Heart's Conquest; A Viking Romance

by Andromeda -

  "I hope you know what you are doing, girl," he whispered to her.

  "I have ways of escape if I get stuck," she answered. "Do it."

  He looked around, making sure that no one was watching before he pulled his foot back and stomped hard on the back of her left leg. The crunch of her bone breaking echoed in her ear and Rashida couldn’t help but unleash a painful scream.

  She began to limp, falling back and the Frenchmen noticed this. They pointed her out to the general and he sent men to go and get her. At the sound of her scream, Alrik turned around and saw her, as well as seeing the gates opening to the city, the guards closing in.

  " Rashida!" he yelled, turning around to run to her.

  Gerik played his part and grabbed Alrik, just as the Frenchmen caught Rashida. "Alrik, stop!”

  "Uncle, let me go!" Alrik yelled. "I have to get to her!"

  "Alrik, she can handle herself," Gerik reminded him. "Besides, your people need you."

  Alrik watched as they tied her up, and noticed that she wasn’t fighting back that hard. He frowned. There was something going on here. He wouldn't put it past his wife to have something up her sleeve. Going with Gerik, he looked over his shoulder one last time as Rashida was led into the city.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Trojan Horse

  The door to her cell opened and two heavily armed men stood there, leering at her in the darkness. A day ago, Rashida let the French capture her and they threw her into this cell. A gown was thrown at her, but she didn't touch it, as it was covered in dirt and crawling with lice and mites. The moment she passed through the gates, however, her mind began working for phase two of her plan. She just hoped that Gerik remembered what to do on his end. She was going to become an item she read about from the English books she had gotten: a Trojan horse.

  "The king wishes to see you, savage," one of the guards said in a deep, gruff voice.

  The man next to him elbowed him. "She doesn't understand French.”

  "Oh, that is right," the first guard said with a smirk. "Her infidel mind can't process such a thing."

  Rashida almost rolled her eyes. She would never get enough of how pompous these Frenchmen were. They thought that just because they were hidden behind their thick walls, then they were safe. If only they knew what she had in mind…

  "Come with us, savage," the second guard said as he reached for her.

  Rashida stepped forward, ignoring their leering looks as they led her up several flights of stairs and into a grand throne room. Noble French people looked at her with wide eyes as they whispered among themselves. They had never seen a woman like her. From her brown skin, flaming red hair and clear green eyes; she looked otherworldly to them.

  "Witch," a woman whispered.

  "Savage," a man snapped.

  "Heathen!" a woman hissed as she spat.

  Rashida glanced in the direction of the woman who spat at her and then made the split fly back into her face. The woman gasped in surprise and backed away.

  A skinny, richly dressed man sat on a large throne watching her, a young woman at his side. The woman looked at Rashida up and down critically, before her eyes looked quickly at her stomach. She saw what the other men in the room had missed: the light roundness of it under Rashida’s tunic and trousers as they took away her armor. The guards tried to push Rashida onto her knees before the man, but Rashida locked her legs. Like a tree, she was to be unmoved.

  "Kneel before the king," a voice that belonged to the general barked.

  Rashida looked at him and shook her head as if not understanding. The general smirked and turned to the man on the throne.

  "My king," he said. "Why don't we just execute this savage? It's clear that she is a demoness. I saw her in the battle with the heathens and she fought with the devil's power."

  The king looked to Rashida and tilted his head to the side. Rashida copied his movements. "I see no danger in her," he said.

  "My emperor," the general pressed. "I saw it all. This girl is a witch and has some air of importance with the leader of the heathens. Kill her and he won't have the heart to continue with this invasion."

  "Or we incur the wrath of him if we murder his woman and his child," the woman at the side of the king said.

  The general looked to her in confusion. "What?"

  "She is with child," the woman replied. "Anyone can see it. Well, anyone with common sense. And you know that it's against God's Law for us to kill an innocent child."

  "That thing would be a savage infidel," the general growled.

  "Enough," the king said as he held up his hand. "The girl is to not be harmed. However, she will stay our prisoner until we know how to handle this."

  "But…But…But…" the general stammered.

  "Not just that," the king continued. "But you, my child," he turned to the woman at his side. "You will look after her."

  The woman's face twisted up. "But…But, father…"

  "No buts, my daughter," the king said as he stood up. "You will take her to your chambers and clean her up. If she is civilized enough, she can come down for dinner in the Great Hall."

  "My…My king," the general stammered as he tried to get control of the situation. "Do…do you think it's wise?"

  The king looked at him. "She is with child and deep within our forces," he sighed. "I'm sure she is fine. What is the worst that can happen?"

  ✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

  The princess watched as Rashida looked around her chambers, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t know why she opened her big mouth, but she knew that she couldn't let them kill her. More so, she was frightened of what might happen to her people if this girl’s husband heard of her murder.

  "I don't know why I saved you," the princess grumbled. "You're just going to cause trouble."

  "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Rashida asked in perfect French. "But you'll come to find out that I'm actually quite 'tame'."

  The princess’s jaw dropped, all the blood draining from her cheeks. "How…How did you…?"

  "You'll quickly find out that I'm full of surprises," Rashida answered as she picked up a gold and silver plate. "Now, here's the deal: you leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone. Deal?"

  The princess’ mouth flapped like a drowning fish and then she shook her head to clear it. "What…what…how are you doing that?"

  Rashida chuckled. "You mean talking? I thought you French thought you were the most superior people on the planet."

  "I mean…how can you understand me?" the princess asked. "How are you doing that?"

  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Rashida said. "Now, for introductions. My name is Rashida, and my husband is the man leading this invasion."

  "Why…Why are you here?" the princess asked.

  "Besides the classic gold, silver and resources?" Rashida asked. "My husband is looking for something."

  "What?"

  "He has heard about Paris. He knows you have powerful informational knowledge and he wants it."

  The princess considered this. "And…if he gets this, will he leave?"

  "Most likely," Rashida said with a shrug. "But if I am not returned to him soon, or you surrender, then you will face his wrath. In that, he is like his father."

  "I…I will talk to my father," the princess stammered. "I do not want more bloodshed."

  Rashida nodded and watched her leave before turning back to study the surroundings around her.

  Meanwhile, outside, Alrik held a knife to Gerik’s throat. "What are you planning, Uncle?!" he demanded. "Tell me now!"

  Gerik held up his hands. "It was your wife's idea," he pointed out. "She thought that if she could get in, then she could try and find their weakness on the inside.”

  "How does she plan to do this?" Alrik asked.

  "I…don't know," Gerik confessed. "But she is a strong woman. You know that she can handle herself."

  Alrik scowled and stalked off, going into the woods to think. He knew that Rashida was strong.
She could handle herself in the toughest of situations, but he was worried about her and his child. After this, he promised himself that she would never go out raiding again to protect her. If only he could get her to agree to such a thing, which he knew she most likely would not.

  A crunch behind him made him turn around, and when he did, he saw Boden and Canute emerge from behind the trees. The two men stalked forward, their swords in their hands. Alrik wasn’t surprised, as he expected an attack from the two brothers, but just didn't know when.

  "I would be lying if I said I was surprised you're doing this," Alrik said aloud.

  "We hope you don't feel too upset by this," Boden said, as he and his brother spread out. "But you must have known this was going to happen."

  "I knew it," Alrik said, taking out his sword. "But I am going to give you the chance to turn away now and leave with your lives."

  Boden and Canute looked at each other and smirked before they charged forward.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Walls come Tumbling Down

  Alrik grunted as he buried his axe into Boden’s chest, then yanked it out. His brother, Canute, bellowed in rage and charged him once again. Both men were badly wounded from the fight, but neither wanted to give up. Their weapons repeatedly clashed, sparks flying from the force of the blows. They were evenly matched in strength. Before Alrik would see, however, Canute reached down and took a knife he had hidden and slashed Alrik across the face with it. The young king bellowed with pain as he covered his right eye.

  Canute chuckled deeply as he circled him like a vulture around a carcass. "You know…I will give you this, you have impressed me. You are a good fighter, much better than your father was. I was planning on killing him, but you will be fine."

  "I am going…to kill you," Alrik said as he spat out blood.

  Canute laughed. "You are too wounded to. You know…I expected more from you, honestly, seeing as you always have time to spend in the bed with that brown-skinned witch of yours."

  "Don't you talk of Rashida," Alrik growled.

  "You know," Canute said as he slowly knelt. "She is quite the looker, and still young. I am supposed to marry Aslaug after I kill you, but between you and me, she's a bit too old, unable to give me the heirs I need. However, your wife has proven herself to be quite fertile. I'm sure she'll love being under me, or on top. From what I've heard, she has wonderful hips."

  The dam that Alrik had holding back his fury broke and he lunged forward. Slashing his axe with blinding speed, he moved forward, kicking and punching, anything to bring Canute down. Canute, caught off guard by how furiously Alrik was attacking, was unable to keep up.

  Alrik cut off his sword arm and kicked him hard in the stomach. Canute went flying, falling to the ground and Alrik was right there on him. His axe pushed so deep inside that it dug into the ground behind him. Canute coughed on his own blood filling up his lungs, his eyes locked with Alrik.

  Slowly, Alrik leaned down until they could be kissing. "A thousand years from now," he whispered, "the world will know my name. They will know what I've done. With you…they will know nothing. You will disappear from history, the way rice does in the wind. You underestimated me, and that was both you and your brother's greatest mistake. I will be known from this day and until my death as King Alrik One-Eye!"

  He pulled his axe back and then brought it down, cutting Canute’s head clean off. He then turned away and began to walk back to camp, a newfound aura around him. Slowly, he was coming into the mold of his father, the great and mighty Henrik Ironside, but he was going to make a name for himself. The world would know of him, Alrik One-Eye. As he neared the camp, however, a hawk landed before him with glowing green eyes that he recognized instantly.

  "Rashida," he whispered.

  "Alrik," Gerik called as he ran over. "It's time."

  Alrik nodded, but allowed Gerik to take him to a healer who would clean his wound. Now was time for the attack.

  ✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

  Inside the French castle, Rashida grunted as she tried to walk around in the tight-fitting, strange dress that the princess forced her to wear. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw what looked like a French noblewoman who spent too much time in the sun.

  The princess looked at her and nodded with approval. She knew the plan tonight and hoped that Rashida kept her promise. "And you swear everything will go as planned?" she asked.

  Rashida turned to her. "Yes," she said, nodding. "Just make sure all that you do not want harmed are in your chambers. If anyone is not there, I cannot guarantee their safety.”

  The princess nodded, leading her to the dining hall. Rashida tried to stay back, slipping through the shadows, but was being watched by the general. The older man knew that she was up to something and kept his critical eyes on her, barely blinking as she slipped from the room.

  He followed her, not wanting her to get away. Rashida led him up to the walls where she climbed the stairs and looked around before she bent down to press her palm to it. As she began to whisper incantations, he drew his sword. The sound of the hiss of metal made her turn around quickly, and she saw him standing there.

  "I knew you were a witch," he whispered venomously. "I knew it!"

  "There are a lot of things about me you don't know," Rashida said, surprising him that she was speaking French.

  "How…?" he whispered.

  "It's a long story," she said, waving it off. "Not something that I truthfully want to get into right now."

  It took him a moment to overcome his shock before he lunged at her. Rashida jumped back, and when he tried to slash at her, she caught the sword between her palms. The general grunted as he tried to pull it free, then gasped in surprise when she kicked him hard, running up his stomach and flipping over his head so to land behind him. A single leg sweep and he fell on his back, but he lunged at her again. Quickly, he brought his sword up and cut her deeply on the side, blood dripping down the torn dress.

  Rashida held onto her side a moment and then she looked at him. Slowly, she withdrew her hand, and the general watched with horror-filled eyes as the cut began to heal itself.

  "H…How?" he gasped.

  Rashida laughed. As she looked to him, her eyes began to glow green. "Trust me, you have no idea who you are dealing with."

  The general tried to throw his sword at her, but she moved to the side and it flew over the edge of the wall. As she began to walk to him, he howled in fright and anger.

  "Demoness!" he yelled. "Witch! Succubus! You will not have my soul!"

  He tried to run, but Rashida dissolved into the ground and reappeared in front of him. Panting, he tried to run away again, but everywhere he turned, she was right there, her glowing eyes boring into his soul.

  "Oh, my dear general," she said as he cowered, backing toward the edge. "I want so much more than that…"

  He froze as she pulled him to her and pressed her lips to his as they fell over the edge of the wall together. His howls were lost in the wind as they came crashing down back to earth. Rashida, of course, was completely unharmed, but the general was not so lucky. Every bone in his body was broken, and as he looked around before the darkness of death closed in, he saw Alrik step forward.

  Kneeling before him, Alrik smirked at him and then stood up, turning to Rashida, and pulled her into his arms to kiss.

  As much as Rashida wanted to marvel in his arms for this kiss, she knew that they had a job to do and she was forced to pull away. "Nice to see you too," she said. “Also, I like the eyepatch.”

  Alrik smiled, his blond hair flopped over his right eye, and at that moment, Rashida marveled at how much he looked like the god Odin, who had sacrificed his right eye for the wife of ultimate wisdom.

  “Thank you,” he said. “So, what is this wonderful plan that you have in that head of yours? How are you going to get us inside?"

  "Simple," Rashida said as she turned to the wall. "I'm going to bring it down.

  Alrik was confused, but watched a
s she held out her hands. All the muscles in her body seemed to strain as she focused, a green aura surrounding her body. All the warriors could feel the mystical energy surrounding them. Several took a couple steps back for respect, while others dropped to one knee.

  Nakia held her breath as she felt the energy coursing through her veins, and it felt amazing. She had never felt power like this before as she called on the gods to help her, but she knew that she couldn’t let it corrupt her. Unleashing a loud shriek, she slammed her hands to the ground.

  Cracks of green energy circled around her hands before it flew forward. Snaking up the walls, the earth began to tremble fiercely. The guards on the walls all screamed in fright, several fell to their deaths, as they were too late to escape the crumbling wall.

  Rashida placed a protective shield over the warriors, the rubble flying over them as the walls all crumbled to the ground. Not all the walls fell, however, but a good section of it did. More than enough for the warriors to get through.

  When the dust and debris cleared, she lowered the shield and looked to Alrik, giving him a nod. Alrik raised his sword and pointed forward. The warriors leapt to their feet and charged forward. There was no stopping them. The army of the damned had come to Paris, and as people screamed and ran to try and find cover, there wasn’t anything that was going to save them. Paris was at their mercy.

  Chapter Thirty: Firmly in my Place

  "Mommy!" Horus cried as he saw Rashida walk through the door of their home.

  "Papa!" little Iiona screamed when she saw Alrik.

  All their children ran to their parents, shrieking with joy as they wrapped their arms around their necks. Rashida chuckled, but was careful to keep herself a bit distant because of the small bundle of life in her arms.

  "Ooooo," Hakan said when he saw the baby. "Boy or girl?"

  "A boy," Nakia said, smiling down at her sons. "His name is Henrik, Henrik Alriksson."

  The raiding party had finally returned home, and tonight there would be a magnificent feast to celebrate. After she had taken her new son to the nursery, Rashida needed a moment alone to process all that had happened.