A Slaves Freedom

Home?

Fire blazed around her as the screams of people she once knew erupted in the distance. Vikings and soldiers emersed in battle. She ran past it all, looking for something...what was she looking for? She felt drawn to the blacksmiths shop where a man sat with his back to her. "Who are you?" she asked as she forgot the battle raging outside. The man stood....

The ground shook awakening Astrid from her nightmares. She tried to stand as she remembered where she was. The ships had come to land once more, men were exiting the ship as others came to claim their new slaves. Sigurd pulled Astrid to her feet with exitement "We're home!" he exclaimed then added "don't run. You still belong to me." However the weeks of sitting kept her from thinking of such acts, she could barely stand as it was. Noticing this Sigurd pulled her up into his arms without warning and began to make his way onto land. "Come, I'm sure you're as tired as I am. I shall show you to my home where you may rest before the feast." he said still carrying her. "What feast!?" she asked. She was worried but the mention of food had her stomach growling. "The feast for our return of course!"

It seemed forever before they reached Sigurds home yet once they got there she could think of nothing but her own. Just like her he lived away from the "village" and seemed to keep to himself. "Here we are." he said yet he still had not put Astrid back on the ground. Instead he walked to the door and with the arm beneath her legs, opened it revealing a small but warm looking cabin. Finally setting her down by the hearth he began to light a fire to lighten the house. As the fire grew more of the house was revealed to her. She took in the small table with two chairs, the bath in the corner, and the door at the back which she assumed led to his bedroom. It was more than welcoming compared to the ship she had spent so long on. Sigurd stood as he said " I'm going to get water for the bath. Stay here." He then left her alone, yet no thoughts of escape entered her mind. Exhaustion hung heavy on her shoulders and began to weigh on her eyes.

Sigurd came back with two pails of water which he hung above the fire to warm. He turned to see the sleeping form of Astrid in the chair where he left her, still wearing the cloths from the day he had taken her, but there was something he hadn't noticed before. Around her neck hung a pendant in the shape of a tree, behind it was some sort of stone that shimmered in the firelight. His curiosity grew but he didn't dare get closer in fear of waking her. Instead he returned to his pails waiting for the water to be heated. Once he had filled the tub a thought came to him. Should he wake her and bathe her first or let her sleep? Deciding to wake her he moved closer and knelt before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. At first she didn't wake but with a gentle shake she nearly jumped from the chair. Sigurd giggled as she settled back into her spot looking as if she were ready to kill him. "The bath is ready, care to join me?" he asked. Her shocked expression was her only response. "I thought you might enjoy a warm bath after so long in those filthy clothes." he said. "Well yes, but I...I just..." " You have nothing to hide from me. Come." he said as he pulled her to her feet.  She hesitated as she stood before the warm tub. "If you won't, I will, but as my slave you will bathe me." he said causing her cheeks to burn. Before she could respond he had already begun to undress and step into the tub. "There's a cloth over on the table." he pointed. She grabbed it and walked back towards him. Kneeling next to the tub she didn't know what to do or how to start. Sigurd knew this and found it rather entertaining as he suggested she start with his shoulders. "They're quite sore" he stated. She tentatively set her hands to work. As she scrubbed she notice he had a fair amount of muscle for being so thin. Sigurd noticed her slowed motions and turned to her, an idea forming. He slid his hand over her slim wrist "You really should bathe before the water cools". Before she could pull her arm from his grasp he pulled her into the warm water. "What are you doing!?" she yelled. "It seemed like you were having trouble washing my chest from back there." he giggled. "Besides I did say you needed to bathe aswell." Instead of fighting she stared at his chest and resumed washing, trying desperately to ignore that she now sat in his lap. Soon enough he began to play with the ties that held her shirt closed. That was it. "I don't want to do this anymore. Can't you bathe yourself?" she asked. "Of course, but I'm not going to bathe myself I'm going to bathe you." he said as if it were obvious. "No!" she could feel her cheeks heating up. "Slaves cannot be shy. I will see you sooner or later Astrid." All the while he continued to play with her shirt. "Please" she begged, but she knew what the answer would be. "You must trust me. You need to bathe and I havn't checked your arm in awhile. It should be cleaned again. You can turn around if you're shy." Hesitantly she did as she was told. With her back to him she began to remove her shirt and what he saw underneath shocked him in a way he didn't expect. Her back alone held more scars than some of the strongest fighters he knew. He reached up and slowly traced three faint lines that started at her left shoulder and ended just above her right hip. Feeling this she flinched away from his touch and turned so that he could see neither her scars or her face. She refused to look at him as his stare lingered. He was the first to speak as he spoke the thoughts circling his mind like vultures. "I knew there was something different about you. What happened?" he asked only to be met with her angered response. "Why would you care where these came from!?" "I'm curious. I've never seen scars like those before." he said. "And you'll never see them again!" she yelled. With that she stood, no longer caring what he saw and stepped out of the tub leaving a stunned Sigurd behind. She had seen something in his eyes but she didn't know what. Her past was seeping back into every mark and she became blinded by fear and anger. One silent tear slid from her eye. Just another scar hidden behind the rest.