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"Brother, where are we going?" Alvina groaned, tired from their long walk into the forest.
Æthelred laughed at his sister's whining, only walking further. "You said you wanted to be stronger." He shrugged.
"You've taught me how to fight." She answered with furrowed brows. "But that was in the Villa."
"Fighting only gets you so far." He spoke again, turning to face her this time. "If you can't kill then you'll be killed."
Alvina's heart rate increased, her chest pounding with terror as her shallow breathing grew deep. She didn't care if it was an insect or a human, ending a life was something she could never do. Never. It just wasn't something she was capable of. Causing pain or death wasn't in her repertoire. All living things, no matter their size or their sins, were children of God. How could she kill one of God's creations, whether they loved God or not? Their faithfulness to the Lord mattered little to her. God still loved them and so did she. Killing would surely make her a sinner.
"Æthelred what are we doing?" She sniffled back stray tears that made him pause and turn to her. Upon seeing her, his features grew soft and he gently pulled her in for a hug.
"Alvina, you do not have to be a warrior. You don't have to prove yourself. But if you choose that path, you would have to kill." He tried to calm her.
Her lips trembled with small sobs as she pulled herself back together, trying to regain her composure. It was true that she wished not to kill, but did she really have a choice? These Heathens were coming, this army against God. They would slaughter her people! As a princess and a daughter of Aethelwulf, whom the world knew as a great warrior, it was her duty to stand and defend them. Whether she liked it or not, these heathens were her mortal enemies now, and she would always fight on the side of God.
"I'm ready." She nodded firmly as Aethelred handed her a bow.
****
After some hours, Alvina had killed more than once. The first time, she was inconsolable. She sobbed and sobbed until her arrow hit its next target. Then her pain began to dissipate. She instead felt pride for her shot. As the deaths increased, her remorse seemed to lessen. And her sorrow began to shift into a feeling that she wasn't used to. Was it anger? She wasn't sure, for she had never quite felt this way before. But, whatever it was, it was rather freeing.
She felt herself becoming a monster, and all in the hopes to defend her people. Was this how it felt to rule? Was this forever her burden now? Now that she had compromised herself and her morals, did she hold the strength she needed?
The truth was, she knew she didn't. She knew that nothing on heaven or earth could stop the wrath of the ragnarssons. They could not be defeated, and if she chose to fight against them then she knew she may very well die.
But was that not the highest honour? Would she not be a martyr in the eyes of the Lord? Would she not have died defending her people and her God? Perhaps she would. Or perhaps it was as she thought at the time, that Ragnar Lothbrok's death was the sin. And, without realizing it, these heathens were the ones doing God's work.
"Prince Æthelred, Princess Alvina!" A familiar voice called out, dragging the teens from their hunting. Both looked towards the man who they recognized as a loyal guard of their father's. For a moment, they shared a look of confusion before stepping closer towards the man as he slowed his snowy horse down to meet them.
"Why do you disturb us?" Æthelred questioned, as Alvina silently watched.
"I apologize, your grace, but your father has ordered you to return to the Villa. There is to be a battle against the heathens." The man answered.
At this, Alvina stepped in, her long locks swaying in the breeze as her pale features contorted into a look of utmost intrigue. "A battle?"
"Yes, my lady. Your father, Prince Aethelwulf, is leading an army to defend Wessex. Should he lose, you will be escorted to Kent in safety." He explained.
As much as the siblings wished to argue, they knew that it had already been decided. They would run from the heathens like cowards, and that was enough to enrage both of them. Still, they had no choice. Especially since Æthelred was in the line of succession. They could not risk both their lives. And so, they followed the guard back to the temporary safety of the villa.
Whatever happened next would determine the rest of their lives.
My teacher actually asked me to help teach our history class. I have literally become God. Fear me mortals. I have the power of Anglo-Saxons and Renaissance England on my side.
(is this how Ivar felt in 5b? Probably. Maybe I'll make a sacrifice of all my friends who said watching Vikings wouldn't help me pass history. Jokes on you fooooools)
