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𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑅𝑇𝑌 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅 ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀɢɢᴇᴅ sʜᴏʀᴇs ᴏғ ᴘᴀʀɪs
𐂂
The dark waters tossed the boat back and forth, playing with the strong wind that whipped through the air. But the seafaring Vikings were too experienced to waver, their muscular bodies planted to the wooden floor like a tree with its roots. It was quiet, except the howl of the gale through the thick sail, beating the red material around the mast, and the sound of men's pants as the oars pushed against the current.
At the front of the very first boat, sat Ragnar, and in spite of the journey, he sat backwards, facing toward Floki, who stared back at him with equal strength. From beside Bjorn, Merida watched them carefully. There was nothing more temperamental than a grieving man, apart from perhaps the angry. But Ragnar had been stuck in his mournful state since Athelstan had been found murdered in his home, and Ragnar's grief was not shown as that of a normal man. He hid it well, with a piercing stare worthy of any intimidating leader and a shout as powerful as it could be.
It had never occurred to Merida that she should have been scared. Fear, after Athelstan's death, had not visited her. She was as much of a foreigner to the people of Kattegat as the English priest had been, no matter how much she often forgot the fact.
"Lord Ragnar."
As with the King, Merida's attention was pulled to the front of the boat, passed the prow, and to the great, tall city that lay close in the jagged horizon. It was here, as the towering walls drew closer, warning them away, that the bulk of the ships departed the fleet, angling their direction to the shallow shores where a camp would be made.
Ragnar stood at the prow, arm resting against the wooden serpent head, eyes cast upon the sight as if it was a toy. Rollo's ship came up beside him, skimming close to the wall. He too stood, glaring up upon the mottle tops, the squares of stone appearing to hide something. Metal heads emerged swiftly from behind, holding their bows sideways, moving to aim.
"Raise shields!"
Their strange, foreign bows were released, shooting forward with speed like lightning as if their arms were made of iron. The arrows disappeared into the choppy waves a metre out, and Merida realised that though their sidewards bows were forceful, they could not reach the distance that her own arrows could.
"Cover me," she said as she reached to pull the bow from where it was strapped to her back. Bjorn pulled her down by the shoulder before she could even make it above his shield.
"No. Get down," he said, pushing her head further toward the floor where she would be safer.
Merida placed her eye to the gap in the shield wall. "I can see their hearts from here. I could pierce three by the time we're turning."
