Hello all,

As I'm sure you all now know, I have decided to completely re-write The Will of the Gods. The characters of House Dagny were a combination of many characters I have developed over the years and were incredibly vivid in my imagination – particularly Nala's character who was derived from Tazneem, the protagonist in my (now deleted) Game of Thrones fanfiction. Unfortunately, when I decided to post the original story, I had no fixed plot in mind and never re-read or edited my chapters. Most of the time I would bash out a few thousand words at 3am and post it without reading it back. Ultimately this led to a story that didn't do my original characters justice and one that I wasn't proud of.

Although I am sure some of you will not believe me, let me state this clearly – the negative reviews that I received both over private messages and in the comments, have no bearing on the decision to overhaul this story. Frankly I won't waste even a minute of my time responding to anonymous internet trolls. That being said, constructive criticism is always appreciated, and I am deeply, deeply thankful for everyone who voiced encouragement/feedback for the original version of this story.

The plot and the characters may have altered but the premise remains the same. I really hope you will all enjoy the new-and-improved The Will of the Gods and please feel free to review, I love hearing your thoughts on my chapters.

-E.

Chapter I

Brontide – "The low and rumbling sound of distant thunder"

Origin: English

Ragnar Lothbrok was dead.

The gates of Valhalla had opened, and the Gods had reached out and raked the earth with their fingertips. The message of the Valkyries had been carried to every corner of Scandinavia; come to Kattegat, avenge our most famous King. And so, the warriors came. Every influential family, all the Kings, all the Jarls from Norway, Sweden and even Denmark poured themselves into the port of Kattegat and waited to claim their place in the sagas. Day after day and week after week, they continued to seep in until the growing town limits were stretched to breaking point. Kattegat was far too small for all these large names and these large egos; tensions were running high and factionalism ran rampant. For the poorer citizens, life became worse and anger began to grow. While the increasingly aggressive indigenous rat population swelled to the size of small cats, hungry families struggled to keep up with rising food prices. People were turfed unceremoniously from their homes to make room for the important visitors, and every day more citizens arrived at Lagertha's door looking for aid. Worse still, it seemed Queen Lagertha had to constantly pass judgement on some case or another; Jarls from rival clans were fighting indiscriminately, a shieldmaiden had been stabbed after rejecting a nobleman's advances, everywhere was plunged into drunken lawlessness. For the time being, the Queen had managed to maintain her authority, her word was still respected but whispers and chatter was spreading through the lower ranks. They said that Lagertha's strength lay simply in the power of her son, Bjorn Ironside, and that when he left for England she would be all alone and unprotected. It was dangerous talk and Lagertha knew it. Perception was king and if people perceived her as weak, that was how she would be treated. It could not be tolerated. So, the morning that yellow and blue sails appeared on the horizon, Lagertha felt a strange combination of anxiety and relief.

If Kattegat was the flock of sheep, then House Dagny of Sweden was the hungry wolf.

"What took you so long?"

"Were you chasing that potato seller's daughter again?" Sigurd swallowed a mouthful of bread and soup-soaked vegetables and wiped his lips roughly with the edge of his tunic sleeve. He grinned teasingly. "She's never going to fuck you, you know brother."

Hvitserk shoved the door to their cottage shut with his hip, juggling multiple wine casks from the marketplace in his arms. He dumped them on the table, flung himself down and slopped a ladle of steaming rabbit stew into his bowl. The scent of Margrethe's freshly baked sourdough loaf wafted into his nostrils and his belly grumbled. Margrethe was a real treat in bed but Hvitserk would happily trade in the chance of more sex for an unlimited supply of her bread. With Aslaug's death and Lagertha's ascension to the throne of Kattegat, the sons of Ragnar were removed from their childhood home and forced to take up residence in a new part of town. Too lazy and distracted to prevent their home descending into squalid disrepair, the boys had purchased a quiet, dark-haired female slave to provide the care they were accustomed to. As Hvitserk scarfed down the stew, red-hot liquid burning his tongue, he savoured the improvement. Sigurd's cooking had been truly terrible.

"Look at his teeth." Ubbe chuckled, sloping a fragrant red into his brothers' waiting cups. "How much wine did you drink, brother?"

"I like to try before I buy." Hvitserk flashed his wine-stained teeth in a cheeky smile before shoving another spoonful into his mouth greedily. "I saw the sails. They're here."

"Who?"

"House Dagny."

"What?"

"House Dagny." He had the look of little puppy with those big brown eyes of his, all playful and full of excitement. "I saw twenty or so boats, but people at the port said there are more on the way."

"How many more?"

"People said fifty. They're presenting themselves to Lagertha tonight."

"To that usurping bitch, why?" It was the first time Ivar had spoken. Ordinarily he would avoid unnecessary conversation with his brothers; often all they spoke about was women, predominantly that traitorous slut, the slave Margrethe. Ivar's skin itched at the thought of her; his vinegar soul wriggling uncomfortably. She was just a worthless slave after all, he could strangle her brutally in the dead of night and no one would care except his brothers. It wouldn't be difficult to convince them that it was an accident. But Lagertha…the tyrant whore who had slaughtered his mother while her back was turned and desecrated his father's memory by taking his throne. Each time he saw Ragnar's raven banner flags replaced by her blue and black insignia in the throne-room, it made his stomach churn with rage. Ivar's fists curled closed atop the wooden table, crushing the chunk of bread in his hand into a shower of crumbs. He tried to imagine it was Lagertha's beating heart between his fingers.

"As much as you loathe it, brother, Lagertha is Queen of Kattegat. It is a mark of respect."

"People are saying his wife is very beautiful. Maybe he's come just to show her off."

"Shut up," For perhaps the first time, Sigurd ignored the thought of a pretty woman and chimed in with something that sounded almost intelligent. Ivar raised an eyebrow at the rarity of the occasion. "King Brodir isn't here to parade his wife around the throne-room, Hvitserk. If Lagertha had a sensible thought in her head, she would show them a mark of respect."

"What do you mean?"

"King Brodir is the King of all Sweden and his army outnumbers Lagertha's twelve-to-one, if she was clever she would make an ally of him and quickly."

In truth House Dagny's army outnumbered Lagertha's three-hundred-to-one. They had been the controlling family in Sweden for two generations and thanks to a complex mix of political marriages, gifted children and a brutal regime, they would hold on to that title for many generations to come. House Dagny's rise to true power began with the marriage of Brodir's grandparents, Scylding and Olga, and the consolidation of two Swedish clans which had been at war for decades. They were blessed with five strong sons who continued on in their parent's stead; breaking apart the remaining kingdoms and bringing them to heel beneath the Dagny name. King Brodir was the first monarch to rule over a unified Sweden and eventually that title would pass to one of his children or nephews. In truth Brodir, although a tyrant, had ensured that House Dagny would be the reigning force in Sweden far, far longer than any of their competitors would care to admit. Why? Their strength was that of the wolf pack; a wolf alone is vulnerable, but as part of the pack, they were indestructible. Family was key and King Brodir knew that as his children married into influential families, their position would only strengthen. House Dagny would forever live by those words; family first, the world after.

An ally. Ivar's thoughts climbed over themselves desperate to heard. He drank from his cup as he contemplated the situation, but before he could speak Ubbe beat him to it; he was so committed to becoming the voice of reason, the sensible big brother. In Ivar's humble, not-so-humble, opinion Ubbe didn't fit that role as perfectly as he might imagine. "They would be a powerful ally." He rubbed his beard as he thought about it. "Do you think its odd that King Brodir has brought such a big force with him?"

"Why do you say that?" Hvitserk was a step behind. He had downed a few cups of wine and the alcohol had gone to his head. Ivar rolled his eyes. Ragnar's ingenuity clearly hadn't been equally shared throughout his progeny.

"No," Sigurd replied. "The entire world has gathered in Kattegat. If he came to cement alliances with the rest of Scandinavia, this is his opportunity to show strength."

"They came to avenge Ragnar. King Brodir was one of his oldest friends, they fought in Paris together."

"Do not so foolish, Hvitserk." Ubbe muttered. "No one has comesolely to avenge Ragnar, there is always a selfish reason." He shrugged lightly. "Not that it matters as long as we get our army."

"It does matter," Ivar snapped. "If Brodir has brought his full strength to Kattegat then he might not be looking for alliances at all, he might be looking for weaknesses before House Dagny expand their territory into the rest of Scandinavia." He fiddled with his wooden spoon distractedly, scratching it's end against the table top.

"Lagertha has plenty of weaknesses," Sigurd shrugged. "Look at Kattegat's defences. If House Dagny wanted to, they could sail into the port and take control within the day."

"Do you think they would?"

"Who can say." Ubbe commented as he uncorked another cask of wine, Hvitserk had finished the first much more quickly than they had anticipated. The eldest son of Ragnar suspected his little brother had snuck more than a few sips on his way home from the marketplace. "It might be to our advantage anyway. Ivar's desperate to see Lagertha de-throned and the next king of Kattegat would surely be one of us."

"Depends on King Harald, his fat little fingers have been reaching for that title longer than I can remember."

"He has children, doesn't he?" Hvitserk murmured more to himself than the others, slugging more wine into his cup clumsily. When he drank crimson wine trickled down his pale tunic. "He's more likely to be our ally than Lagertha's."

Ubbe shook his head impatiently. "Harald doesn't have children."

"No," Hvitserk hiccupped. "Brodir."

Ivar glanced up. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I said he's more likely to be our ally. Brodir has five children and they're all too young for Lagertha." Hvitserk's eyes were blurry and his words were slightly slurred, but his point was sound.

"Hvitserk," Ubbe leaned his elbows on the table, a thoughtful look suddenly returning to his face. "You're right. He might be looking for marriages."

"So?"

Ivar and Ubbe locked eyes in sudden recognition. "If Brodir has brought most of his strength to Kattegat, perhaps he's trying to make Sweden seem more secure than it really is."

"Rumours would spread if he came with only a small force. It would look as if House Dagny was losing control and their armies were needed back in Sweden."

"There must be something brewing and he's looking for outside support. A marriage is the most permanent way of securing that."

"So, the question is, who will they choose?"

The throne-room was quiet except for the rhythmic clacking of Lagertha's fingernails against the carved surface of her chair arm. A sense of anticipation twisted through the room like bonfire smoke and those that had gathered waited in silence. Astrid's fingers curled and uncurled around the hilt of her broadsword. She had sharpened the blade that very morning. The sight of yellow and blue sails on the horizon made her heart rattle in her chest and something about the scrape, scrape, scrape of the whetstone had soothed her nerves.

"Its rude of them to make you wait."

Lagertha didn't look in Astrid's direction, just continued rapping her nails as she concentrated. "It's better to have House Dagny as a friend than an enemy. We must show them respect."

"If you say so."

"I do." The conversation ended. Today of all days, Lagertha would not stand for Astrid's insolence.

At that moment the large doors to the throne-room swung open, the wooden planks creaking with age, and House Dagny made their entrance. "Queen Lagertha," King Brodir's voice boomed across the room like the sudden appearance of thunderclouds. "It is a great privilege to stand before you." He reached the foot of the dais and smiled insincerely up at her. Brodir was an imposing man; tall and corded with layers of aging muscle, salt-and-pepper strands scattered throughout his braids. She didn't like the crinkled way he was watching her, analysing her with those glinting snake-like eyes of his. "People speak of your beauty, but they do not do you justice."

"We are happy to receive you, King Brodir. House Dagny was always a good friend to Ragnar."

"Yes, a fine man. Those in Valhalla are truly blessed." King Brodir gestured to his surrounding family. "I must introduce my children; my eldest Calder and his wife Ingrid the Black, Hallad, and my twins Varin and Gudrik." Lagertha cast her eyes over the boys carefully. They were all tall and stocky and tattooed, with the darkest hair she had ever seen. Brodir had been fortunate to have bred such strapping children. The youngest boys seemed a little less intimidating, perhaps Lagertha detected a hint of mischievousness in them that clearly wasn't present in their father. As an afterthought Brodir indicated the silvery women at his side. "And this is my wife, Sibbe, a princess of Denmark." Sibbe dipped her head respectfully in the Queen's direction. Young, was all Lagertha could think, far too young. "Of course, the rest of my family will be joining us soon. I have left them to supervise the movement of our remaining boats."

"Welcome." Lagertha wasn't sure what to say. Gods, the Dagny clan have unnatural eyes. She could feel all those sets of far-too-large, far-too-dark, far-too-reflective eyes crawling over her skin like ants. Fighting the urge to itch, Lagertha linked her fingers together nonchalantly.

"We brought these gifts," Brodir gestured to the barrels and crates carried by some of his warriors. "To show our respect. Of course, we could have brought Kattegat's beautiful queen some sort of trinket, but we imagined you would appreciate these crops more than precious stones."

The warriors carried the cargo to the foot of Lagertha's dais, opened them and displayed large piles of potatoes, salted-pork, carrots and turnips. There were bundles of maize and wooden kegs of dark ale. It was a generous offer, one which could feed many of Kattegat's most needy citizens for weeks, but one which made Lagertha bristle. House Dagny clearly doubted the Queen's ability to protect and care for her subjects. Perhaps the insinuation stung because Lagertha had been failing her most vulnerable recently. She didn't like thinking about that. "Thank you." Her shieldmaidens stacked the crates carefully at the back of the throne-room without hesitation.

"Kattegat has changed," Calder remarked, almost pleasantly. "Much larger now than I remember it."

"Yes, the past years have been very kind. Kattegat is now the largest trading centre in the region."

"And yet your defences are so weak," Hallad mused. His eyes flicked over the shieldmaidens surrounding the dais. "You should reinforce the security of your port."

"Kattegat's defences are not yet fully constructed." Astrid said a little more harshly than she intended, and the boy raised an amused eyebrow at the reaction. He inclined his head politely by way of apology.

"Varin and I are responsible for Sweden's largest coastal kingdoms," Gudrik informed her. "The defences we had built are extremely robust."

His twin continued. "We will send one of our architects to assist you, if you require it."

"That is not necessary." Lagertha didn't like the way they were looking at her, the way they were analysing the warriors present in her throne-room. There was a sense of self-assurance in the way they spoke which irked Lagertha deeply; so arrogant, so charismatic. She knew that House Dagny were probing for weaknesses, looking for a hole in the wall that they might one day climb through, but their sincerity was so well rehearsed it was clear why so many had fallen for it in the past. Either way, taking the help they offered was unwise. If Lagertha indeed used Dagny architects to rebuild Kattegat's defences, she was essentially drawing them a map into her city.

"Regardless, the offer stands."

Lagertha swallowed back the brewing anger and changed the subject. "Have you been offered appropriate accommodation?"

"We have, your citizens have been most welcoming. I was surprised there was any room left for us, Kattegat must be almost full." Brodir replied jovially. "Are we waiting on the arrival of further forces?"

"The Great Army is growing daily, my son Bjorn Ironside estimates an additional thirty boats from our Norwegian friends are yet to dock."

"Ahh, yes I remember Ragnar's first son." Brodir flashed his crooked teeth. It almost seemed genuine. "What a strong young lad, I look forward to our reunion."

"I am sure he shares that feeling." I'm sure he doesn't.

"I have heard that leadership of our Great Army will be shared equally by all of Ragnar's sons."

"That is true."

"An interesting approach." Calder muttered in his wife's ear, and then to Lagertha. "We look forward to meeting them. If they are anything like their father, we are in safe hands."

"I agree."

"How many warriors has House Dagny contributed?" Astrid cut in roughly. It was clear she had not taken to the Swedes very well. Brodir cocked his head a little as he surveyed her. His gaze, though not as dark as his childrens', was unnerving; Lagertha equated it to the feeling of a bug beneath a piece of glass, as if you could be set ablaze at any moment. To her credit, Astrid managed to maintain her composure.

"In all…seventy or so boats and warriors to fill them." Varin told her.

"My shieldmaidens will arrive within the fortnight if the weather is favourable." Ingrid the Black spoke for the first time. Her voice had a sort of scratchy quality to it that was oddly appealing. Lagertha had heard of her of course. Ingrid had been a famous shieldmaiden in her own right before she had married Calder. After joining the Swedish royal family, she had developed an elite all-female fighting unit, often used as House Dagny personal security and as the official interrogators, un-official torturers, of prisoners. When it came to stamping out political dissent, they were widely considered to be some of the most violent warriors in Sweden. The queen hadn't expected her to be quite so attractive though, or that since her title was 'Ingrid the Black' that her hair would the colour of freshly spilled blood. It must be meant ironically, like Halfdan's title was. Idly, Lagertha wondered what their children must look like; such bright red hair mixed with such potent black. "My second in command admires you greatly, Queen Lagertha. I know she would be most privileged to meet you."

"When she arrives, you may present her to me."

King Brodir continued. "A further force is following a few days behind."

"Why is that?"

"They wished to visit the Temple of Uppsalla on their way here."

Lagertha's heartbeat seemed to slow and her skin cooled all over; she could hear the rushing of her pulse in her ears like the tides of the ocean. King Brodir's lips quirked into a crooked little smile as if he could sense the icy anxiety began to pool in the pit of Lagertha's stomach. Sly as a snake that one. "My daughter is on her way." Almost like distant thunder rolling through the hills, his words reverberated around the throne-room. They echoed off the wooden ceiling beams, shivered over Lagertha's skin. The name that the Seer had whispered in Lagertha's ear, the name that had been muttered in the shadows, the religious faction which had haunted her dreams. The cult which would be her undoing. Our undoing.

"The Ullacs are coming to Kattegat."

All across Kattegat that night, conversations of the same nature were occurring. The moon hung heavy in the sky like a watchful father and political advancement was the topic at every influential dinner table. The giants of Viking society were making plans, after all it made sense to identify future alliances or enemies while the entire world was gathered in one place.

"You should have seen them, Bjorn." Lagertha and her son were eating supper alone in the royal residence. The Queen sipped her wine moodily, staring at the flames crackling in the fire grate. "You should have heard what they were saying."

"I can imagine." Bjorn Ironside didn't look up, just chewed a piece of meat thoughtfully. "Brodir is notoriously arrogant."

Lagertha settled her elbows on the table and watched her only child, now not a child, as he ate. He was such a strong, handsome man. "They are dangerous."

"Yes, they are."

"In time, Brodir may turn his eyes on Kattegat. We control a valuable trading point. If House Dagny attacked, we would not be able to prevent them."

Bjorn leaned back in his chair and drank from his cup. The cogs in his mind turning. "Then what would you have us do?"

"We must form an alliance."

"A trading deal could work."

"No," Lagertha continued. She interlinked her fingers, almost hesitantly. "Trade can be dissolved, this must be permanent. It must be a marriage."

"We have no one to offer. Brodir is already married."

"I was not suggesting myself."

"Mother, no."

"He has a daughter, unmarried and young."

"No," Bjorn snapped, pointing his finger at the Queen. "Do not even suggest it. I will not disregard the mother of my children, I won't disregard Torvi."

"We have limited choice – other than her, he has only sons or nephews and you have no sisters."

A sharp stab of pain buried itself in her chest and Lagertha chastised herself for not thinking of her fallen daughter more often. She tried to calculate how many years it had been since Gyda had died. The Queen's mind strained trying to form the picture of her daughter's face but it wouldn't appear. Gyda's features were murky, as if Lagertha had opened her eyes under water. What kind of mother forgot her own child? Her beautiful little girl. Gyda had been Ragnar's only daughter and Lagertha suddenly wondered if he too had forgotten her when his new sons were born. It felt like an eternity since they had lived as simple farmers, Bjorn and Gyda running around in the fields, Ragnar smoking his pipe by the campfire. A deep, aching longing raked through her body as she thought about it. They should have stayed at the farm; their whole lives would have played out differently if they had just stayed at the farm

A slave bent forward to refill her wine cup and suddenly the hollowness she felt seemed to ebb away. If they had stayed at the farm Lagertha wouldn't be sitting in that throne-room. She would not have an army of shieldmaidens, she would not be Queen of Kattegat. The most famous woman in Norway straightened her shoulders in satisfaction. Lagertha was of strong character and the Gods had obliged her with plenty of battles. She decided that she could handle House Dagny. The sound of Bjorn's firm rebuttal drew her from her meandering thoughts.

"Stop this talk." Lagertha may be queen of Kattegat but Bjorn was the eldest son of Ragnar and commander of the Great Heathen Army, he would not be dictated to. Especially when it came to marriage. He loved Torvi and she had given him many children, but he was unwilling to marry even her. He refused to bind himself to a complete stranger. "I will not marry Brodir's daughter. The alliance must be based on trade."

Lagertha slapped her hand on the table in anger. "Another will marry her, and we will all be in danger. Would you care to see King Harald ruling Kattegat?"

"Of course not. Who says Harald would be offered her hand at all?"

"He is the second most influential ruler in Norway."

"And Scandinavia is a large place. Brodir married Danish royalty, who is to say that his daughter will not do the same."

"That is precisely my point, Bjorn." Lagertha was reaching the end of her patience. She gestured to a slave and her cup was refilled swiftly. "With Sweden and Denmark united, our position would be infinitely more precarious."

"I'll not continue to discuss this foolishness." Bjorn drained his cup and stood from the table. His enormous frame nearly blocked out the light from the fire. "Brodir has sons, if you are so desperate for a marriage alliance, try your luck with one of them. Goodnight, Lagertha." Then he swept from the room.

"I thought that was quite beneficial." Calder remarked.

The younger generation of House Dagny were gathered beside the fire grate in comfortable chairs, sipping wine. In the jumping light, they looked almost like shadows, all angles and glowing eyes.

Varin scoffed loudly. "That much was clear."

The boys glanced teasingly at each other and, as was their custom, his twin continued. "You should learn the art of subtlety, brother."

"What are you saying, runt?"

Gudrik cracked a wolfish smile at the insult. "You were almost salivating."

"Fuck off."

"In fairness, Calder, you were practically dismantling her throne with your eyes." Hallad confirmed, his tone indicating amusement.

"As if I would be interested in ruling this shit hole." Calder muttered. "Have you looked around? Kattegat's rats are larger than its children."

"I would have thought you'd like the company of rodents, brother."

"Shut up." Calder tossed an empty wine cup in his younger brother's direction. It was almost playful, almost.

In truth the oldest Dagny boy was the least likable of the brothers. Perhaps that was why he was favoured by King Brodir; they shared so many of the same unpleasant traits. Calder was cold and ambitious, he lacked the affable mischievousness of the twins or Hallad's reasonable nature. He was quick to anger and, without his wife Ingrid's rationality, would have fallen into plenty of political pot-holes. The underlying bitterness he felt towards his brothers and sister was poorly disguised. He pretended it was disappointment, that he disapproved of them because they did not share his devout and unreserved loyalty to House Dagny, but that was a lie. Frankly they had grown up too many years apart; while Hallad and the twins and their sister had moulded into each other, grown together like branches of an intertwined tree, Calder had become a man in the long shadow of his father. His early years had been lonely and when he saw the others laughing and joking and playing together, that loneliness had transformed into bitter jealousy. Calder had spent his life attempting to equal his father, but every day that his younger siblings became more accomplished and influential, he fell further in King Brodir's regard. It infuriated him.

"Enough of this foolishness."

"Father." The boys stood up respectfully and did not return to their positions until the King had seated himself. A slave poured Brodir a cup of expensive red wine and the man relaxed into his chair.

"So," He began. "Let us speak of Dagny business. Hallad, report."

The second oldest shifted. Finding yourself under the King Brodir's spotlight was never a comfortable experience. "I investigated the rumours of dissent in the northern foothills and it was more developed than we had expected. A small faction of my men took control of the village, discovered the perpetrators and executed them in the square. During interrogation we found connections with several other small villages." Hallad scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Father, these rebellions are increasing in size."

"I am aware of that. What are you doing to combat them?"

"While we are in England, I have deployed cousin Otkell to our outpost at the base of the mountains and increased the warrior numbers in the effected villages."

Brodir rubbed his beard. "Why Otkell?"

"His sons are getting to a good age, I thought this would be an opportune moment for them to learn how Dagny business is handled."

"Prudent. Varin, Gudrik; speak."

"The coastal towns and the ports have been reinforced. We increased security checks on incoming boats and built a beacon line between the largest fjord and our inland bases. If an attack were to come, additional warriors would arrive swiftly."

"We left only the most loyal Dagny warriors in positions of strength and everyone is on high alert." Varin continued. Calder glared at his brothers, they were becoming far too intelligent for his liking.

"That is acceptable." Was his only answer. King Brodir did not give compliments and his sons had stopped seeking them years ago. He changed the subject. "While we are with the Great Army we must be vigilant for possible allies. When we return to Sweden I expect you all to be married and married usefully."

There was a small, pregnant pause before Gudrik asked. "When will she come?"

"There was a raven waiting when we docked, with good weather Ullac sails will broach the horizon in two days."

Calder splintered the tension, almost gleefully. He had little patience for his sister's rebellious ways, he looked forward to seeing her married. With any luck it would be to someone she despised. "Who have you chosen for her?"

"I have not made a final selection yet, boy." Boy. The word stung Calder's insides. "It is a difficult decision and one we must make intelligently. There are battle lines forming, I can smell it in the air, feel it in my bones like an ache. One day soon the war for Kattegat will come and we must choose a side."

"The choice is between Lagertha and Harald Finehair," Hallad shrugged. "I would support neither."

"Thankfully the choice is not yours to make." Brodir snapped. "We will bide our time and select the most beneficial alliance when it is offered."

Varin dared to ask what they were all thinking. "What if she refuses?"

"I am her King, she will obey me."

"Father," Gudrik started cautiously. "That may be true…but you know our sister cannot be compelled into something she does not support."

"Well, I have had my fill of her insolence." The King rapped his fingers against the chair-arm, with that deadly calculating look in his eyes that his children all feared. "It is time your sister came to understand the truth of our clan. Dagny loyalty must come before anything else."

Unsaid words hung heavy in the air like incense, like gathering storm clouds, like thunder rolling over far-away hills. For their sister, no loyalty would come before the will of the Gods.