Thought I would do something a little different and make the reader character someone in particular. Hope you enjoy.
Heahmund looked up, as he heard a noise come from inside the locked room, within which he had been chained. He had been knelt in prayer until this moment; the bishop unaware of the pagans plans for him. Unaware of why Ivar the Boneless, had done what he had done; why he had not killed him. But instead of seeing a tiny mouse, or well-fed rat, scurrying across the floor, there stood a woman. A woman taller than anyone that the bishop had laid eyes on before. Her form covered by a long, dark gown, surrounded by an ethereal mist. Her face........perfect. It appearing as though her features had been cut from the finest of marble, or the purest ice. He couldn't help but stare; he was sure that she must be an angel, sent by God to rescue him from his current predicament. Or perhaps she had been sent to take him to heaven; to free him from his earthly bonds. Proof that the Lord had forgiven him for his sins, for his indiscretions. But there was something that told him that this was not the case. That she was so much more.
"What.........what are you............?" The bishop finally managed to enquire, as the woman made her way over to him. Her eerily pale eyes, looking deep into his dark orbs.
"I am Norn. My name...... Urðr. In your tongue.........I am Fate............." She replied. Her voice soft, gentle; her words caressing his ears like a lover's lips. The breath catching in the bishop's chest, as she circled him.
"I..............I do not believe in fate.......I believe in free will......" The warrior replied. Sure, that his heart was about to burst, as she stopped in front of him and took his chin in the palm of her hand; raising his head so that she could take in his features, in what little light there was in the room.
"You may tell yourself anything you wish, Saxon. You may tell yourself, tell others, that you do what you do for your God, because you choose to do it, not because your God wills it so. Yet I am still here. Come from Urðarbrunnr, beneath Yggdrasil to make sure that you fulfil the fate that has been set aside for you. A fate that must now coincide with the youngest son of Ragnar. That joins that of Lagertha, and so many others that you have fought against. A fate that will end as you always thought it would; but it will not be here. Not in this cell, with you chained like some common criminal, but on a battlefield. Your body pierced as that of your Saint Sebastian. A gentle hand sending you to your final rest........" Urðr explained, as she knelt down with the bishop. The exquisite female still having to look down at him. Heahmund, despite himself, despite still wanting to insist that unlike the pagans, he did not believe in fate; that he did not believe in her. That whatever he did, was for the glory of his God, he was finding himself lost; lost in her beautiful, icy eyes. Lost in her voice and the feel of her skin against his flesh. It was true that he had known many women; had bedded more than his share, and hoped there would be more, before he met his end. Yet not one of them had made him feel as she was making him feel, with just this simple touch.
"What is it you wish of me...............?" The Bishop of Sherborne enquired, as Fate let her fingers make their way into his hair. Heahmund closing his eyes, as she moved her face closer to his; her lips ghosting across his ear.
"The dark son of Ragnar will come to speak to you soon. He will tell you that there is to be a war; a war that will make him the king of his father's kingdom. A war against a usurper; against the woman that killed his mother, to be queen. A war between brothers. He will give you a choice; this choice, these meetings on and off the battlefield, are why you are still alive. It will sound strange to you; you will find it unreal. It will be an offer that you would never believe that a Viking would make. But make it, he will. A chance to kill heathens, without having to surrender your faith. And in the end, you will agree; for it is your fate to do so. To play a part, even greater than the one that had already been given you. And though you will deny that; though you will refute my sisters and I, deep down, you will know. You will remember the name, Urðr; you will recall my face. You will see me in the darkest hours of the night; for nothing, and no one can escape their fate..............." The Norn explained. Her words seeping into his mind. His eyes flying open as he felt her lips on his; the bishop unable to stop himself from letting out a needy moan, as he kissed her back. The kiss growing deeper, more passionate, until she moved away. Heahmund wanting to tell her to stay, to speak to him more; yet he knew that she had to leave.
"May I ask Fate one question before she goes.............?" The warrior asked, as the beauteous Norn turned to look at him.
"At my death, will my soul go to heaven, or hell............?" He continued, as she nodded. A small smile coming to her lips, at his question.
"Heaven? Hell? Who said that you are fated to see either of those places? Perhaps it has already been decided that you will go somewhere else, once you have passed beyond this mortal veil. But whatever the case, I assure you that you and I will meet again, Bishop Heahmund. It is, after all, fate............" She told him. The warrior staring, wide eyed, as the vision before him, disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. The door to his cell suddenly being opened, before the dark son of Ragnar made his way inside, with fate close behind.