes stared out over the sea. Had she ever been this close to the ocean?
    "She won't make the journey." Floki chirped in my ear, startling me from my thoughts.
    "Why do you say that?" I asked, working to keep any annoyance out of my voice. Floki was my oldest friend, but I know he disagreed with me on bringing another Christian back to Kattegat.
    "Look at her." he tossed his hand in her direction with a laugh. "She is too small."
    "You know," I grinned and threw my arm around him. "Compared to me and Rollo, you are too small. But you fight just as well." I didn't stay to hear his response. Instead, I trudged through the knee deep water and launched myself into the ship. She flinched as my boots hit the wooden floor.
             I crouched in front of her, examining her dark eyes. They truly were almost black. If the sun had not been shining brightly I'm not sure I would be able to find where the iris stopped and the pupil began.
              She refused to look at me, instead keeping her gaze locked on the outstretched ocean before us. I held onto the rope of the mast and leaned forward some, shortening the distance between our faces.
              "Your father is watching you." I said in a whisper only she could hear. Her eyes flickered to the shore briefly before returning to the sea. I watched as tears built up wetting her eyes but never falling. "He looks sad." It was true. Under the hard surface, I could see sadness and guilt etched into his face.
               "Good." Her voice was soft and to my disappointment, there was no undertone of rage. I liked what it did to the sound of her words. But she must have had years and years to practice keeping her voice steady and smooth.
             "Doesn't your God command you to respect your parents?" I smirked thinking back to a conversation I'd had with Athelstan some time ago. Their God was certainly a strange one.
              "It doesn't matter." She raised her head, letting the sun soak her face as she looked to the sky. "I think I am already in Hell."

***
Ealhunding

                If he was offended by my comment, he didn't show it. That irritated me. I wanted him to be insulted. I wanted to prove that I could hurt him, even the slightest bit.
                When the ships finally pushed off from the shore, my stomach somersaulted in both fear and amazement. How could something so large stay atop the water?
                Men and women around me dove into action. Some pulling on ropes that controlled the masts, other rowing in unison, others simply watching out beyond us. It was like a choreographed dance. Ragnar stood at the head of the boat, leaning against the great serpent head that was carved into the stempost.
                His body seemed relaxed, too relaxed for a man standing so close to his death. Surely one slip, one lurch of the ship, and he'd stumble into the freezing waters. I would have been happy to see it.
                I shouldn't think that way, I know it is wrong. Especially after what he did this morning. Imagining the scene in my chambers caused me to feel an invisible hand at my throat. Not choking or hurting me, but resting easily against my chest, the way his hand had felt when he stopped me from spilling my blood over the bed.
             I squeezed my eyes closed, willing the feeling to go away. I cannot give in to feelings of safety, of belonging. I am not protected with these men, no matter what Ragnar had done, he is not safe. No one could protect me besides myself. God had abandoned me. He was not with me on that ship. I was alone. Completely and utterly alone.
    "Princess?" A soft voice spoke from beside me. Slowly, I opened one eye to find Athelstan peering down at me. Concern was etched clearly into his features. "Does the water make you sick?" He held onto a hanging rope to steady himself as the boat rocked gently back and forth.
    "No." I shook my head, slightly surprised the motion had not made my stomach churn. I took in Athelstan's appearance with no humility. He was a complex man. Both hardened by the Northman and still soft from his years serving God. His hair had grown over the crown of his head in thick curls, covering the space that I knew was previously left shaved. His body resembled that of a soldier, solid and strong. And yet, his expression was that of a priest, placid and empathetic.
    "May I sit?" he nodded to the empty space next to me and sat when I didn't respond. Athelstan had been kind to me while he was our guest. Maybe there was some Christian left in him after all. Maybe the Pagans didn't completely erase God from his heart. I hoped they wouldn't erase him from mine either.
I realized that besides Ragnar, he was most likely the only one I would be able to communicate with. The others didn't speak my language. Perhaps I was not as alone as I thought.