Nausea gripped her as the reality of their situation finally took its hold. The morning had barely begun as the men and shield-maidens readied around camp, waking her from their noise of banging swords and shields. Ubbe had already departed from their bed, she noticed, reaching over for him but came to reach at air. Another burst of nausea flooded her. He couldn't go into battle without seeing her first.

Lhyrie had decided to stay back with a handful of various craftsmen and cooks to wait for the signal that the city was secure. Part of her was torn by that decision. But what use is a shield-maiden who couldn't strike down in battle. Not that she couldn't, she would if her life was threatened. But just as the battle before Wessex, her heart wouldn't justify taking the lives of men who had no real battle to fight, no real battle with her.

"How blue are my eyes?"

"As dark as your soul, brother," she heard Hvitserk say beyond the tent.

Ubbe must be near then if his brothers were. She cautiously stood, attempting to keep the new occurrence of nausea she felt away, and began packing away the few items she littered about the tent. When they gave the signal, she wanted to be one of the first through the gates.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice called behind her, making her jolt in surprise. "It's about time," he teased.

"I didn't want to waste my energy," she said to Ubbe, not looking up from rolling a blanket and putting it in a crate.

Ubbe came behind her and circled his arms around her waist, nuzzling her hair off her shoulder to place his head. He was warm from the sun.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to charge the gates? Climb up with me, see the view."

"And if I die in battle, how could you keep fighting?"

"That would keep me fighting," he said, planting a cool kiss on her shoulder. "But Odin would not do that to me."

"We have been far too lucky so far, Ubbe. I do not wish it to run out."

"Just like my ear," he teased.

"Oh, don't bring that up again," she begged, turning to face him. "Or I might have to join you just to shoot another arrow at you," she said with a smile.

"Everyday until we are old and forgetful, I will mention that."

"You should have made the arrow into an earring for a fun anecdote." Something in his blue eyes lit up. "No, no. Please no," she begged. "I wouldn't hear the last of it."

"I won't do that, minn iss," he promised her, pulling her into a kiss. "But you can keep begging for me," he told her, sliding his hands down her body. Clearly he wasn't planning on conserving any extra energy this morning.

Too soon after, a low horn blew around the camp, and more noise stirred around them. Ubbe groaned in his spot and squeezed her hand tight.

"It's time," he said, pulling on his armor. He had put a new coil in his hair, Lhyrie noticed. "Find me as soon as we give the signal," he told her, tightening one of his straps.

"I will the first one through," she promised.

"Keep your sword and bow on you," he said, grabbing his shield. "And your shield. We don't know which way they will flee the city. If they try to attack your group, you need to protect yourself."

"I know, Ubbe."

"I should leave Leif here." He looked distant as he spoke. She rose to his side and stroked his arm. It pulled his attention back to her in the tent.

"Leif is one of your best," she told him, adjusting his leather. "You need him more than we do. I can protect the women that stay back."

Ubbe crouched slightly to look at her without her straining her head up to him. She smiled slightly to herself; she loved when he did that. "I love you."

She ran a hand down his face and nestled it into his beard. "I love you too." He brought his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, breathing in deep. Another horn blew in camp.

"Sjöfn," he cursed quietly. He pulled her into another deep kiss, and she thought he was going to skip the ambush completely. "I must go," he said after finally breaking apart.

"I'll meet with you soon," she promised as he turned away to leave.

"If not here, then in Valhalla."

"Do not say that, Ragnarsson," she warned. She started to feel the worry begin to build her in. Just before he reached the flap of the tent, he turned on his heel and swept her again into a long kiss. "Go before you miss it," she told him, cradling his face like he was to hers. It was as though he didn't want to forget her face. The worry boiled over.

When the flap of the tent finally settled and the army afoot, she crouched low in her place and cried first, and then she prayed Tyr. Ubbe's apprehension seemed strange to her. He was normally slightly too cocky for his talent. She prayed it wouldn't hinder him today.

"My lady?" A voice startled her from the entryway. It was a slave she didn't know the name of. "Do you need help packing?"

Lhyrie wiped a sleeve under her eyes and nodded. She realized she was still wearing her night clothes then. "Yes, thank you." She told the young woman as she stood from her spot. "What is your name again?"

"Berglijot," she answered shyly. What a fitting name for a slave: help.

"Yes, thank you," Lhyrie said again. "Let me just change my clothes."

"Oh, I can help you with that, my lady."

"I can manage, thank you. You could roll the bedding, I would appreciate that," Lhyrie told her, picking out a dress she didn't mind getting blood on out of her pile of clothes. She thought she changed quickly, but by the time she was through, Berglijot had already rolled her furs and hay padding and moved to arrange Ubbe's things. "Is most the camp packed?" Lhyrie asked her.

"Just a few stragglers," Berglijot said, but quickly pressed her lips together in embarrassment after saying it. Clearly, a slave shouldn't compare the leader of the army's wife to a straggler.

"It's alright," Lhyrie comforted her. "I had a late start this morning."

"I meant no disrespect, ma'am," she apologized.

"There is no need, Berglijot," Lhyrie told her. She wasn't accustomed to having slaves helping her. She didn't agree about keeping slaves, either. Lhyrie was about to ask her about her owner when the tent flap flipped open once more. Hakon was standing in the threshold. "Good morning, Hakon," Lhyrie called to him. "Are you here to help me pack as well?"

"Unfortunately, no, my friend," he answered. His tone made Lhyrie stop and turn to face him. "It seems that our army have made their way into the town." His pause made Lhyrie gulp in anticipation. That was a fast bombardment. "The fleeing townsfolk came upon a few of our horses, it seems." Her breath eased upon the news. Nothing of Ubbe, that was good. "Or they were scared off from the foot fall."

"Did the towns people come close? I heard nothing of a parade."

"They mainly fled west, it seems," Hakon said. "At least the first few of them. There are more fleeing as we speak."

She should be out in the camp to witness it, she thought. She is the closest thing the remaining camp have to a leader, now that the Ragnarsson were away. Berglijot was busy at work, filing her things away.

"Would you mind if I leave you here, Berglijot? To make sure the rest of the camp is settled?" Lhyrie asked her.

Berglijot looked slightly taken aback at the question directed to her. "Of course, my lady," she answered, bowing her head. "I will finish readying your things."

"Thank you," Lhyrie told her again. She quickly rose and nearly forgot her shield and sword as she walked out the tent with Hakon. She also made sure to throw her medical satchel over her head on the way out. "How have you been, Hakon?" She asked him. Unfortunately, she seemed to be ignoring everyone but her new husband lately.

"I've been staying busy. Trying to find new remedies in this new land," he told her, as they danced through the abandoned tents and crates of the camp. "I suppose congratulations are in order to you as well," he added with a smile.

"Thank you, my friend," she smiled toward him before nearly jumping over an odd shape on the ground. Startling her, it looked like a deformed baby laying on the ground. Hakon showed no panic at it and bent down to look further. It laid unmoving, and Lhyrie noticed it had green leaves and purple flowers poking out of the 'head'. Only a plant, she sighed in relief.

"It's strange," Hakon commented on it, flinging it over on the ground. "It looks as though it has legs tangled together for its roots."

"Where did it come from?" There was a set of bags nearby that were laying slightly open on their side. Perhaps it came from there. "And what is it?"

Hakon only laughed. "I'm not sure. I would love to find out."

"I think it belongs to whoever these are," Lhyrie motioned toward the bags. Looking at them longer, she recognized the luggage. They were Hvitserk's. What was he doing with a mystery plant?

"Well, I wouldn't want to steal it from the owner," Hakon said, kicking it to settle on the sack. "Even though I want to."

Lhyrie didn't tell him she thought they were Hvitserk's, instead making a mental note to talk to him about it later. She shook her head away from the thought and made toward the clearing in front of them. It seemed like most the remaining camp were nervously settled on its edge, eyes glued to the city of York barely noticeable on the horizon. Several people bowed their heads to her on her way through to the front, Hakon following close behind her. Digging her heels in the soft earth, she laid her shield down in front of her and set her eyes too on the city before them. The camp grew eerily quiet as the minutes, and then the hours passed by. Clouds covered the sun high in the sky and made her chill despite the warm day.

"Audun," Lhyrie called to man a few groups over. She waved him over to her side. "Do we have a scout closer to the city?" Audun was a good solider, but he lost his fighting arm and most of his sight years before Lhyrie was born. He helped the Ragnarssons strategize this attack.

"Yes, my lady," he answered.

"And they are to return to camp when the signal is lit, correct?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Could they have been attacked by the fleeing townsfolk? Who is out there?" She asked curiously.

"Ander, my son," he gulped.

Lhyrie pressed her lips together in slight guilt. "He will be riding back to us very soon," she reassured him. At least she hoped. The sun had to be at mid-day by now, she figured.

"Perhaps the beacon lighters wanted to have their fun," Hakon joked.

"What is that?" Lhyrie asked, pausing him in his joke. "Are those hooves?" She could hear the fierce stampede of a horse but couldn't see anything flying through the field before them. Just then, the image of a horse and rider dragging something behind them barreled into sight.

"That is not Ander," Audun said, looking slightly worried. Lhyrie was surprised he could see that far, but realized he might be referring to the gallop, as his eyes weren't looking toward the horse, but to the ground below his feet.

Lhyrie tightened the grip on her sword instinctually and sunk her feet in the soft earth to ready herself. She noticed Hakon and several others around her do that same. Regardless of whomever this was, they were ready. As they galloped closer, Lhyrie realized the horse was dragging a body. A body cloaked in white and orange or was that blood; she couldn't quite tell.

"Their priest!" The rider triumphantly yelled as he circled in front of the gathered group, pulling the man awkwardly behind him. The horse nearly missed stepping on him as they turned. Something was pouring out of the priest's mouth. It didn't look like blood or bile, she figured. But then again, she really didn't want to know what dehumanizing things her companions did to the poor man before his death.

"Is the city secure?" Hakon asked the question she couldn't quite form.

"It will be by the time we travel back there," the rider answered with a gleeful smile. He enjoyed the death too much.

"I will grab you a horse, Lhyrie," Hakon told her as he turned back toward the camp. Lhyrie turned her back on the rider and his cargo as well. The sight of the mangled priest wasn't sitting well with her and the nausea crept back in her throat.

Most of the camp was disassembled, she saw. It would be a slow barge for the camp to move without most of the men to carry the supplies. Maybe they would come back to help. She doubted it. The move would be up to the slaves.

She unstuck herself from her spot and went back to the place where her tent once stood. It was packaged neatly, with her chests and bags piled on top of it. She wished Berglijot was around to thank, but Lhyrie couldn't find her among the other slaves teetering about.

Grabbing a few lighter bags of her and Ubbe's things, she threw them over her shoulder. Lhyrie made her way back over toward Hvitserk's supplies. Kneeling down, she poked the strange roots of the plant. It was rough, like a turnip or carrot. Cautiously, she licked the end of it. She nearly gagged in sweetness at taste, but it made her tongue tingle like sour wine.

"Experimenting?" Hakon creeped up behind her with two horses.

"Just curious," Lhyrie said, putting the strange thing back into Hvitserk's bag. She debated taking it back to him just to get answers.

"Any thoughts?"

"It tastes acidic," she told him, fumbling to mount the horse with her extra baggage. "If I die on the ride to York, I'll let you know."

She survived the journey, but became incredibly thirsty, more so than she should have on the relatively short gallop to the main gates. Cheers were ringing out inside the city, with drunken singing even now echoing through the alleys. Men were still looting, but most were enveloped in drink already.

"Your eyes are dilated," Hakon commented, helping her down from her horse. He placed a finger to her wrist. "And your rate is up." His eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Do you feel anything from that strange plant?"

"Just thirsty," she told him, adjusting the luggage on her shoulder. She grabbed a glass from a solider who was swaying past her. She downed the glass in one motion. "Much better. So, where should we start?" She asked. After Hakon had mentioned something, she noticed her heart beating stronger than before. She also felt slightly giddy and anxious with excitement. "I'm low on supplies," she said, before waiting for his answer. "Do you think there is an apothecary here? What am I saying, look at a town this large, of course there is," she laughed.

"Do you want me to join you?" Hakon asked. She hadn't even realized she had started walking without him.

"No," she twirled to see him. "No, I will be fine. After all, the city is now Viking, yes?"

The inner city of York reminded her of the towns in Frankia she travelled to. Rows of buildings, shops and laborers on the city streets and their lodging above them. It was strange. The feeling she felt was closest to longing for the life she had in Frankia with her mother and stepfather. This could be that new beginning, she reminded herself. With Ubbe, here in York. She let her smile show through as she navigated the streets, peering into the near abandoned shops until she found what she was looking for.

This shop looked very much like her aunt's shop in Kattegat. Vials and baskets dotted the walls with a giant table untouched in the center of the narrow area. She set her bags down on it and began to organize for her supplies. To her surprise, Berglijot appeared in the doorway, out of breath.

"Berglijot, what a surprise!" Lhyrie exclaimed. "Thank you for organizing my things at camp."

"My pleasure, my lady," Berglijot huffed. "I've been instructed to find you by your husband."

"Could you do me another favor?" Lhyrie asked, completely ignoring her last comment as she was focusing on unraveling a bandage. "I need patients. Can you find anyone hurt and bring them back here?"

"Of course, my lady," she sputtered and stomped away from the threshold.

Within minutes, Berglijot had rounded up several patients for Lhyrie to heal and they waited not so patiently in her cramped area. Berglijot turned out to be a good helper, and wasn't squeamish to blood, helping her to hold areas together to stitch. Perhaps, it would be a good thing to keep her around, Lhyrie thought.

"Lhyrie!" Her name resonated through the streets. Looking up from the arm she was suturing, she motioned for Berglijot to look outside for who was yelling. She shrugged her shoulders as she turned in circles. Coming back inside, she resumed her work of cleaning a deep wound on a soldier's cheek.

Her name was called again, slightly closer to the shop, perhaps a street over. This time, she didn't look up from her task. Wrapping a cloth around the arm, she pulled it a little too tight, making the young man in front of her grimace as her name was called once more through the streets. Lhyrie huffed and stood quickly.

"Rest your arm best you can," she told him. "Otherwise it will re-open, and you will need more stitches."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Lhyrie!" Boomed outside.

"Excuse me." She pushed past the next man in line and poked her head out of the shop. Ubbe was marching down the street, covered in dried blood. She couldn't tell if his emotion was happy or aggravated to see her, but it seemed like a mixture as he came closer.

"Where were you?" He boomed, stomping just in front of her, clearly angry and out of breath. "I told you to find me," he snapped, taking a step forward. He would have stepped right through her if she hadn't taken a step back into the shop. Any giddiness she had felt from the mystery plant requited to a sobering dread.

The shop grew deadly quiet as Ubbe took another step forward, and her another step back. He was towering over her now, the cold look of the day's murders in his eyes. She was enveloped in his shadow. Her breath caught in her throat and it was one of the only times she had actually feared him.

"Anyone not dying," he boomed, eyes only focused on her, "Leave. Now."

Lhyrie desperately wanted to look away from him but kept her gaze sharp and head craned up to him. It took every muster of courage she had to do it. Secretly, she wished Berglijot would stay, but caught a glimpse of her blonde braid duck out the door before it slammed behind them.

"What were you thinking?" His voice was lower but still harsh once they were alone. His eyes still held the fierce look of what she now understood as concern, not anger, but it didn't soften her mood toward him. His hands came up to cradle the back of her head and she flinched not expecting the touch. He didn't move them. "You are never silent. What's wrong?" He asked softer.

Normally she would match him like a raging bull in anger, but the words didn't come. She had a hard time even forming them now. "I took a piece of Hvitserk's weird plant," she breathed almost at a whisper. She rubbed her forehead to try to shake away the residual feeling of it.

Ubbe cocked his eyebrows in silent question, then opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut. He puffed out his cheeks in confused frustration. "What?"

Lhyrie couldn't help but squeak out a laugh. "I didn't know what it was, and it fell out of his bag."

"So you ate a piece of it?" He stroked the side of her face and swept a piece of hair behind her ear. "Do I need to watch everything you put in your mouth?"

She hung her head in embarrassment with a laugh on her lips. "Curiosity got the best of me."

Ubbe smiled with her and placed his forehead to hers. "I clearly need to keep you with me at all times."

"I'm sorry to worry you, Ubbe," she told him, closing her eyes.

"I know a way for you to make it up to me," he whispered, taking another step forward so she backed against the center table of the room. He kissed her longingly and desperate, pressing every piece of himself into her. She could feel what he needed help with, and it made a warmth burn within her. Hopping onto the table, she wiggled her dress from under her and pulled him closer.

He broke apart, breathless, a grin on his face. "Not the way I had thought," he whispered, kissing her neck.

"What did you have in mind?" Lhyrie breathed, reaching for his waistband.

"I told you," he paused, his breath on her neck. "I need to watch what you put in your mouth." He trailed his tongue up her neck to her jawline, sending a shiver down her spine and making her blush. She suppressed a giggle as her fingers played with the edge of his trousers.

"We need to switch spots."

After spending the rest of the day wrapped together, Lhyrie decided the apothecary was now hers while they were going to be in York. She would need to put a great deal of work back into it to make it function, though. Their efforts were rough on the furniture as the day grew to dusk. At least she knew of something that tasted better than that plant.