South (Anglo-Saxon branch)

"I guess we'll take her south," Kuchug decided, "we're tight on funds and the Byzantines are in demand for fine women like she."

"But she's Christian," Metiga informed him, "they won't accept her as a ****."

"Well, they don't know that aside from her cross..." Kuchug walked over to Isa, ripped her necklace off, and stuck the long end of the cross into her pussy, making her gasp a little, "for all they know, she's ruddy and one of us."

"Well, now that the Varangians are subdued we ought to disperse. I'll take the prisoners."

"Very well," Kuchug decreed, "set off under the cover of darkness."

To that, Metiga rounded up Isa and the two prisoners. They were two men who were as collared, cuffed, and naked as Isa. Much to Isa's delight, one of them was Magnus, and the two smiled at each other as they were loaded onto the boat.

Despite the two's best efforts, Metiga made sure that nothing happened between the lovebirds. By the time day broke, the boat had crossed the Black Sea and entered into Constantinople, and Magnus and Isa gave each other one last longing look as the girl and man were separated and brought to different **** markets.

Isa stood in the rising Mediterranean sun, waiting patiently as **** purchasers from all walks of life brushed past her. She feared what seemed to be her inevitable fate, no matter who would end up buying her, and felt both the cross still sticking out of her tight pussy and the sun baking her pale skin and almost starting to burn it.

Eventually a lightly-tanned man with white hair spotted Isa from the corner of his eye and darted over, looking her up and down. Thinking she had found a pervert, she was taken aback when the man asked her "donsk?"

Relieved at finding a possible fellow northerner, and not wishing to clarify her exact origins, she simply replied "j-ja..."

The man's grin got toothier as he simply said "Anglish," as Isa's heart fell.

Back home, king Sweyn Forkbeard had launched a bitter incursion against the English king Ethelred, and the fighting was still ongoing when Isa embarked on her fateful voyage to the Black Sea.

"Edmund," the man pointed at himself, "thu?" he pointed at Isa in broken Anglo-Norse.

"Isa."

The man kept smiling and waved down the nearest slaveholder, offering to pay the full price of 300 ducats for the girl.

"Crist... cristin...." Isa tried to explain her adherence to the new God to everyone, "ik am cristin."