The day began like most others in this dull land. The cloudy grey skies beckoned Asta from her bed, wind rustling her bright blond locks as she made her way outside. As per everyday, duty called. And though she dreamt of new lands, of sailing the rolling ocean and fighting great battles, all that she could do for now was farm.
There was much to be done as harvest approached and Asta always found her body sore and aching after a long day's work. Her muscles cried for patience, for her to cease her activities, but she never could.
Nevertheless, Asta found time to sneak away from her activities; usually with Edmund. He was only two summers older than the Viking, and his parents had been the ones to take her in when no one else would. When they were little, he always took her places with him. He taught her their language, and continued the training that her parents had once given her. Now, she was an even greater warrior than even him. And Edmund could not help but feel love for the girl. But not sisterly love, as he knew he should have for a girl that he'd grown up with. Edmund wished to marry her.
Asta, of course, never felt the same. He was attractive, there was no doubt, and she cared for him deeply, but Asta had never been one to fall in love. She wanted adventure, battle, excitement; not to be a married woman tied to a man and his lands. That sounded utterly dreadful.
By now, it had been ten summers since the attack on the settlement. Asta had reached her fifteenth winter that year and she knew that she was ready to move on from this tedious place. She had hidden money, weapons, and planned her escape. And, though the prospect of leaving Edmund and his half sister Eadith was rather upsetting, Asta had no choice.
She was not made to be some Christian farmer. She was no Saxon. In her heart, she was a Viking. She would always be a Viking. And her heathen heart could never remain in this place for long. So, she knew that she must leave. The question was simply when.
"Asta!" Cenwulf's voice made her jolt, looking towards the man who had raised her. She could see the similarities between him and his son, and knew that before his grey hair and wrinkles, Cenwulf was also an attractive man. But he was not young anymore, and if her people ever came ashore here again, Asta knew that he could not defend his home. He was too old. "Get inside, now!"
His voice was urgent, and that only made a mischievous smirk dance across her features as she wondered what he was so afraid of. As she followed him inside, the young girl contemplated the possibilities. Either it was Ecbert's men again, or it was Northmen. And if it was the latter, she knew that Cenwulf's biggest fear was her leaving with them and returning to a life of piracy and immorality.
When she entered the homestead, Eadith couldn't help but roll her eyes and smile. Her mother, Mildred, sighed and threw an apron at the young Viking.
"You look like a Heathen, Asta." She chided, maneuvering the blonde into the kitchen. "If men enter and think you a heathen-" She paused, regaining herself.
Asta couldn't help but smile, grinning widely at the older woman. "I am a heathen, Mildred." She answered, tossing the apron to one side and walking back over to sit beside Edmund. He chuckled, throwing her an apple as she rested back in her chair, unbothered by any threat to her person. Certainly not bothered enough to get in the kitchen and prepare dinner for the menfolk. She'd rather muck out the stables than pander to any man.
A knock sounded at the door, jolting everyone in the room. Everyone except Asta, of course. She sat, unbothered by the intrusion, almost waiting for them to enter.
Many nights ago, she had dreamt of Kattegat. It had been so long since she'd seen it but she could see it so vividly. Odin came to her, two ravens overhead, and Asta could see a boy in the distance. A boy around her own age. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes like she had never before seen. And when she looked back towards Odin, he gave a small smile. That is when she awoke. From the moment that she saw it, Asta knew that it was a sign from Odin himself. He had truly come to her, had truly shown her a vision of the future, and she knew that her destiny lay in her home, her real home, Kattegat. Not here on this farm making peace.
Cenwulf was first to the door, opening it warily. Asta watched him, blue eyes glancing past him to see who was there. From the moment she saw them, she knew exactly who they were. They were not Saxons, like she had seen all her life for ten long years. They were like her. They were Viking.
"Sir, we are on our way back from a meeting with the King. We have no food left and nowhere to stay for the night, and wondered whether we might shelter with you and your kin." The man spoke, briefly glancing inside to meet Asta's intense stare. She did not look away, only narrowing his gaze at the man in suspicion as Cenwulf allowed them to enter the home.
"You are Danes?" Mildred shifted uncomfortably, Eadith quickly grabbing a pitcher of mead so that she could run in and serve the men. Edmund and Asta stayed seated, both of them gripping their weapons as the men neared. They were not quite ready to be hospitable to the guests, not trusting any envoy of Ecbert; especially not Viking envoys.
"We are." The second man spoke up. "I am Arne, and this is my brother Gorm. But you need not fear us, my lady. We are friends of the King, and are on our way home after a fruitful trading voyage."
Again, Asta narrowed her gaze, leaning forwards in her chair. The intensity of her gaze made even the two men squirm uncomfortably, both of them looking at the odd girl. Never had they seen a Saxon that resembled one of their own women so much. And she looked nothing like the rest of her family.
"And where is home?" She questioned calmly, urging them on with the information that they were feeding her. Another of her traits that Mildred had tried to knock out of her, she adored all kinds of knowledge. To the core, she was curious. As a girl, she often eavesdropped and people watched. And, whenever something had happened in the village, little Asta was always first to know. She couldn't help it. It was just her way. She loved to know things. After all, knowledge was power.
The men looked to eachother, Form taking a swig of mead before he answered. "We return to a place called Kattegat." He answered. "The home of King Ragnar Lothbrok."
As soon as the words left his lips, all eyes fell upon Asta. They all knew what was coming, they all knew that she'd been trying to find a way to Kattegat since the death of her parents. Though she cared for the Drakes, this as never been her home. She never belonged. Home was with her people, the ones that she'd been torn from at such a young age.
Gorm and Arne seemed to take notice of the change in atmosphere, both of them looking over at the young blonde. Asta sat back, clutching her own cup of mead as she contemplated this turn of events. Nights ago, she had been visited by Odin. Now these men were here? It was no coincidence. This was her destiny, of that she was certain.
"I am from Kattegat too." She spoke up, voice barely above a whisper but all in the room still heard.
"Asta!" Mildred scolded, rushing towards the girl as she prepared to usher her away from these men. But Cenwulf stood in front of her, preventing her from reaching the girl that they had both raised.
"You are like us?" Arne questioned in intrigue. They both knew that there was something about the girl, something unusual. "How did you end up here?"
At this, Asta's eyes grew cold. The memory of her past trauma made her blood boil with rage, a need for vengeance, and she could not help but spit at the question. "My family were farmers on the settlement that King Ecbert destroyed. I was the only survivor."
"Then I suppose," Gorm spoke up, placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder reassuringly, and moving away when she glared daggers into his soul. "You wish for revenge."
"Perhaps." Asta answered, still suspicious of the pair. If they were from Kattegat, surely they knew of the settlement. How could they befriend Ecbert with such knowledge? It was unthinkable. Utterly unthinkable. "But what can one girl do, hm?"
Arne smiled, shaking his head. "So, who were your parents?"
"My mother was the shieldmaiden Brenna, who fought with Lagertha in the shield wall and saved Queen Aslaug from Jarl Borg. My father was Thor Brynjarsson, who slew the great Calder of Rogaland in battle beside Ragnar and his brother Rollo." Asta declared proudly, chest puffed as she spoke of her parents and chin held high. How she ended here, her parents long gone and food for the worms, she did not know. The two were great, as great as Ragnar and Lagertha themselves. They deserved more. And so did she.
The two men froze, as though they had seen some ghost. Their faces were pale, and Asta swore that she saw hints of tears in Arne's eyes. "Thor and Brenna are dead?" He whispered, and she quickly realised the connotations of his words. These men had known her parents. She could do nothing but nod, taking another swig of her drink. Finally, he cleared his throat and looked back to her with a smile. "Your parents were great warriors, great people, and I am honoured to sit beside you, little one."
"Let us drink to Brenna and Thor." Gorm lifted his cup, placing an arm around the girl. She could sense Edmund grow hostile but she did not care. These men knew her parents. And for that alone, she decided to trust them. "May they live happily in Valhalla now, and watch over you in every battle to come."
"Skól!" The three cheered, only making Mildred shake her head in disgust. All these years, she had tried to raise a good Christian girl. But Asta was wild like a wolf. There was no taming her, no bringing her to civility. She would always be a heathen.
"So," She began finally, making Cenwulf look over with dread. He knew what was coming before she even spoke. It was the moment that he'd feared since she first became a woman. Because, no matter who or what she was, to him she was a daughter. "When do you sail home?"
That was the day that everything changed for Asta, the day that she finally found her way out of England. She was not overly fond of Gorm or Arne but they were good enough. Good enough to get her to Kattegat.
She wasn't sure what she planned to do in Kattegat. She had no family, no money, no land, and nobody knew her now. But she had to go. She had to.
For some reason, which she could not fathom, Edmund had snuck away from his home too. He carried Cenwulf's sword and enough provisions for the two of them. Asta had tried telling him to go home, to return to his family. She did not wish to tear them apart, to cause more upset than she had to. But Edmund had decided that he could not leave her, and Cenwulf had agreed. He would protect her, no matter what.
And so they left.
For Kattegat.