I

Something was different.

She knew it, as soon as the wind stopped – that warm, unsettling wind, which brought whispers. There was no movement, no sound. Just a terrible sun shining on a cloudless sky. The sea itself appeared to burn in bright colors, when on the horizon a line of sails emerged.

The townspeople watched the ships as they came nearer, intrigued by their strange curved prows. Some thought that they brought Jewish merchants, some that they hailed from African ports. But the young Queen knew better. The shape and swiftness of the vessels left no doubt. Those ships bore no merchandise. Those ships were bringing the end.

Aboard, tall, blue-eyed barbarians awaited a signal, eager to forcefully wield their two-handed axes. At the prow of the foremost ship, their leader gazed fiercely upon the city. Soon, a horn sounded and a battle cry rose as a chant.

The giant and his men splashed into the water and then, all hell broke loose. On the streets, wild Northmen slew and burned everything on their way to the fortress. They defied the foreign God and stripped the altars of their gold and silver. Troops of soldiers and simple men fought bravely, but were no match to the Norse ferocity.

For hours, the barbarians pursued their work of destruction until finally, the fortress was conquered. On its hallways, blinded by fear and smoke, people were screaming and running for their lives.

"Where are Athanaric's soldiers? Where is the help he promised?" the King shouted "Damn you! You and your wretched liar of a father!"

Before she could protect herself, the King hit her across the face with the back of his hand, sending her to the floor.

"I hope you die a slow and painful death! It's what you deserve, you treacherous witch!" The pain and taste of her own blood made the Queen shake with anger.

That old imbecile! Falling for her father's lies. Believing Athanaric would come to his aid. Seven months ago, Athanaric had bought himself - through her marriage- the claim to the coastal region, promising aid, in an eventual invasion.

But what her idiotic husband failed to see, was that her father had no intention of sending troops to save him and his sons. Not in time at least. And although she was herself a pawn, discarded on this chaotic board, the Queen felt no fear. Chaos was an opportunity for those determined to risk everything.

[…]

"They are sorting us like cattle," Eva thought. Some were to be held for ransom, others turned into slaves, but most were going to be killed. Have their throats sliced. "At least it is a quick way to die," the Queen considered while the blade skipped her throat and she was tossed with the other nobles.

Hours later, when the screaming had finally stopped, Eva could still smell blood and death in the air. She heard heavy footsteps outside the door and soon, a group of men entered.

As they begun to examine the prisoners, one of them caught the queen's attention. He needed no fine garments to display authority. His stature and fierce eyes could command the roughest sea robber, bring them to his will.

Eva was pulled up and shoved in front of this chieftain.

"I tell you Rollo, she must be royalty! Look at her jewels" the Viking who held her pushed her hair back to reveal her chest, covered in long gold necklaces "...look at the finery she's wearing," he added pulling at the soft fabric covering her breasts.

Taking advantage of the man's carelessness, Eva took the knife worn by her oppressor, without a hint of hesitation. It was a quick, bold move, made in the attempt of winning the chieftain's attention. She knew the Vikings could take the knife from her, but hoped her audacity would pay off. Those barbarians admired bravery above all things, after all.

"I am royalty, you wild thing, and you will show me respect!" the Queen hissed, raising the knife to the man's throat. The other savages began to laugh and close in around her, like dogs.

"Order your men to stay back," she said looking around "or I will slit his throat!"

"Go ahead, girl!" said the tall one, "What do I care?" he added, grinning and signaling his men at the same time.

"That pretty smile is not reaching your eyes, Viking! You've fought many years beside this fool, and even if he weren't a friend - which I doubt- you wouldn't let him die at the hands of a ...girl, would you now?"

Eva's tone was cold and even. She needed to keep her calm.

"Would that be an honorable death?" she continued, "Would it get him to Valhalla?" at this point her tone grew mockingly. "You do care, Viking, so order your men to remain where they are!"

To stress her point, Eva pressed the blade just enough to draw some blood. Seeing that, the warlord shouted: "Enough! Stop this foolishness and you'll be free to leave. Unharmed."

"Leave?! I do not want to leave!" the Queen scoffed. "I want to talk terms, Rollo. It would be... beneficial, to both of us, if I were to become your ... guest."

"My guest?" the chieftain was at a loss, "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"Everyone knows who you are – such a fierce warrior! My name is Eva, daughter of Athanaric, ruler of the Middle Kingdom and —"

"—you were right Erik," Rollo's eyes narrowed down in interest as he cut in. "She is royalty. We have the honor of standing in the Queen's presence," he said, stepping next to her.

Then, with a swift move, he caught her wrist and took the knife, holding her against himself until she ceased struggling and gave him a cold look. "Let go of me, you bloody heathen! Now!"

Curling his lips in a sarcastic smile, the Viking chieftain unceremoniously turned her around and pushed her to an adjoining room, slamming the door shut.

"You'd better pray your words intrigue me!" he hissed, grabbing her upper arms. "I do not like this sort of games and I surely don't like to be talked down in front of my men!"

"What will you gain from this raid? I know about you, about your ships, about your gods," she whispered, moving her eyes over his features. "What do you know about YOUR enemy, Viking? Not much ..."

She was barely uttering the words, in a soft voice, which combined with her deep gaze, was almost hypnotizing. Rollo released her arms, but kept watching speculatively.

"My father was aware of the Northern invasions in Britain; he knew sooner or later you will raid these lands too. Therefore, he prepared himself. He has an army, gathered near, just waiting...

"His turn to die?"

"...newsof my husband's death! He knows you will defeat him and reduce the number of your men in doing so, becoming a ...easier target. All father has to do is wait patiently for the perfect moment to strike you, than claim these lands in my name."

They both stood for a moment, examining each other, like gladiators in a ring.

"Why do you tell me this?" Rollo asked, stepping behind her.

"Because I believe we have much in common".

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we aren't what we appear to be; we are capable of using every circumstance to our advantage." she said. "It is why I have a proposition for you. Do not settle for what you can take with you from this raid. This region is rich in silver, gold, minerals ... rich enough to buy thousands of mercenaries. Claim these lands by marrying me and you will never need to raid again!"

Rollo brushed back her hair, than leaned in from behind, scraping her cheek in the process.

"You are already married, your majesty." Eva slightly turned her head towards him.

"I know where my husband and his sons are hiding … If I have your warriors, you have a wife."

Rollo moved closer, running insinuating hands up her arms, before resting them around her throat.

"Aren't you afraid I might be cruel? Or kill you when I no longer need you?" he asked, wrapping his fingers tight enough to prove his point, in a gesture that was more possessive rather than violent.

" I think as my father does - as western leaders do. You will always need me, Rollo! Wild as you are, you can clearly see that our way is better in … everything. You cannot win a war like this... covered in skin and fur."

"We won today, do not forget it."

"You were lucky today - met a leaderless army. Your Vikings are always relying on the element of surprise! Never dwelt with a real army. It won't always be like this. You need strategy, armors ...you need my advice. Take it!"

He stared at her, unable to look away as long as she held his eyes. She had captivating eyes: piercing, black as the darkest night. They seemed to absorb the light and be lighted, at the same time by her strong spirit. She probably had a heart to match, he thought.
It felt like playing with fire. Wild, uncontrollable fire. Still, he was unable to resist it.

"Why do you do this? Do not look away, look at me!" he said, lifting her chin, "Tell me the truth."

"If a woman can only have power through men, than let it be through the strongest man she can find!"

He touched her face again, that perfect, unblemished face, tracing the fine line that led to the rapid pulse, beating in her throat.
She was cold, calculated, but not made of stone. He knew she was afraid; afraid of what was to come, afraid of him.
Nevertheless, she acted despite her fear. She was a dangerous woman.