The Nephilim & The Maiden

F o r R a g n a r (ᛗature)

A/N: This chapter contains details of blood and gore. I put a couple of asterisks between the bit that depicts the battle between King Aelle and the Vikings so if blood and gore and stuff isn't your cup of tea you know what part to skip :)

Cold sea water sprayed over the side of the long ship as it cut through the waves, making its way ever closer to England. Huddled in the a small space at the back of the boat, I peered over the side and looked out at the sails that followed. Stretching out my sore legs, I rubbed my calf muscles trying to get out the stiff feeling that had settled in from not being able to walk much. More water sprayed over the side of the boat and soaked my face, making me wipe the salty water away with the sleeve of my tunic.

Of all of the things I imagined about the voyage to England, feeling this restless and trapped was not one of them. Not only was I confined to this fifty foot vessel but I was also not aloud out of direct eyesight of Ivar.

"Since we both know I cannot trust you, little one, you will stay by my side for the journey." He spoke as I boarded the vessel back in Kattegat. "I wouldn't want you to make any new alliances." Ivar added as he stared coldly at Florian who walked across the plank onto our boat carrying huge sacks of supplies.

We had been sailing for almost a week, five days to be precise. Five days of being under Ivar's constant gaze. I prayed for Thor to strike me down with one of his lightning bolts or for Njorn to drag me down into the abyss below and drown me. I had half a mind to curse them out for not hearing me but I wouldn't want to anger the gods considering they had given us favorable weather and strong winds this whole journey.

Vidar was none too pleased with being confined to the small space of the boat nor the constant rocking of the waves. He was cuddled at my side, head resting on my leg looking pathetic. Ivar begrudgingly let me bring the wolf along. Something to keep me busy and out of trouble, he reasoned.

"Bjorn!" Halfdan's voice called over from his ship. Bjorn's head perked up from his rowing seat before he stood and looked to Halfdan. Halfdan stood at the front of his ship, arm wrapped around the serpent's neck that decorated the front of the boat and hung over the side above the water. He pointed excitedly at something in front of the fleet.

I stood up on wobbly legs and leaned over the side of the boat to look in that direction. I could feel Ivars' scrutinizing stare behind me as I investigated. Fuck him, I thought. I can do as I please. I followed Halfdan's invisible line and strained my eyes to see what he was pointing at.

"Land!" Bjorn shouted, dropping his oar and pushing his way to the front of the boat. "England!"

Today was the day; the day the great heathen army would march on King Aelle's army. The day the Sons of Ragnar would get their revenge. Ivar was sitting on the edge of the bed inside the tent we shared, strapping his leather armor around his legs. He tied the strings off tight before he turned and looked at me.

"My shirt, please." he spoke in a soft tone. I grabbed his tunic and walked towards him. His eyes slowly trailed up my body until his roaming eyes met mine. He gently took the shirt from my hands and then pointed to his leather vest. I grabbed the piece of armor and helped him pull it over his head and down his body. His hands worked on buckling the straps at his side while I laid out the piece of chain mail over his shoulder and fixed the collar of the garment so that it would protect his neck.

When he finished, his hands grabbed my hips and pulled me down so that I was straddling him. Ivar's hands moved over my own body armor I had on and chuckled softly. "I don't think you'll be needing this, hmm? You'll be safe here while I'm gone."