My eyes darted open, my breathing sharp. I looked around desperately. I was no longer outside but inside a warm and comfortable hut.
My hut.
I was home. I did it! I'd escaped. But how? Last I had remembered I was plummeting to my death. I tried to sit up, falling flat on my back at each attempt.
I could here the faint sounds of snores in the background as someone clearly slept awaiting my awakening.
"Aneira? You're awake!" Hilda cheered.
Suddenly the snoring shot and people jumped up. I turned my head to see Ubbe and Sigurd sat beside me.
"Are you alright?" Ubbe asked, concerned.
"I can't move." I sighed.
"You hit your back against a rock. The healer said you won't be able to walk for a few weeks but you should make a full recovery." Hilda told me.
I gulped, "I can't walk?"
"Only for a few weeks." Sigurd jumped in.
I didn't realise but a small tear ran down my battered face. The salty liquid stung as it seeped into the bloody cuts that ran along my face.
"It hurts." I whispered.
With that, Ubbe gave me a small hug, reassuring me that I was going to be okay.
"Where's Queen Aslaug? I'd like to talk to her." I croaked out.
Sigurd and Ubbe looked at eachother. I couldn't tell whether they were upset, angry or just didn't know what to tell me.
"Our mother is dead, Aneira." Sigurd said abruptly.
"H-How?" I croaked.
"Lagertha killed her to become queen." Ubbe seethed.
I looked at them both, my eyes filling with more tears. I couldn't contain my guilt as I heard those words. "I'm so sorry."
"Why would you be sorry? You didn't kill her. You weren't even here." Sigurd huffed.
I cleared my throat, "I'm sorry because I knew that Lagertha was going to attack. I didn't know she would kill your mother... But I knew what she planned to do."
Sigurd stepped over and sat beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, Aneira. We understand."
Ubbe stayed silent, avoiding eye contact with me. He didn't seem to share his brother's beliefs. I placed a hand on Sigurd's hand as a thanks.
"Ubbe?" I questioned. As much as I was grateful for Sigurd's reaction, I wasn't sure if I could handle losing Ubbe. Moreover, if Ubbe never forgave me, how would Ivar react? They were my closest friends.
"We always knew you were loyal to Lagertha. It's not a surprise. But you didn't kill our mother. You're not with her now." Ubbe spoke finally, breaking the silence that had seeped into the room.
I smiled, knowing it would take some time for things to go back to how they were but hopeful that they would.
"Get some rest. Ivar and our father will back soon." Ubbe announced.
I nodded, curling up under the sheets of my bed tiredly. It didn't take long for me drift off into a broken sleep.
Black ravens flew over York. They plucked at the bodies of the dead, their eyes glowing. I saw scars along the walls, wounds that would never heal. My heart raced as I ran through the streets. Memories began flooding back. Me and Anwyn playing in the streets.
That soon faded now all I saw was blood where those two girls once stood.
My dreams altered. I was right back to my youth, before I'd left England. My father had business in Wessex with King Ecbert, regarding the recent attacks from Vikings. I was five years old.
I stood in the corner of the room, not wishing to draw attention to myself. My eyes wandered around the room, taking in every single detail. I'd always been observant. I preferred watching and listening to talking.
"Who's this young lady?" A tall woman with dark brown hair asked. My huge blue eyes looked up at her. She had her hair intricately done up and wore rather expensive looking clothing.
"That is our daughter, Aneira." My mother smiled.
"How old are you, Aneira?" The woman asked.
I looked at her, unsure if I should speak or not. My parents both looked at me, urging me to speak. "I'm five." I answered finally. My once blonde, now caramel as it faded into brown, hair shook as I spoke with a large nod.
"I have two sons around your age. Would you like to meet them?" She smiled.
I gave another nod and beamed up at her.
"Princess Judith, are you sure? I was going to take her back with me." My mother fretted.
"Nonsense, Lady Alfa, we couldn't let you two just ride back to your home without the protection of your husband when these Heathens are ready to slaughter any Saxons in their path. Please, stay, you're all welcome here for as long as you wish." The King spoke up.
I remember spending days talking to the boys. Alfred and I had gotten on quite well, in fact. I had spoken to them both about my dreams of being a warrior on the battlefield. Aethelred had told me it wasn't possible. Just like my father had done. I thought Aethelred was nice, he just wasn't particularly open minded. Alfred, on the other hand, had informed me that he thought I'd be a good fighter. And so, our friendship began.
His mother, of course, approved. I wasn't like most Saxon women. My mother had sent people to educate me and to teach me to fight. She had always told me that a woman should be both cunning and fierce. She wanted me to have the life that she never got to live. This, Judith appreciated. She too was an educated woman, something very rare. I found that often when I would be brought to Wessex with my father, I would spend hours at a time listening to Judith as she taught me all of the things she'd learnt over the years. I was 13 when last I saw them. I knew that they could've got me out of my imprisonment, fought against the charges that were set upon me. They didn't. The only one who did that was Lagertha.
The rest of the night I had nightmares, nothing uncommon for me. Nightmares of how my father used to hit me and hurt my mother. Nightmares of being a slave. Nightmares of being chained up and paraded through the streets, everyone watching as a 'W' was burned into my back. People throwing stones at me as I was dragged back to my cell.
My eyes opened. Silence surrounded me, darkness had crept into Kattegat and no one could be seen. I held onto the wall, using all my strength to push myself up. My fingers dug into the cracks of the wooden walls, my knuckles went white as I pulled and pulled. Blood began to trickle down my hands and stained the walls. I kept trying. I refused to give up.
After what felt like hours, I'd managed to sit myself up. The pain it caused to sit up was almost unbearable but I knew that I had to force myself. I had to try.
I propped myself up against the wall, willing my body to work. This was a nightmare. I felt so... Weak.
I grabbed a hold of the table beside me, the muscles in my arm working as hard as they possibly could.
Here goes nothing.
I pulled myself up, using the table as support. The thought of standing once again was so appealing.
As soon as I stood to my feet, I fell to the floor. My body fell, basing against the hard wooden ground. A pain spread up my right hand side, an immeasurable pain. I lifted my shirt up, revealing a huge stitched up wound that spread down my torso. I'd broken the stitches.
In that moment, I knew that without help I was going to bleed out on the floor.
I also knew that no one was coming to help me.