Alice2015
Literotica Guru
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"The Shieldmaiden"
(closed)
(closed)
Ilga slashed her sword through the air, cutting open the chest of the man rushing her, then spun to look for a new target. But, there was none to be found. She searched all about herself, the adrenaline of battle causing her heart to pound, but ... the battle was over.
She scanned the Vikings still standing until she found Lothbrook. She met his gaze and nodded to him, acknowledging their victory. His victory, her mind reminded her. He will see it as such.
The sun had fallen over the battle field. The village's dead had been gathered and taken to their homes to be cleaned and prepared for their trip to Valhalla, while the enemy's dead had been stripped of their arms, armor, and all other valuables and tossed upon a pile of dry wood where they were burning without ceremony. Thus was the only end suitable for invaders and criminals.
In the long house, the local Earl sat on his throne, looking out upon the warriors who had come to his village's rescue, gathered in a semi circle about their Master and his Lady. The Earl looked nervous, as he should. His village had been attacked repeatedly over the months, with most of his Warriors and Shieldmaidens killed, seriously injured, or captured and taken away. Without the timely arrival of Lothbrook, Ilga, and the men and women serving under them, the village surely wouldn't have survived this final attack.
With the help of the strangers, the Earl's place on this throne had survived another day. The question now -- as he faced the fierce-looking Lothbrook and the deviously smirking Ilga -- was whether his place here would survive another night.
He praised the two leaders opposite him, as well as the fighting force behind them. He saluted them with a raised stein of thick brew, which caused the others to call out victoriously and raise their own steins often between drinking from them or, even more often, sloshing their contents upon one another recklessly.
Finally, he met Lothbrook's hard gaze and donned a serious tone, one that Ilga sensed had a touch of fear in it as well. "Lord Lothbrook. How can I repay you for keeping me in power. What can I offer you ... your lovely and courageous Shieldmaiden ... and the fierce warriors who fought and, tragically, died along side you?"
Ilga, who had been slowly pacing to and fro behind Lothbrook, stopped behind and slightly to the side of him, waiting for the response that he'd already told her would come.
"I will be Earl of this village," her lover said simply. Lothbrook gave the man before him a moment to consider his options, then essentially reduced those choices to one. "The enemy would have taken your village this day ... killed your men and a great many of your women ... enslaved the rest of your women and the children ... for their mines ... their oars..."
Lothbrook looked directly to the Earl's two daughters, sitting off to their now trembling father's side as he added, "...their beds."
He looked back to the Earl and concluded, "You will retire in safety to the mountains with your family. You will be cared for, by me and mine ... but you will renounce your rule over this land."
Lothbrook took a more cavalier tone, advising the Earl, "Take it easy. Sit back ... enjoy the warmth of the summer sun and the beauty of the winter snow. Eat, drink, be merry ... fuck often and hard..."
Again, with a knowing and leering glance, the victorious warrior looked to the Earl's young, beautiful daughters. Lothbrook may have told Ilga his plans for the Earl, but he hadn't told her of his plans for one or even both of the man's virtuous, as-of-yet untouched daughters.
"And if I choose not to retire to this easy life that you suggest, Lord Lothbrook?" the Earl asked, gripping his hands to the arms of his throne in an attempt to hide their gentle shaking.
Lothbrook gave the ruler a long, hard stare, then said simply, "You have no choice, m'lord."
"Yes, he does," Ilga said from above and behind her lover.
Lothbrook turned his head to look up at his woman with a hard, disapproving expression. It was not her place to interrupt such negotiations, and while chastising her -- and likely punishing her with a brutal fuck -- would have to wait until later, he could at least make his anger with her known now with a hard look.
Of course, none of that mattered, for even as he was turning to look up at her, Ilga was reaching the knife out before his neck, then -- with its recently sharpened and glistening blade pressed against his throat -- withdrawing it again with enough force to cut him all the way back to the spine.
The Earl's wife and daughters and other unsuspecting villagers assembled for the ceremony gasped or screamed or turned their heads away as Lothbrook gasped through the thick blood filling his throat and reddening his armor and furs. He reached up instinctive to Ilga, grasping the blade hand and the chain mail over her chest. But any attempts at either defense or offense were fruitless, as he tilted away from her and fell to the thick planks ... dead just seconds later.
And while there was horror amongst the villagers and Earl's family, there was little reaction whatsoever from the Vikings of Ilga's Clan. They had long seen this coming, thus there was little surprise amongst them.
As she looked down at the now-still man, Ilga wiped the blood from the knife with an index finger and smeared it down her face, from forehead to chin. She repeated the gesture with the other side of the blade and the other side of her face, then looked to the Earl whose confusion was conspicuous.
"You will keep your lands, m'lord," Ilga said with a subservient tone and a slight bow. She looked behind her to the left, then the right, then back to the Earl and continued, "We came here to serve you ... not replace you. We ask only for a boat and provisions for the long journey ahead of us."
The Earl studied Ilga for a long moment before looking back to the dead man on the floor. He wasn't sorry to see Lothbrook dead, but he was very shocked at the way his death had come. What history surrounded this murder? And, seeing the acceptance of the Warriors and Shieldmaidens behind Ilga, how could this man have been so unaware of the danger that had just ended his life?
"You will have your boat, m'lady," the Earl said. "And your provisions. Anything you ask for is yours."
Ilga glanced to the Earl's other side, to the young man standing behind his father. Ilga hadn't been unaware of the glances -- the ogling -- that the Earl's son had given her through the three days her clan had been present, preparing for the battle. With Lothbrook now dead, Ilga would need a new lover, and there wasn't an appropriate one to be had from her own Clan.
"We will need a translator when we arrive at our destination," Ilga said.
"Where is it that you are going, m'lady?"
"West."
Ilga's answer may have sounded vague to the uninformed, but the Earl knew that the Shieldmaiden meant England. And, glancing toward his son -- who had been taught the language of that distant land by an enslaved priest for whom the Earl had traded a homestead and a hundred sheep -- he knew precisely who Ilga meant to have as his interpreter.
He looked back to her, then to the body laying in a pool of still expanding blood. His answer to her was not in fear of what she might do to him if he said no, but was in appreciation for the Vikings keeping him in power today and for Ilga keeping him in power tonight.
"You shall have your interpreter, m'lady," the Earl said, again glancing to his son to see his reaction. He couldn't read the boy's expression. He'd expected either excitement for the imminent adventure or despair over learning he would be leaving everything he knew for unknown parts ... and unknown dangers. The Earl looked back to Ilga, then to the other saviors. He stood, offered out his stein again, and announced loudly, "You will have all you want for your journey tomorrow! But tonight ... you will have all you want for your pleasure!"
There was a loud cheer, lots of crashing of steins, a multitude of hugs and pats on the back and groping of body parts of the opposite sex -- with no particular care as to which woman or man to whom those parts belonged -- and the celebration began...
It would actually be six days before the Clan departed for the West. They spent that time tending to their wounded, armor, and arms; preparing the boat for the long journey; and, of course, making sacrifice to the Gods and sending their dead to Valhalla upon a night-illuminating pyre.
In the meantime, it was the second morning after the battle that the Earl's son came to the building in which Ilga and her attendees had made themselves home. The Shieldmaiden gestured the young man forward, asking, "Tell me your name."
(OOC: This is a closed role play.)