You awaken to the sounds of war, 12th century war. Swords clash. Men cry out. You tremble. You look around. It is not your bedroom. These are not your clothes. You are dressed in a rough woven dress right out of a movie.
That's it. You are just having a vivid dream. This is just your mind's sequel to the Singing Sword, that silly movie you watched too late last night. In the morning everything will be back to normal. Then the dream gets more vivid.
The door to your chamber bursts. There is a Viking. There can be no mistake. From his horned helm to his booted feet, he is a mighty man. There is a blood lust in his eyes. Yet, he seems some how familiar. His beard is dark and full with a touch of red and a touch of silver. His sword drips with blood. His shield is notched from heavy fighting. He seems on a mission. Heaven help the man who interferes. He sheaths his sword. His shield still hangs from his forearm. On it is a longboat rolling across the sea under full sail. Where have you seen that ship?
Without a word, he takes you in his arms. Taking you and the blanket right off your bed. You hang your arms around his neck not knowing whether he is friend or foe but it seems so right. He carries you into the darkness, sheltered behind his great shield. His chest rumbles as he bellows orders in a strange language. You melt into his chest. It feels so safe, yet so dangerous.
There are Vikings everywhere. Buildings are on fire. Men lay dead. Women weep. It seems unreal, like something that happened centuries ago. Your Viking carries you through this chaos with long strides. Everywhere you look, Vikings salute the lordly man who carries you gently in his arms.
Soon you see the beach. A small fleet of ships is just visible through the mists. A few fireflies glow eerily in the night. There is a blood moon casting a grisly hue on the whole scene. Your lordly Viking heads unerringly towards the largest ship. The ship's dragonhead prow stares boldly at you. Its fierce teeth seem ready to devour you.
With great gentleness your are deposited amid ship. The crew does not even look up. A tall warrior at the back motions for you to come. You slowly make your way. He signs for you to sit and bows slightly.
In the distance you can hear your Viking bellowing orders. The raid is over. Vikings stream out of the village carrying their prizes. Suddenly it hits you. You have been taken as a prize. Ripped from the fabric of this strange place. Will you be ravished or cherished? Will you be thrown to the crew after he has had is way? Your body shivers and it is not just the night chill in the air.
One by one, the ships head to sea. Your Viking is back. He seems a little tired now. He nods to the tall warrior in the stern and the ship shutters off the beach. The gentle rocking is almost pleasant as the boat comes to life. Soon the fires of the village are just a glimmer. The fireflies fade into the darkness. Your Viking is inspecting the crew. You seem to be ignored. We pass around a point. We have left a bay. The ship starts to ride the rolling waves of the open sea. We travel before the wind. The sail is raised. The oars are stored and the crew sleeps save for the tall giant at the stern. He seems to be second in command. His arms look like trees. The muscles in his legs are sharply defined. He exudes power. You wonder what your Viking has hid under his heavy leather jerkin with its many heavy iron rings.
Then he is there next to you. Still is his full battle gear. Without a word he scoops you off your seat and into his arms. He begins carrying you to the bow, past all of the crew. There is a wise crack. You do not understand entirely but it seems to be about your legs. It is met by a swift solid kick. You are sure the man has a broken nose. You realize that your Viking will tolerate no disrespect and that disobedience could cause a strong reaction. Yet with you, he seems gentle and somehow familiar. You wonder how he found you in this place and time where you do not belong. So many puzzles…but it is pleasant in his strong arms as the ship climbs and falls over the rolling waves of the sea.
You arrive in the bow. The sea is dark and forbidding. The dragonhead seems less fierce from the back side. More like the head of a horse leading the way home as it slices through the waves. You decide that it feels safe in the arms of your Viking lord as he scans the sea. The other five ships are spread across the waves. Each one is rising and falling with its own rhythm.
He sets you down gently but not as gently as before. You look in his eyes and see fatigue and maybe pain. He speaks his first words to you almost through clenched teeth. The language is clear modern English, not the more guttural tongue that had been spoken till now. It was a simple command to remove his armor. Not quite an order. Not quite a request.
You hesitate. Are you a slave? Are you to be a plaything? Are you to be commanded in all things with no free will? Then he commands again…..remove my armor. You can tell he is losing patience. There is anger in his eyes. The gentle looks he had for you are gone. He mumbles please so that only you can hear. He drops his heavy shield and drops his sword belt.
You are stubborn and proud but there is something compelling about this man. You realize he would not command if it were not needed. With a slight bow, you rise up, your blanket drops. You light shift flutters with the wind. It softly outlines the soft curves of your breasts and flows along the lines of your ass. You begin unfastening the heavy straps that hold the heavy jerkin. It drops to the deck with a metallic thud; the heavy rings striking one another. Then you see that your Viking is bleeding. He was injured in the fighting. You gently pull off the soft leather blouse. His chest is broad and hairy. It is adorned by a large silver medallion. You want to reach out. You want to touch it. Or do you want to touch the hair on the chest?
