— 1. Lindisfarne

At the Lindisfarne Monastery in the Kingdom of Northumbria, a young girl stood at the window in her room. It was a small room and it had no furniture. All there was inside the small closet of a room was a small bed of furs on the floor and a lit candle for her to see.

She stood at the window, looking out at the storm plaguing the land. She found herself smiling at the sounds of thunder crackling and the sight of lightning illuminating the night sky.

Usually, the monks at the Monastary were afraid of storms, but she never was. She loved them more than anything. They felt familiar to her. She felt at home, which was something she rarely felt. She was a girl living at a monastery with all men. Of course she didn't feel at home. She couldn't even remember ever meeting another child or even a woman before.

Just then, she stopped, frowning at the sight of a boat sailing toward the shores. Who could it be?

"Girl," A voice suddenly spoke up, causing her to turn to see Father Cuthbert standing before her. Everyone at the monastery called her 'girl'. After all, she didn't have a name. No one ever bothered to give her one, either.

"You seem to be the only one in this monastery who isn't running around like a chicken with its head cut off. The Monks claim that Judgement Day is here. Are you not afraid?" He asked her curiously as they began to walk down the hallway together.

"For what reason should I be afraid, Father?" She asked, frowning as she stared up at the man.

"They say Pagans have sailed onto our shores," He informed her and the girl smiled at the thought.

"I heard it said by a man here that we were pagans once," She replied, letting out a small chuckle, "He said that our old god Woden is actually Odin."

"Well, girl, we saw the errors of our ways and looked to Rome," He reminded her, but by the look on her face, the girl standing before him wasn't taking any of it seriously.

"And where has that gotten us? Now, we are plagued by these Northmen," She pointed out as she smiled in admiration, "I heard the men say these pagans have gods for everything, even war and love. Why is it we have only one god?"

"Because our God is the one true God and the others are just masks for the devil," He snapped at her coldly, beginning to look offended.

"Perhaps our God is wrong and theirs are right," She continued to taunt him on purpose, knowing how upset he got whenever she defended matters that were supposed to be considered sinful in the eyes of fellow Christians. Father Cuthbert had baptized her three times during her life, hoping it would cleanse her and invite God back into her life, but it never seemed to work, "Ever think of that, Father?"

"You are dancing closely to heresy, child," He told her in a low tone as he glared down at her.

"Perhaps I shall get some musicians in here," She smiled as she mockingly glanced around, "Oh, that's right. Fun things like music aren't allowed around here."

"We do God's work around here. There is no time for fun," He argued back in a cold tone as he roughly grabbed her by the ear, causing her to yelp in pain, "Now, go find something to do. You are not here to just fool around and play stupid games. You are a servant, nothing more. Or must I whip you again to remind you of that?"

"No need," She replied and as he let go of her ear, she ran her fingers over the scars on her lower back made by the man standing in front of her, "I know who I am. I do not need a reminder. I shall go clean the floors in the upstairs library."

"Good. Now, run along," He insisted and the girl smiled, mocking bowing to him before walking away.

___

The following day, she was making her way through the town. She found herself sneaking past a man, stealing the flask of wine hanging from his belt without him noticing.

With that, she continued to walk with a smile on her face. She stopped when she heard the warning bells, causing her to frown in confusion.

She looked around, watching as numerous monks began to run for the chapel. Father Cuthbert stood in place nearby, not having the slightest clue about what was going on.

"What is it?" He asked in an annoyed tone, causing Athelstan to stop where he was, "Why was the warning bells rung?"

"They've come. They are here," Athelstan informed Father Cuthbert in an alarmed tone.

"Who is here?" Father Cuthbert questioned, a puzzled look on his face.

"Hell—And all its devils!" Cenwulf exclaimed dramatically.

"Lock the doors and stay inside, all of you! Hurry," Father Cuthbert demanded and with that, the girl followed in the direction that Athelstan had gone in.

_____

Not too long after, in the chapel, she was kneeling alongside some Monks, the sounds of metal clinking outside being the only sound heard in the room. "Don't be afraid," Father Cuthbert told the group in a calm tone, but it was obvious that he was just as afraid, "Trust in God, and let us pray."

As they closed their eyes and began to pray, the girl kept her eyes open as she awkwardly made the sign of the cross with her hands.

The men continued to pray and she rolled her eyes, standing up before she made her way to another room.

As she made her way down the hallway, she suddenly heard the door to the monastery bust open as the monks began to shout in fear.

She sighed in defeat and glanced around, searching for a place to hide. Finding a table, she quickly crawled underneath it.

She remained silent with a hand placed over her mouth, listening to the screams of the monks all around the monastery as they were killed.

Just then, the door to the room creaked open, causing her eyes to widen in alarm.

"I don't understand," One of the men spoke up and she frowned, realizing she could understand him, despite it not being old Saxon that they were speaking, "Why would they leave such treasure unprotected? Is there some spell, some magic which protects them?"

"It appears not," Another replied, causing what sounded like three men to laugh.

"Perhaps they think their god protects them," The third man replied in a calm tone.

"If this is their god, then he's dead. He is nailed to a cross."

"He cannot protect anyone. He is not alive, like Odin, Thor, or Frey."

"What use is he, then?"

The three men began to laugh, only to become silent when they heard a creak. The girl silently cursed to herself, knowing it had been her to make the noise when she adjusted her foot. She always had been known for being unable to sit still.

Just then, one of the men reached from underneath the table and grabbed ahold of her, causing her to gasp in fright.

He grabbed her by the shoulder before shoving her on the ground in front of him.

"What do we have here?" The man who had grabbed her, whose name happened to be Erik, commented.

She quickly pushed herself off the ground and was on the verge of trying to run away when the man who looked to be the leader of the ground, grabbed her by the arm before she could do so.

"Let me go, you insolent bastard!" She shouted in the man's native tongue, causing the three men to immediately freeze in place.

They froze in place and exchanged a look with each other. "Who are you?" The third man standing there asked her in confusion, "How do you know our language?"

"Rot in hell. I'm not telling you anything!" She snapped at them coldly and the leader of the group grabbed her by the arm once more.

Unable to help herself, she spat in his face. He scoffed and stepped back to wipe his face.

As he did so, she turned, on the verge of running when the man from before hit her in the face with the butt off his ax.

She grunted in pain as she fell to the floor. She wiped her forehead to find that she was bleeding but despite that, she stared up at the men, showing no fear. "Go ahead. Kill me, you Pagan scum," She snapped at the three men in their native tongue, "You'll still be you and I shall haunt you in your dreams."

The leader of the group began to walk up to her, interested in the fact that she could speak their language as if it were her own native tongue.

Suddenly, Athelstan emerged from underneath another table, speaking their language as well. "Let her go!" He exclaimed as he went to protectively rush over to her.

However, just then, the leader of the group grabbed him by his robe and shoved him to the ground beside her. "Don't kill me," He pleaded as he spoke Old Norse as well, causing the men to look even more shocked than before.

"You speak our language as well?" The man whose named happened to be Ragnar asked Athelstan.

He leaned closer to Athelstan and pressed the tip of his blade against his throat, causing Athelstan to gasp in fright. "How do you speak our language?"

"I've traveled. We are told to travel, to take the word of God," Athelstan informed Ragnar without hesitation, "Please, don't kill me. And spare the girl. She's just a child. She doesn't even belong here."

Ragnar remained in place for a long moment, glancing between Athelstan and the girl. He sighed, slowly pulling away from the duo.

"What is that you have in your hand?" Ragnar asked, noticing the book Athelstan tightly grasped in his hands.

"A book..." He trailed off uneasily, "The Gospels of Saint John. I...I wanted to save it."

Just then, Ragnar roughly grabbed the book and began to flip through it curiously. "Of all the treasures I see in this place, you chose to save this?" Ragnar asked, a puzzled look on his face and Athelstan nodded, "Why?"

Athelstan remained silent and soon enough, Ragnar grew impatient. He grabbed Athelstan by his robe, pulling him off the ground before pushing him against the altar. "Why?" He asked again and Athelstan gulped nervously.

"Because without the word of God, there is only darkness," Athelstan replied as he exchanged a look with the girl, who cautiously stood up from the ground as another man entered.

"This is a strange place indeed," The man named Rollo commented with an amused look on his face, "We have been everywhere and we have found no women. Just these strange men. And a little girl who wears the rags that a slave would."

"I believe they are the priests of their god," Ragnar informed Rollo in a calm tone.

"They are," The girl spoke up, causing Ragnar and Rollo to turn to her, "They are called Monks. But I am not one. Girls cannot be monks. I am but an orphan girl the monks selfishly made into a servant instead of sending me to a good home."

Rollo stared at her for a long moment, surprised that she could speak their language. He shook his head slightly, deciding not to ask about it just yet as he turned to the men. "Take what you will. This is what we came for."

He made his way over to Ragnar, who was protectively standing in front of the girl and Athelstan. "Why have you not killed these two?"

"The priest is worth more alive—As is the girl—both of which we may sell as slaves," Ragnar informed his brother calmly.

"I will kill them," Rollo declared in a determined tone, "We have no room left on the boat."

The girl turned, rolling her eyes as she watched Athelstan close his eyes and begin to pray.

"I forbid it," Ragnar told Rollo in a stern tone.

"How can you forbid it, little brother?" Rollo asked Ragnar with an attitude, "We are all equals, and I say they die."

As Rollo went to move toward them, Athelstan grabbed onto the girl and protectively held her while Ragnar roughly shoved him back. "Does it really mean that much to you, brother?"

Rollo remained silent, staring at Ragnar for a long moment. He stepped back and lifted his ax, just before hacking the cross hanging on the wall.

With that, he turned, moving closer to Athelstan and the girl. "This is we care for your god."

As stepped away, the girl laughed, causing Rollo to turn to her. "You think I care? Destroy all you want in the place. I couldn't give a damn. I'm not a little monk that cries the moment someone shames our God," She complained as she gestured toward Athelstan, who was weeping.

Rollo leaned closer to her, smiling slightly. "This one has a sharp tongue," He commented before stepping back and turning to Ragnar, "With a mouth like hers, you and I both know she'll never last as a slave, Ragnar."

____

Several moments later, she had ropes binding her wrists together as she was left toward the boat alongside Athelstan and some other monks who were to be taken to the Vikings' homelands as slaves.

As she stepped onto the beach, she frowned as she glanced around. After all, she had never been outside the walls of Lindisfarne, she had never been allowed to.

She continued to look around, finding that many of the Northmen were carrying gold and silver from the Monastary.

"Look!" She suddenly heard Athelstan exclaim, causing her to turn to see that the monastery had been set on fire.

"Keep it moving!" Ragnar ordered and she sighed, continuing to walk with the rest of the group.

It wasn't long before climbing onto the boat that they began to sail away. She looked around, finding the Vikings to all be rowing. She shivered from the cold and glanced down at the cross she wore that Father Cuthbert had given her.

She ran her fingers over the cross. She stared down at it for a long moment, just before tossing it into the ocean.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned, only to see that it was Ragnar staring at her. He was smiling slightly, clearly amused that she had thrown the cross into the ocean when it seemed as though everyone else who had been taken as slaves had treasure their faith in their god above anything. She was different. The Monks around her knew that, too. She questioned Christianity and she had always paid for it. She had the slashes on her back to prove it.

____

Days passed and they were still sailing through the oceans. She couldn't help but feel restless. She shivered from the cold, but clearly not as much as the rest of the people around her.

She watched as Ragnar stood up, just before making his way over to her. He crouched down in front of her and she slowly lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "What is your name?"

"I don't have one," She answered in a calm tone, causing Ragnar to look confused.

"Why?" He questioned and she shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Father Cuthbert and the monks at the Monastary never thought to give me one. I was nothing but a slave to them," She explained and Ragnar frowned in confusion.

"Do you have parents? A mother? A father?"

"No. I was left at the monastery as a child. I was only told that I was a bastard," She responded, pausing a moment to look him in the eyes, "A child born from Heathens."

"Heathens?" Ragnar questioned, frowning in confusion.

"Pagans. People who do not believe in God," She replied, causing Ragnar's eyes to widen in realization.

"A Viking?" He asked, a surprised look appearing on his face after hearing her words.

"Maybe," She responded as she shrugged her shoulders, "They told me not to ask questions. I was supposed to be sent to a good home by Father Cuthbert, but instead, he kept me as a slave."

"How old are you?" He questioned curiously and she remained silent for a long moment, causing Ragnar to become confused since the girl had to actually think about it.

"Ten or eleven, I don't really know. I've been at the monastery for six years. Father Cuthbert said I was four or five when I was left there. He didn't really know and I don't think he cared. He didn't even name me," She confessed in a calm tone.

"You need a name," Ragnar decided as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "How about Tova?"

"Tova?" She asked, a disgusted look appearing on her face, "What kind of name is that?"

"A nice name," He pointed out and she shook her head.

"I don't think so," She admitted and Ragnar smiled in response.

"Well, no one grows up and likes their name so your name shall be Tova, even if you don't like it," He informed her and she simply rolled her eyes, nodding her head in understanding.

"What is your name?" She asked, a curious look on her face.

"My name is Ragnar Lothbrok," He introduced himself as he chuckled, "Your people think it is God's will that you all are here. Do you believe the same?"

"I don't know what I believe," She admitted and Ragnar nodded in understanding, "Am I going to die?"

Ragnar's smile faded and he sighed, feeling guilty that a mere girl had to ask such a thing. "I don't know yet," He answered truthfully, knowing there was no point in lying to her, "It depends on what my people make of you. Just try to contain that sharp tongue of yours."

"I'll try," She replied, only to laugh as Ragnar playfully messed up her hair before he made his way back over to his previous spot.

She smiled, only to have it fade as she turned to see the look Athelstan was giving her. "What?" She asked him with an attitude and Athelstan gave her a disapproving look before turning away from her.

She knew exactly why he gave her that look. She was getting too comfortable with the Vikings and they both knew why. All her life, she had never felt like she belonged anywhere, especially not at the Monastary. Now, she was meeting these Vikings and somehow, she knew their language and spoke it better than she did Old Saxon.

In a way, she felt as though she could find a home in Scandanavia, even if it was as a slave.

First chapter!! I hope you like it!!

Tova is connected to the Viking world in some way. 😬

How do you think that is?