Killing Me Softly

Killing Me Softly

trigger warning for mentions of rape

Someone Must get Hurt and it Won’t Be Me

Aethelswith

The smell of burning wood and bodies filled the air and sneaked through the cracks in their hiding place. All the screams still rang in her ears even though it had died down hours ago. Had it been hours? Minutes? Seconds? In the end, Aethelswith didn’t know who was alive, dead, taken, or tortured. Sooner or later, the Heathens would find her and the children who hid in the bell tower cupboard.

Aethelswith gathered the courage to speak putting on the facade of bravery to calm the children hiding with her.

“Bridget, Avery, Lorna, I need you to stay here. You must promise me not to leave until the Heathens are gone” she whispered to the frightened children.

“You're not going leave us right princess?” poor blind Beth pleaded. Visibly shaking with fear.

“ I have to go, they are looking for me and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’ll have to look after one another. Will you promise me that? “ Aethelswith asked.

“Of course princess, if any of those Heathens come near us I’ll protect Leorna and Beth” Peter replied cheerfully masking his own fear.

“More like I’ll be protecting you.” Leorna quipped back despite knowing her lame leg prevented her from running like the other children. Aethelswith knew that if the Heathens found these children they would waste no time in killing them. Twisting the ring off her ring she gave it to Peter.

“ After the Heathens leave you will need to head to York. Show this ring to Lord Benton and tell him what happened here. He will take care of you.” She told them trying to maintain a facade of strength.  She began moving out of the tight cupboard space knowing she had to seek out the men that had ruin this safe haven: The Sons of Ragnar.

The stone corridors were eerily quiet as she snuck through the halls. It was as if she was entering a strange kind of purgatory as she descended through one of the stairwells. The silence wasn’t one of quiet reflection or prayer, it was the silence of death.  The only thing she could hear was her own rapid heartbeat and the slow breathes she was taking in order to calm herself down. Maybe they already left… they took what they wanted and left. She told herself, naively trying to convince herself of the better outcome. Motionless she took a look out one of the narrow windows in the stairway. What she saw was out her nightmares.

Limp dead bodies cover the grounds as Heathens took no notice of them as if they were just dirt under their shoes. The remains of burning buildings lay in ruins while men took pleasure in the women they took alive. They looked as if it was just another grand day for them as if they didn’t take the lives of innocents. A voice spoke to in her head ‘This is your fault. If you weren’t here this wouldn’t have happened. You're the reason they’re dead’. She slowly sank from the window trying to swallow back the tears and the guilt. It was the time to hate, to have no mercy for any enemy, mourning would be for later, anger and revenge would fill her heart now.

Finally, Aethelswith strode softly through corridor trying to make it without being spotted. She could hear two voices coming closer. It was now or never. It would be better to surprise them than or for them to surprise her. Making a swift movement out of the dark she made her way towards the men, increasing the sounds of her steps. ‘Only a few feet from them now’ She thought as they suddenly became aware of her presence.  A rough, calloused hand went grabbed her neck nearly crushing her neck.

“Er den lille sauen tapt?” the mocking voice crooned. He had unforgiving black eyes, queer tattoos covering his face, and her opinion, the most ridiculous haircut she has ever seen. Another hand started caressing her face with an almost tender touch but spoke with an equally dark voice.

“Nå bror, jeg vil ikke at du skal skade den vakre jenta for mye. Afterall, er hun ikke modig for å komme ut med å leke med oss?”. The one who spoke had cold ice blue eyes, similar facial tattoos, an attractive face, and a stupidly long brunette braid. She wasn’t going to even bother to translate what they had said to her. It was no doubt something derogatory that didn’t warrant a response. She straightened her back and spoke with all the confidence of a queen in their language.

“Jeg er prinsesse Aethelswith, og du vil bringe meg til å se ragnars sønner”. A rather surprised look came over the men as the hand slightly loosened around her neck. She continued speaking in their language.

“I am sure that the sons of Ragnar would like to see me unharmed and taken alive. As the granddaughter of King Ecbert, they would like me as a hostage.” slowly moving she carefully removed her earrings. They were gold with little blood red jewels in the center. It one of the few jewelry pieces she had taken with her, and now they were even more necessary to bargain for her safety.

“As payment you may have these.” putting out her hands with the earings, seeing if it would be enough to persuade them. The blonde eagerly took them, as the brunette began to speak again.  Quickly, she began translating what he was saying, silently thanking God for the lessons in the heathens language that she had been taught growing up.

“Why would you come out now little Princess? Were getting tired hearing your Christians dying? Hmm? Surely, you know what the sons of Ragnar will do to you.”   He questioned, almost, she thought, with some pity in his dark voice. “You should have stayed hidden,” he whispered as he took her arm not ungently but with urgency to take her away.  

“If I am to die on this day, then I would like to it to be over with. I believe you call it fate…” She took a pause, speaking more to herself than to them. “ Perhaps it’s my fate to die today after all the suffering I caused. Perhaps God wants me with him Heaven.” she mused to herself ignoring the snort by the blonde man. Thinking back on how this happened. thinking why had God forsaken his people in their time of need. Thinking about how this might have been her fault in some way.

.

The paper faded in and out view before her. It was of no use concentrating on minuscule details of the report on the springtime plow in Streoneshalh.  Aethelswith’s fingers gently tapped against the writing desk in the room she had been given at Streoneshalh. It had been about a year since Ragnar had died at the hands of King Aelle. Now, King Aelle’s limp body was lying in the forest where he had put Ragnar to death. It was only a matter of time before they came for Wessex despite the blind belief of her grandfather that the Sons of Ragnar wouldn’t attack.

Staring out the window, her blue eyes surveyed the peaceful happenings below. The everyday tasks went unencumbered in the courtyard. Townspeople and farmers went about their business in blissful ignorance. She briefly saw Joan and Sarah heading towards the barn. Joan easily recognizable with her bright red hair escaping through her veil while Sarah blonde braids wrapped around her head under her headscarf. Please God, do not let them come here, Aethelswith thought. After the kindness some of her family had shown Ivar, would he still want of all them dead? One side thought “Yes, of course. We sent his father to his death.  They’re Vikings all they know how to do is rape, plunder, steal, and murder.  Naively she believed he would come through. No, he made me a promise… doesn’t that count for something? she thought while tracing her lips.

It was one of the worst places to be on the defensive with a thick fog covering the area. Against the East Cliff, facing the North Sea, on the river Esk, and a two days ride York,  an attack by the Heathens would be an easy win. Surely, it would be safe enough to protect her and the people living here, right?  Why would her grandfather send her back here if it wasn’t safe?  Surely, the Heathens would not know of or search for her. Unless King Aelle had told them before his death about sending his daughter Heluna there. Surely, the man wouldn’t have been such a coward as to bargain his own daughter away in exchange for his own life? Aethelswith knew he didn’t like her mother’ s affair with the priest Athelstan, or fraternizing with King Ecbert, or painting of the Holy Scriptures but surely he still loved his children. The brief interactions with King Aelle left her with mixed feelings for him despite being her grandfather. He held ridiculous notions towards female intelligence and their place in the world. As for Heluna, she had few interactions with her to form a definite opinion but seemed like the perfect Christian princess.

As if her worst fears were realized, the eery ringing of the church bells began to ring, but not for mass or to signal the hours. A cold sweat broke out among her skin as she dared to look back out the window. Black smokes mixed with the heavy fog, while the people scrambled to get away from the oncoming slaughter. The blaring sounds of foreign horns signaled the cold call of death.  

No! No! Anyone but them. Anywhere but here! Please, God, do not abandon us!

A sickening feeling played within her mind. They were here for her or, at the very, least the demons would find her. Rooted to the ground she forced herself in a blind flurry out of her room. The corridors teemed with a flurry of rushing nuns and women running to escape the inevitable. Trying to move through panic to get somewhere, anywhere but here. Making her down the stairs through the suffocating amount of people an arm pulled through the crowd with a surprising amount of strength.

“ Aethelswith, come with me” an elderly voice called. It was Sister Edith, her confessor. She was one to the oldest member of the convent and it showed with a heavily wrinkled face and slightly bent back. She led Aethelswith away from the crowd with surprising speed and towards the ringing bell tower.

“Sister, we have to leave this place. It isn’t safe anymore!” Aethelswith stated. Wondering if the old lady had gone senile.

“ Oh, I  know that, but you won’t be any safer out there. Out there you’ll be easy prey for those animals” she responded. As if it was the most natural conclusion. “Besides” she continued, “ I’ve been here for twenty-five years. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

“ But, they’ll kill you” Aethelswith whispered, not understanding why Sister Edith wouldn’t save herself.

“Well, I think I’m ready to join God in his kingdom. I’m too old to escape now.” Sister Edith chuckled. “Now, go and hide and wait for them to leave. I have to go find Princess Heluna”.  With a kiss on the cheek and a firm hug, Sister Edith shooed away to a safer place knowing that this would be their last goodbye alive.

Her heartbeat continued to hammer against her chest as she looked for a place to hide. How long would it take them to get there? 10 minutes? 5 minutes? 45 seconds? She was working with borrowed time and she knew it. Trying to reach higher ground, she ran through the various halls and staircases. She heard suddenly the quiet singing of a child with her hand tracing the wall. It was a sweet voice that belonged to a small girl, that could be no more than nine or ten.

“All glory, laud, and honour  To Thee, Redeemer, King! To Whom the lips of children  Made sweet Hosannas ring,”

Aethelswith quickly grabbed hold of the girl only to see that the girl was blind with a cloudy unnatural look.  Was she left behind? Could she not keep up with the others? Why didn’t anyone help her?

“Hello. Who are you? My name is Bridget...  Did Sister Mildred send you? “ She spoke without a worry in a dreamlike state. Her hands started feeling the clothing to see what she was wearing, trying to tell if she was friend or foe.

“ My name is Aethelswith, and we must hide quickly. The--” Aethelswith whispered quickly pulling her towards the belltower but she cut off by the girl.

“ Princess Aethelswith!” Bridget paused trying to make what Aethelswith suspected was an attempt at a curtsey. Bridget continued in an excited voice “ It is so wonderful to meet … I remember when you came by Tamworth in Merica… before the plague came and-” she was about to continue when a crash came from outside the building. She quickly ran to one of the windows to the sight of Hell. The heathens had crashed through the gate like wolves descending on a wounded deer. They were cutting down various townspeople that had tried to take refuge from the slaughter in town. More men took the nuns that had not managed to escape, defiling their holy virtue. She could picture it in her mind, the men burning the holy church, the rape of the holy women, them dragging her beaten body to the one who had promised her that no harm would come to her. He would mock her with his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes and taunt her naivety that she had entrusted him with such a promise.

She swiftly she turned from the horror before her and grabbed the hand of Bridget. Running as fast as she had ever done in entire life, all but dragging the girl to keep up with her. They needed to find somewhere to hide and fast. Before the heathens had made it to the upper levels.  Begging God she silently prayed give us shelter, give us mercy, protect us, please merciful Lord.

“They’re here, aren’t they? The Heathens. I can’t hear the bells ringing anymore.” Bridget whimpered. Her face was contorted with fear, knowing that the heathens had invaded their home.

“Yes, they are here Bridget-” Aethelswith paused, the bells, the belltower… “ I know we can hide Bridget.” Running with renewed effort, they went through the small door that led to the belltower. Gripping each other hands they climbed the stairwell together. Spotting the small cupboard opening only to find two other faces peering back at her. Ignoring them she pushed Bridget in the cramped space and wiggled herself in as well.

It was dark in the cramped cupboard space but she could barely make out the other little faces with her. One that she recognized was the face of a reedy pox-marked, flaxen-haired boy. His name was Avery, an orphan from a village about 20 miles north of Streonshalh and usually worked in the barn. The pox had nearly wiped out the village a 5 years ago, but he had survived by the grace of God. The other face was of a pretty girl with a mop of brown curls. She had a crutch by her right leg. Aethelswith remembered a letter that she had been sent on the status orphanage she was the patronage of at Streonshalh. Lorna, age eleven, beamed crushed her leg in a house fire. They were able to save the girl but not her father.

They were looking at her for what to do, for her to step up a show no fear, but instead, she was saving herself and hiding. Inside she felt like a coward, but another side of her thought was it truly wrong to try to save herself?

“Now children, we will have to be very quiet and we might have to stay here for a long time. Do you think you can do that for me?” Aethelswith whispered, and was met several nodding heads. Trying to comfort the children around her, she wondered how long it be until the Heathens would stop destroying the sanctuary around her and figure out that Princess Heluna and her were here under their noses. Surely, it wouldn’t take Ivar long to figure out that the best to cripple and taunt her father was to use her. The comforting knowledge that her father loved her now made her sick. What type of sick torture would they use on her to get back at him? For the first time in her life, she feared Ivar the Boneless.

The tightening around her arm intensified as the tow Heathen lead her to their destination. The sounds of laughter and the smells of food and alcohol were becoming more apparent as they closed, but it couldn’t stop the sickeningly sweet smell of death from sneaking into her nostrils. Then, she saw it, the bodies of the dead piled outside the church’s main door. They were heaped like discarded garbage instead of human beings.

A black feeling crept up inside, she dug her fingernails into her skin. They aren’t human, these heathens, they are the vilest creatures of this Earth. These good Christian people had never done anything to warrant this defilement. This is my fault, she thought to herself

Staring at the bodies, she started searching for anyone she knew, praying that she didn’t know any of them. But then she saw Sister Edith. It was almost like she was sleeping, but the blood stains coming from her chest betrayed that thought. It can’t be her, she didn’t deserve this.  Sharp breaths were coming in and out of her chest willing herself not to cry.

“What is the little christian going to cry” the blonde mocked cruelly. Black thoughts clouded her mind as she gave him a look that would scare the vilest demons in Hell

“ I promise you, you’ll never see me cry, not in your wildest dreams. If someone must get hurt it won’t be me.” she hissed.

“You sure about that,” he sang back, but before the blonde could do any more the brunette interceded,

“That’s enough brother. We made a promise. I intend to keep it.” He almost commanded as he looked back at her with what she thought might be the smallest bit of empathy.  He opened the church doors to an array of tall brutes of heathen men some with her Sisters of Christ.

She straighten her posture to that of queen, fully intending to show no mercy, give no quarter, and make them pay. Her thoughts as she entered the place that used to be for God were now a place for vengeance. You’ll wish you never met me, never betrayed me, and never set a foot in this country. For what you did to these people, you’ll regret ever crossing me.

Yes! We need more shirtless Franzen!

Peter Franzén Vol.2 (Ashes In The Snow)

For everybody who thinks two picture collages were not enough, here’s some fresh supply: 😊

(The original film material is not mine. Credit to the owners.)

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King Harald (Vikings) - SFW Alphabet Headcanons

A/N: This is my first time writing for Harald, so I hope it doesn’t feel too OOC. A few mentions of smut under the cut, but nothing too dirty. Mostly just the soft, sweet stuff. (GIF not mine  — found on Google.)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Harald is an incredibly affectionate, romantic man. He’s driven by his passion and his heart, and he has always longed for true love. He lavishes you with affection, and he wants to take care of his woman. If the gods were kind enough to bring the two of you together, he feels like it’s his duty to honor that by showing his devotion in any way possible. He is the king, and he expects his queen to be treated as such.

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The Best Birthday Present (1/3)

Aethelswith hummed Fred Astaire’s song “Cheek to Cheek”, as she played through the events that passed two days ago at her 18th birthday party. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way they danced together like they were the only two people in the world. The way his blue eyes bore into hers with such bliss. His soft lips that swallowed her’s in a sweet embrace. Thinking back to where his sweet mouth would touch other places that night. She hoped that he would send her a letter or secretly send her a telegram, or perhaps he would be bold and call her.

At this point, her family was a little worried as they sat around the breakfast table. Judith was especially worried for her. Aethelswith was always so sensible. Didn’t she know that falling in loved almost always ended poorly for their family? Judith’s eyes flitted to the door in a panic. Where was her so-called husband?

“Aethelswith, honey, will you past the jam?” Judith asked her daughter prying Aethelswith from her absent-mindedness.

“ Oh yes, mother,” She replied half paying attention as she passed the jar.

“Aethelswith, honey, this is the maple syrup,”  Judith said as Alfred and Aethelred snickered. A blush covered Aethelswith face as she came up with an excuse,

“Sorry, mother. I just have a lot on my mind lately. You know, with the new polio wing in the children’s Hospital I opened in London. I’ve just been thinking about it lately.” she explained quickly, but Aethelred snigger cut in and he began teasing her.

“Is that really was on your mind? You sure it’s not that man I saw you with. What was his name again? H-” but Aethelred was cut off with Aethelswith sharp heel stabbing into her brother’s foot. A pained look came across his face as he resigned himself back to his breakfast.

As soon she had conquered one foe, her father Crowned Prince Aethelwulf smashed his way through the dining room’s doors finally causing her grandfather Ecbert to pay attention to the conversation. Her father’s face was beet red, and the whole family could tell he was in one of his tempers. He waved her the staff to leave and slammed the doors behind them. In hard thwack, the morning newspaper landed on the dining room table.

“Aethelswith, Tell me what. is. this?!” he fumed.  Not thinking beforehand or taking a look at the headline, she answered in a distinct matter of fact voice

“ A newspaper, father,” she replied. Her father's face was nearly two shades redder than it usually was, but she knew her father would never lash out on his children.

“Yes, I can see that. Can you read the headline aloud for us?” he hissed. Now it was Aethelswith turn to blush several shades of red.

Crown Princess Aethelswith of England in Illictous Affair with King Harald of Norway???

Forbidden Romance For England’s Perfect Princess

July 14, 1939

A reliable source, called Mr. Black, reported to the Winchester Times that during Princess Aethelswith 18th birthday celebration, with nearly 500 guests, she and King Harald of Norway snuck away for an Illictous rendez-vous just before the fireworks went off at midnight. Full Story A5.

“Father, I can explain it is nothing like this newspaper says” Aethelswith convincing replied knowing full well that this newspaper might know more than she would like.