- 520 CapsContenido
- 4.631 valoraciones
- NO.200+APOYOS
One must see through the deceit of one's very own truth. Do you believe in the Old Gods? This story follows the life of a young African boy, who was ripped from the life he had known and thrown into an unforgiving one where a single mistake could cost him everything. Being branded a "thrall", he was to be sold but an unforeseen event swept him ashore in the heart of the Norsemen, the Vikings. What fate has the Gods chosen for this child? is it one of salvation or one of destruction? COVER IS OWNED BY ME!
"Row! Row! Row!"
The constant screaming of a man echoes as thunder thumped in the distance, the rough seas crashing against the heel of the boat.
The screeching of shackled chains against the wooden floor revealed multiple people of different races in chains, and 3 men with whips standing above them.
"This was quite the harvest! I bet these slaves would fetch quite the price!" The bulky merchant bragged to his other two colleagues but they did not share his enthusiasm.
"Shut up Olaf. We are in dangerous waters!" The slender merchant with an eye patch warned but the last one among the three was focused on a child, his gaze was not one of curiosity but of perversion.
"You cannot touch the goods, you know this Arne." The eye-patched man warned, but the thunderstorms made it impossible for his voice to reach the ears of Arne, not that it would.
"Just a little taste wouldn't hurt, Frode…." He urged while wetting his lips with his tongue.
Arne approached the child with Frode watching him closely.
"Hey, there little girl," Arne said but the child backed away in fear but Frode quickly grabbed the girl by the throat and raised her small body.
"That's not very nice now, is it?" Arne said but realized this was a boy, the dark-skinned boy with messy afro and brown eyes bearing a unique tattoo on the left pec of the child.
"Hahahaha! Arne, you have a thing for little boys now, eh?" Olaf teased, laughing hysterically but this only angered Arne.
"Shut up!" Arne shouted, tossing the child off the boat without a second thought.
"Oops, he slipped," Arne said with a grin but this made Olaf laugh harder with Frode shaking his head in disbelief.
[Unknown Language] "H-Hel-!" The drowning child struggled to speak with the waves taking him further and further away from the boat, he managed one last look and realized no one was looking his way.
"I-I don't want to die… somebody please save me…" This was the last thought of the boy before he was completely submerged and swept with the waves as the wicked storm raged.
"Did you think he could swim too?" Olaf asked, barely containing his laughter as the boat sailed, leaving the boy to his fate.
------------------------------
"Bjorn! that is not how you hold your sword." A 6'2 dark-haired man with a dragon tattoo etched on his left temple, donning a Mohawk which reached the nape of his neck that complimented his dark green eyes who looked to be in his early thirties.
But Bjorn kept swinging carelessly, much to the amusement of everyone around them.
"Stop moving around Ulf!" Bjorn muttered and met the gaze of the man he was sparring. He did not seem to share the same excitement as the rest of the men cheering Bjorn on.
"You think this is a joke, Bjorn?" Ulf asked and Bjorn momentarily froze up and with this, the place fell silent for Ulf was known to be a stickler for rules.
Raising his blade to the neck of the boy, who stood at 4'11 with an attractive face, one that could easily pass for that of a girl. His blonde hair, which was styled in an undercut, brought out his piercing blue eyes, aged 11.
With the blade of Ulf against his neck, and Bjorn sweating profusely, a voice called out.
"That is enough, Ulf. You have taught the boy his lesson, don't you think?" A bald man reaching a height of 5'11 and a tattoo of Fenrir the wolf, sitting gently on his forehead and with a clean shaved beard who looked to be around the same age as Ulf, said.
"If it isn't Hagen, the boat builder. This doesn't concern you." Ulf teased in a belittling tone with the warriors chuckling.
Bjorn used this chance to back away from the blade before lunging forward to try and tackle Ulf but Ulf didn't move an inch due to the significant weight difference.
"Not bad! You are truly the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, Bjorn!" Ulf said, completely changing the mood as everyone burst out laughing but a loud voice unsettled them.
"SOMEONE WASHED UP ON THE SHORE!" A child, who was visibly out of breath, shouted.
The Vikings were quick to rush to the shore with their swords in hand, for they did not know what awaited them with Ulf leading the charge.
"Halt!" The mighty Ulf commanded with a raised hand, and the rest of the warriors stopped as he, alone, moved forward to investigate the unconscious body sprawled awkwardly on the ground.
"Is he dead?" Bjorn asked his uncle but got no response from Ulf.
"It is just a kid…" Ulf muttered to himself, but he did not for a moment lower his guard for even a kid was capable of killing a Viking if taken unaware.
"IT IS JUST A SLAVE!" Ulf said with laughter, much to the amusement of the rest of the Vikings. He could tell this child was a slave because of the branded stamp around his forearm.
"Leave him for the vultures, he will be dead in no time..." Ulf said once more while walking away but Hagen stepped right in front of him to block his path.
"What is it, Hagen?" Ulf questioned the man blocking his path but Hagen did not bother giving him a reply, brushing past him and going straight to the child.
"Good, the boy still lives," Hagen said, flinging the child over his shoulder.
"Shouldn't the water have washed off the dirt?" A Viking questioned because this was the first time he had seen dark skin, this was the first time most had seen such a skin complexion.
"No, dear warrior. That is just his skin." Hagen responded as he walked away with the child slung over his shoulder with Ulf looking at him with contempt.
"That damn Hagen!" A thought floated in the head of Ulf with his fist clenched in anger.
