The day was ending, night was coming and, through heavy gales, the cold air of winter burst between the planks of the great hall that once belonged to a great king on the island of Saeland, seething like a snake; like one of those who bit Ragnar Lothbrok, drawing him to his end. In this hall, did she sit, Lagertha, conqueror of Jelling, Jutland, Hedeby, Denmark and all the territories surrounding the Kattegat; on her chair she was sitting, that high queen who did not bear the title but held all its power; in this dark hall, lit by torches and braziers was she sitting, the aging Lagertha, with her wrinkled face, her wrinkled hands, used by a lifetime of holding a sword, of fighting and of plunging them into ground to farm. Here she was sitting, so desperately alone and cold in spite of the heavy fur wrapped around her shoulders. Here she was sitting and here, on that high seat, she listened to snakes betokening of downfall.

The doors opened and a young woman – younger than herself – with black hair and a line of khol drawn around her blue eyes came in, wearing the finest of aprons, the finest of brooches and the most fierce hairdo. Lagertha gave a weak smile.

"Astrid." she said with tenderness.

"Are you so short on money not to have guards?" Astrid asked with an obvious concern.

Lagertha nodded, gently smiling. "No, my sweet Astrid. I am not short on money. But am I not undefeated on the battlefield? Isn't my face spared from scars? I am Lagertha. I cannot be killed."

"That is what you want to prove, Lagertha. We all know your legend and we all know how great you are, but I am worried."

"Why would you be?"

"Power attracts power, and I fear for you. People may want to take what you conquered."

"Let them try. I will fill this hall with their vain attempts." Lagertha said, her hand on the pommel of her sword.

"This hall is too empty for you. It should be filled with songs, skalds and admirers. It should be like in the old sagas, where a sovereign's hall is filled with all his court and his people. It should be the same for you, if not more."

"This hall is old, Astrid; as old as myself. No one likes the old, they all prefer what is new." A bitterness could be heard in every words. "They are all in Kattegat now, that is, if they are not in faraway lands, so new and unknown."

"You could be in Kattegat." Astrid pointed out.

"No. Not this Winter. There are too much matters that presses on this side of the sea. For now, Bjorn is taking care of business I have in Kattegat and if he cannot, then, Torvi will do what I will tell her. She loves me, she trusts me. I have heard that he is forging an alliance with prince Rognvald of Vestfold, which is very good for business and warfare. We need allies faithful to our line and we need steel to protect ourselves from other claims."

"You told him to forge the alliance." Astrid said with half a smile.

Lagertha returned a mischievous grin. "I told Torvi and she told him."

"He never listens to her. He never listens to his wife."

"He believes only he has absolute knowledge. He believes his divine blood makes him Odin." Lagertha stood up. "He is my son. And I know him. Torvi merely gave him a suggestion and now he thinks it was his idea in the first place."

"Why didn't you tell him yourself, then?"

"A son, grown, does not listen to his mother. Men are prideful creatures, Astrid."

"Aren't you more?" said Astrid teasingly.

Lagertha gave another of her smiles. "Perhaps..."

"So Rognvald will marry, then. With whom?"

"Siggy, my grand-daughter. Bjorn's first daughter. She is coming of age and such is the fate of women from royal houses." Lagertha said. "But I have heard that she went missing. That is but a setback, but it is crucial to retrieve her; for alliance and for the sake of our dynasty."

"It cannot be a son of Aslaug to become king."

Lagertha nodded. "Bjorn will establish a dynasty through my blood, with a woman by my choosing, who would have been trained by me to become a competent warrior."

"But you are queen." Astrid stepped forward and climbed up the dais. "Are you not?"

"I am. But we all die, Astrid; and one day I will be gone. I want some part of myself to remain here, forever."

Astrid cupped Lagertha's face in her hands and gently caressed the corner of her eyes; kissed her temple and wrinkles. "Do not leave me so soon, Lagertha. I could not bear an existence knowing you are gone."

"Astrid, I..."

"You love Ragnar Lothbrok. After all those years you still love him. But I am here. I can bear being only third in your heart." said Astrid gently. "I will always be there for you. Always."

"And I am grateful."

Astrid gave a quick smile and stepped back, down on the floor, while Lagertha sat back on her high seat.

"What are the news, then?" asked the queen.

"A growing revolt had been stifled in Jutland."

"Earl Tostig must be rewarded, then." whispered Lagertha to herself.

"Hedeby is good, though your hall misses your presence, the earls you placed at the head of parcels of lands are building strongholds and they seem to all be thriving, the harbors are growing in size and are being walled to the water and it seems we are attracting new merchants each weeks. It is a good year Lagertha. And your grip on your empire seems to be strong."

"Good. And you, are you happy?"

"I rule Hedeby for you, high queen. What greater happiness than this?"

Lagertha smiled. "Will you stay for the night?"

"I must return to Hedeby, alas, but if you would have me, I could stay."

Lagertha, glanced at her sword and gave a smile. "No. That is fine, I understand pressing matters await you, far from this ancient hall. Your generation tends to be drawn by the new, and I do not want to keep you from yourself. Go, I trust you to rule in Hedeby and train shield-maidens. You are my greatest accomplishment, Astrid. I trained you well."

Astrid gave a sad look, imperceptible to Lagertha and with a last look at that woman who stopped looking at her, she walked out of the hall, and closed the doors behind her.

"I trained you well." the words echoed in Lagertha's mouth and with melancholy, she recalled that day she took Astrid under her wing and decided to train that orphaned girl, brought to her by an important and wealthy man from a land far south to Hedeby, a foster father who failed to marry her.

She recalled the constant admiration of the girl, the years spent to train her, like she would have trained Gyda had she had she spirit for war. She recalled those long nights Astrid spent in her bed, those long hot nights Astrid had proven she could be more and when Lagertha had tried to get rid of Ragnar's presence in her heart; then, this fated day when he came back and all she had built collapsed; and then, the tenderness she still felt towards the girl, although she knew it would never be enough to call it love. Would she love again? It seemed her heart had turned to stone in her heart. It seemed something inside of her died with Ragnar.

And that something gone, it left place for something else; and that something else killed and waged war to take something she doubted she ever wanted.

Revenge had been her shield in the affair; she had protected herself with it, from the townsfolk accusation of usurping the crown. They seemed to no longer love or admire her and it frightened her, especially since Ragnar had died. Now legends could die; now there was nothing divine about them and now it seemed gods could die. And this had been enough to trigger a thirst for blood. In order to prove her world had not changed, she had to kill; and she killed a woman claiming she was descended from the gods herself; and nothing was divine anymore; and Aslaug died a quick death; and Lagertha had behaved in a dishonorable way and she had tried to kill that memory; and Aslaug died; and Lagertha, by the loathsome act, proved her claims to be wrong and destroyed to the very essence of what she was.

She regretted killing Aslaug; one of her dearest friends, and perhaps the only woman who ever made her want to be more than what she was, no matter how great it was. But the madness and grief that followed the news of Ragnar's death had her way with her reason and in such a state, she became but a tool for jealousy and greed; and she decided to prove her might and legend by conquering a town she chose to leave, long ago; she took arms to prove, not to the others, but to herself, that the world she grew up in was still standing.

So what Ragnar once said was true, then. Power indeed corrupts the best; and instead of raising her yet powerful and thriving land into a strong and long lasting kingdom, she did what she loathed and killed a woman who managed to build her own success, not through blood and steel, but through gold. And now she drowned in a sea of remorse. But again, had she any choice in the affair?

One way or the other, she would have had to kill the queen or one of her sons. Bjorn was Ragnar's heir; his true heir; not the offspring of a woman appeared from who-knew-where. Bjorn had been raised by Ragnar and had been trained by him. He knew of strife and he knew of modest life.

Bjorn was Ragnar's son; in every sense of the word. He must be king, for people needed stability in those changing age. Had she not seized power in place of her son and for the sake of a dynasty, an election to appoint the next king would have been held after the former's death and it would have been Ubbe, this child behind the reason she divorced an earl who would become king, that would have been elected; for he was a fine man, modeled after Ragnar and who inherited his farmer spirit. Him or Sigurd, that boy who took after his mother, from his blood, to his eyes and name, for Lagertha knew, in spite of the fact that Bjorn had stayed in Kattegat precisely to earn the people's favor, that they were keener on favoring the sons of a woman who made them rich.

It seemed that steel was no longer power, but that it was held by those who possessed gold. And in this world, there no longer seemed to have a place for Lagerthas.

"Oh, Freya," mumbled the warlord. "And Frigg," she touched her empty womb. "I can carry children no longer. No longer will I give birth, not to the living at least. It seems, oh goddesses, that my time has come. It seems, that I can bring death over life, now that my youth has passed." she looked at the ceiling, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I want to bleed. I want to feel alive again. I want purpose again, and for life to regain its former sense."

But none answered, if not seething wind and changing times. The world was shifting, wriggling and stirring; tides turned, tables turned and luck turned. And if Lagertha wasn't in Kattegat, it was precisely because she wanted to avoid what she did and the consequences on her reputation. She had never been the kind to cower, but lately, it seemed she lost sense of who she was.

The world was changing, and she was changing too. Legends died, while others grew.

Solveig grinned widely as she saw the familiar coast of her childhood. She was home. At last, she was home. The small village gained only two long-houses and the market was slightly more crowded than usual, but that was about it for changes. After more than a year away, seeing her beloved land was for her a relief. Smoke grew from chimneys and soared in the cold, immaculate winter sky. A thin coat of snow was covering the ground and from the wind and the cold of the air, a snow-fall would soon follow. A light chatter welcomed the small ship and Solveig sighed with content, recognizing some of the voices, voices that had cradled her ever since she was born. And as always, she gave another sigh of grief at the absence of her parents' voices.

Siegfried gently put his hand around her shoulder. "Hey, at least, we are home." he said with a warm affection.

"Yes." And Solveig covered his hand with hers, glad that Siegfried and herself still thought about their parents, and sad also, because Siegfried had barely any memory of them.

The ship stopped between two wooden quays and Solveig immediately jumped out of it, happy not to feel the ship swaying on water anymore, while Siegfried stayed, unloading the ship and helping Einar to tidy it up.

Familiar faces welcomed her and some embraced her; girls she knew as children who now, carried their own, old friends, old training mates and old women she learned wisdom with, old men who sang sagas to her, mothers who never forgot to show her and her brother how much they cared about them, and old friends of their parents, proud to see that Siegfried was safe and home and proud to see that Solveig had done her task well. Their children were safe and that was what mattered.

But among all the familiar faces, Solveig was looking for one particularly. She turned to a woman about her age, carrying a baby in her arms.

"Frida," said Solveig. "Where is Thorunn?"

"In the mountains." answered the woman. "You can go and see her but Borghild will wan..."

Then, suddenly, an old woman made her way through the crowd and ran to Solveig. Her face seemed older, more emaciated, more wrinkled and more stern also. But the eyes of the old woman were filled with tenderness and concern; and relief could be seen in the corners of her mouth.

"Borghild." Solveig said with joy. "I have miss..."

"Yes, yes! I know. I have missed you too. Now look at me." she took her face in her hands with such a strength that Solveig, for a brief moment, thought she was dealing with Thor. "No bruises, that's good! Your teeth? Clean. You smell, though and you will take a bath, young lady. And by all the gods and spirits, look at you, you are so skinny! My child, you must eat! How will you protect our merchants if you are not well fed? Ah – Kids, nowadays! They never eat! Too busy to raid! Now, now... Your arms looks well. No broken bones, no twists, nothing. Good. And... Siegfried! Come here!"

Siegfried froze suddenly and looked around for an escape which made the whole village laugh.

"Come, my boy!" said the old one.

And he came, slowly, like a child who knew he was going to be yelled at, all red with shame. Borghild took his face in her hands the same way she had taken Solveig's, and inspected his every features.

"My, my, my..." she exclaimed. "Look at how you have grown my boy! Your shoulders looks so broad now, you are becoming a man! But look at how skinny your cheeks are! Siegfried, you have to eat! You two will come home and I will feed you. Adhils is expecting you and some soup is awaiting your mouths. Come, now."

"No. I need Siegfried to help me, Borghild! He is my apprentice and I..." Einar suddenly stopped in fright from the look Borghild was giving him; a dark look of anger from a woman who would not allow anyone to discuss her orders.

Einar gave a nervous smile "I guess, I'll have someone else help me, then."

Borghild nodded with authority and dragged Solveig and Siegfried with her, holding their wrists with a strong grip.

The house was the same as when they left it a year ago; a comfortable half-buried house, warmed by a central hearth, with beds on the sides, covered with furs, chests and cauldrons, and weapons and other fabrics, dried flowers hanging from the walls, a cat sleeping and purring next to a crackling fire and an unfinished work on a loom, which patterns were changed. The house they grew in for most of their life was still here, still the same, so welcoming and filled with peace. The village was still here, peaceful and curse-ridden. The village that became a big family after an attack barely grew and everyone could agree that it was for the best. And like the village, the house was small and those who lived in it could agree that it was for the best. Too big a house or too big a town could lead to greed and that was not something everyone here wanted.

Borghild poured some soup into two bowls and gave them to Solveig and Siegfried; and while they ate, Borghild prepared a tub in a corner of the house and prepared hot water on the fire while she talked to her kids, asking where they have been and if the weather had been merciful.

"Njord was kind to us and we hardly suffered Ran's anger on our way to Russland." said Siegfried. "But there was a day we barely moved forward because of an absence of wind or current. So we arrived later than scheduled in Hedeby and Einar made us stay there for a few more days because he wanted this stay to be fruitful. It was a rather hot summer, there, hotter than here, that's for sure. Once, we even bathed in a river in Russland. That was fun."

"Good, good." said Borghild. "How are the people there?"

"And how are their women?" asked Adhils who just entered the room, winking to the boy.

Siegfried blushed, as usual when it came to women. "Pretty." he mumbled. "Very pretty."

"Have you met any maiden you would wish to marry?" Borghild asked while Solveig blocked any laughter in her mouth with her two hands. "Solveig stop that, that's not elegant." she rebuked her. "Siegfried, my boy, you will have to think of marrying soon; you are almost in age and I believe many maidens would take pride in being your wife."

Siegfried was redder than the reddest of fabrics and looked everywhere he could to find a place to hide. Marrying? Yes, he once thought about it, but it always brought awkwardness on him and he hardly could hide how uneasy he was with women.

Solveig looked at him and gave a mocking smile. "He wants to marry Thorunn, I am sure of that!"

"Solveig!" Siegfried yelled, abruptly standing up.

"What? Isn't it true?"

"I... I... Hbgrflbju."

"You should marry too, Solveig. A young woman like you, a shield-maiden and a pretty woman, surely you'll catch the eye of a wealthy man." said Borghild.

Every sign of a smile died on Solveig's lips and she became as red as her brother which made him laugh. Marrying? Yes, maybe, when she was a child she would have loved the idea, but now, as an adult who saw more than her original world, she loathed it. The world was too big to stay in a long-house, being the wife of a man she did not know, breeding and giving him sons. The world was too big and too interesting to stay in her little village, so perfect and so good; and she had way too many scores to settle yet, and it seems being the apprentice of Thorunn betokened of wars to come. Marrying was a little girl's dreams and although she envied those women who married good men and lived their lives peacefully, she knew she wanted none of it.

"How was Kattegat? And all those cities you have been in?" asked Adhils as Borghild was fetching some soap Siegfried bought for her.

"Those big cities were marvelous!" exclaimed Solveig. "There were people dressed in a strange way, with cloak draped around them, with brown skin or narrow eyes; people with large pieces of silk wrapped around their waists; people with strange animals with two humps and covered with thick brown fur; people of our own but who wore our clothes differently; people wearing golden helmets and others wearing the most precious of fabrics and there were animals I have never seen. This did not feel like a journey to the land of the Rus, but rather a journey throughout a world I never knew."

"There was also this men who sang, remember?" said Siegfried. "Their song was so beautiful! It looked like a wolf howling, but it was delicate and so intriguing! I'd pay a heavy price for their lutes and music instruments. I cannot wait to return there! Or even travel to their homelands. I want to trade, now I am certain of it!"

"Good." said Adhils. "A man must always know his path in life not to get lost. Keep being Einar's apprentice, my boy, and I can guarantee you'll become a good trader. Although, I still must train you as long as I have some strength left. We do not want you to be killed by thieves."

"With your teachings, he will become strong." said Solveig.

"I hope so." he gave a grin. "Now, tell me about Kattegat. I have heard so much about it I am dying to know more about it."

"That cursed town." Solveig sighed. "A large city, thriving and prosperous where everyone seeks his neighbor's death and where snakes crawl on the ground to bite you better. Kattegat is a wonder of colors, but that's all it is. As for the rest, it is nothing but a dull town, painted with blood for decades where strife is no longer for survival but rather for wealth and power. That town was despicable and I do not know why anyone would want to live there, or even sit in that chair in that cold hall where wind always sweeps into. Kattegat isn't greater than our town, quite the opposite. You are not missing anything."

Adhils sighed and stroke his beard. The world was wide and yet, it held so many disappointment.

"Enough chit-chat you two! Solveig, into the tub! For the gods' sake you stink more than your brother! Men, out! Go train or something."

Adhils gave a smile and took Siegfried with him, grabbing two wooden swords in the process. He gave a tender kiss on Borghild's forehead and left the house.

For about an hour, Solveig stayed in the warm bath, while Borghild unbraided her hair and combed it. Solveig closed her eyes and let the old woman stroke her hair, massage her scalp and hum a song. She almost fell asleep. She rubbed a cloth on her skin to get rid of filth and once clean and ridden of bad smell, she dressed up in fresh clothes she deemed too small, having grown on the journey she just came back from. She was wearing a cream short dress, a pair of pants with boots lined with fur and a purple apron adorned with modest brooches, her red hair, braided in a way locks did not fall in front of her eyes.

She gave her thanks to Borghild and left the house to send her brother back in – and almost laughed at Siegfried's apparent fear of facing Borghild. Adhils looked at her and gave a proud smile.

"You really turned into a fine woman. Are you up to a little training session?" he asked.

Solveig returned the smile. "No, thank you. I have business to take care of into the woods."

"Thorunn?"

"Yes."

"Then bring her this" he said giving her a package containing clothes, bread and honey. "From Borghild and I."

"Thank you." said Solveig.

"Tell her she is welcome to stay in our house whenever she wants."

"That will be done. I'll see you tonight."

"Take your time." said Adhils. "I know how much you like being with her."

Solveig gave a weak smile and headed towards the woods surrounding the villages, up to the mountains where Thorunn's cabin was. Tied to her belt, a sword; those who dwelt into the woods still frightened her and each time she crossed the path of one, she saw the face of one of those monsters who killed her parents and raped her mother. She was ashamed to be afraid of such men, but in the matter, she had not been given any choice. Fear was fear and even the bravest knew it. Even Thorunn was familiar with its paralyzing effects. How would she have got a scar otherwise?

The more she walked into the woods, the more snow there was; white snow, as pure as the mind of a newborn lamb, white like Balder's light. Each of her footstep were shushed into the powder snow and she heard it gently crack under her feet. It was calm there, peaceful. It was like walking into a cloud and the silenced forest of Winter was a sweet lullaby for comfort. Yet, Solveig's hand remained on the pommel of her sword.

After what seemed an eternity walking, she finally saw smoke escape from the chimneys of two long-houses and a cabin nearby. Thorunn's camp. It did not change much in a year; the only difference was the absence of tents and the second long house. From this, Thorunn deduced many more berserkers came to Thorunn, appealed by the reputation she managed to build herself. Solveig wondered if Thorunn trained and became stronger. She wondered if she was strong enough to defeat an army of her own.

As she walked towards Thorunn's cabin, men looked at her; some waved at her, others smiled and other gave her a defiant stare, in which she thought she saw arousal and thirst for blood or a girl's body. Solveig swallowed her bile and, her heart thumping against her ribs, tried as much as she could to overcome the terror that shook her. She knocked on the cabin's door and entered.

Thorunn was there, slightly more muscular than before, sharpening her sword, her long hair braided loosely, wearing a warm dress made of wool and wrapped in a fur cloak. Her long scar was still there, but it was slightly less red than she remembered. As Solveig entered, Thorunn rose her head and gave a warm smile.

"You returned." she said."I am glad you came back alive."

"You trained me well."

"You were a good student." Thorunn put her sword away and took a stool she placed beside her. "Come and sit. It is cold near the door."

Solveig shivered and sat on the stool and placed her hands above the hearth to warm herself up. Winter was harsh up there. Thorunn handed her some soup Solveig ate, shivering with pleasure. It was her second soup of the day but she felt she could drink more.

"You have more men." said Solveig.

"They keep coming. I trained with a few of them and I can tell you they are good. Probably the best warriors I have seen. I have learned much with them and they seem to respect me as I am, which pleases me."

"They scare me."

"They will not do anything to you or the village. I once caught one of them trying to force himself on a woman in the village. Now his dick is hanging from a tree. Men must learn respect, especially those, and they must learn it the hard way." maybe was it because of the fire, but for a brief moment, her eyes turned red. "Fortunately those cases are few and many understood what I wanted from them to stay. It is a small price, really, but for most of them that is barely anything and they tend to behave with respect."

"And still, they scare me."

"One day, you will discard fear."

"The one that does not fear anything would be a fool." said Solveig. "The one that does not fear is dead. It is fear that kept us mortals alive since the dawn of times and even the gods know it."

"You speak wisely." noted Thorunn.

"Borghild taught me well too."

"Borghild is a wise woman. I should perhaps listen to her more."

Solveig chuckled and nodded.

"Tell me, now, did you do what I asked you to?" asked Thorunn.

Solveig's smile disappeared and a bitter resentment took love's place in her heart; resentment towards Thorunn for all the secrets she hid from her and that other life she once lived and where Solveig did not have her place in. Jealousy followed; jealousy to know that Thorunn cared more about a faceless girl than her. And finally, a cold anger; anger to know that Thorunn did not judge it wise or considerate to tell her she had a daughter and hid her plans and intentions to her. And disappointment; disappointment to know that Thorunn, a woman she had grown to admire, abandoned a child to an uncertain life.

"Yes." said Solveig with a cold tone.

"And?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a daughter? Why didn't you tell me you abandoned her?" asked Solveig with a cold anger. "Why didn't you tell me your intentions? Why do you keep so many secrets from me? What about your scar, huh? And what about Bjorn Ironside? What about you and all your secrets? Did you deem me unworthy of your story? Did you deem me not important enough to trust me with your burden? I am your apprentice! I lived with you and fought with you and you told me nothing? Why do I feel like I am not important to you? Do you even care?"

"Solveig..." Thorunn begged, pained by the words and her actions.

"No!" yelled Solveig, violently standing up. "No more lies! No more secrets! No more manipulations! I am not your pawn! I am not some object to be placed on a Hnefatafl board! No more secrets, you hear me?! I am done being played with! Have you any idea of what it was to be there, where you once lived? Do you have any idea of the shock to realize one's most admired figure was not who they claimed to be? No! You don't know! Do not, ever play with my loyalty again!" Solveig's eyes filled with tears and she started sobbing uncontrollably.

Thorunn stood up and gently put her hand on Solveig's arms, but she shrugged it off. Thorunn gave a sad sigh and sat back.

"Sit down. I'll tell you everything."

Reluctantly, Solveig complied and sniffled. She wiped off her tears and looked at Thorunn with hurt eyes.

"I am sorry." said Thorunn, lowering her eyes. "It is not a good story. I was afraid you might see me as a coward or a slave."

"Why would I? You saved my life!" seethed Solveig.

Thorunn gave a weak laugh and sighed. "I was once a slave in Ragnar Lothbrok's household. His son and I fell in love and then, I have been freed by queen Aslaug. Then, I decided to train to become a shield-maiden, like the famous Lagertha, and I succeeded. I went on my first raid, pregnant. I won a battle but was wounded in the other... I..." she closed her eyes and stopped to suppress the shame and self-loathing she still felt deep inside her heart. "I got my scar from there, and drifted for several days between life and death. And I was no longer the same after. Bjorn wanted me to carry children, and I wanted to be worthy of him, and to earn Kattegat's respect."

Solveig scoffed. "That town can choke."

"Yes. I wanted many things. I yearned to be respected and admired. I yearned to be like Lagertha. I yearned to be worthy of the son of a king. But I was a slave once, and I was wounded. So much pressure... it was all a burden I inflicted upon myself, and in the end, a mere crack on my skin, and it all crushed me. I no longer wanted children; I no longer deemed myself worthy of Bjorn; I no longer wanted to see Lagertha and her perfect face; I no longer wanted to suffer the king's disapproving eyes upon a slave, as worthless as a dog; I no longer wanted to see Aslaug who freed me to let me live my dreams, not to feel her disappointment and cover her with further shame; I no longer wanted to see my face in a mirror; and I no longer wanted my daughter to be raised by a failure. My daughter shall be greater than myself and honor her father. I wanted her father to take pride in her. I do not wanted him to see myself in her. I just wanted to disappear. So I left."

Solveig gave a sad sigh. How to tell someone that they failed once more?

"So Siggy is your daughter." said Solveig.

"Yes." said Thorunn "I abandoned her and handed her to Aslaug, waiting for her father to come back to raise her. Raised in the hall of a king, my daughter would have been better. That is a regret which pains me everyday. And when I saw you, I saw my Siggy, and I no longer wanted to run away. By saving your life, I chose to be saved by yourself." Thorunn gently took Solveig's hands in hers and Solveig gave a small smile. "Now, tell me, did you succeed in gathering informations about her?"

Solveig's smile faded away. "Yes. But I must tell you that you failed even by leaving."

"What do you mean?" Thorunn frowned.

"That Bjorn sees you in herself and that he never cared for her. Siggy is not a princess, back there, she is a pariah and a pawn in a game larger than herself."

"She is alive, then?" Thorunn asked with relief.

"Yes. She is. But she disappeared who-knows-where and Bjorn is furious, because he intends on handing her in marriage to Rognvald of Vestfold, apparently against her will, to secure an alliance. And according to many young men I talked with in that cursed town of Kattegat, she became a fierce shield-maiden."

"Bjorn would do that?" Thorunn asked in disbelief. "She is his daughter, of course, and a princess but I thought he treated her well."

"You know he abandoned her. I saw your face when Einar told you so a year ago. I saw the disappointment; the betrayal." said Solveig with bitterness. "Don't deny you are angry."

Thorunn closed her eyes and when she re-opened them, they took the color of blood; of wrath and vengeance. Anger suited her well; like blood suited an ax; or pieces of guts and severed limbs suited a battlefield.

"I know how I feel, Solveig. And you are right; I am angry; no, worse that than. I want revenge for my wounded pride, my wounded honor, my robbed respect, my betrayed daughter and my severed heart. For so long I have kept on loving him and trusting him and now I learn that he betrayed me? Not only he made me have this child but I had to stay to care for her while he did what he pleased? I was still a slave to him. I will forever remain his slave. Bjorn Ironside, traitor!" seethed Thorunn. "And now he wants to get rid of our daughter for his own gain?! BJORN!" she violently threw a table through the cabin and, as her heart hammered in her chest, she panted and shook with a mad ire.

"If you must take arms against him, be warned. He is a king now, his mother rules, but he is a king."

"Lagertha became queen?" asked Thorunn with confusion. "But how?"

"She shot queen Aslaug in the back some times ago, and she placed Bjorn on the throne with no elections. But as Torvi told me, she is the one to rule."

"Torvi?"

"His companion. They had children together, less expendable than your daughter, for Torvi is faithful to Lagertha – perhaps to excess – and that the high queen approves of her. Not to mention the fact that Torvi is a shield-maiden and seems to be well protected. I do not know if Bjorn loves her, but he seems to like the fact that she is of noble birth."

Tears began to drip from Thorunn's eyes. "He never married her."

"No."

Thorunn fell on the ground and began to sob. She was right. All along, she had been right. She was nothing. She was a slave and slave-freer died. Bjorn was better off without her. She was nothing. She wasn't good enough for Lagertha to notice her, she wasn't good enough for Bjorn to marry her, she wasn't good enough for herself. She had never been enough, even to herself. She was nothing and she should have died on the battlefield. Bjorn decided to have Torvi as a companion even if he did not love her, surely, Torvi was a hundred times better than Thorunn; and from this knowledge, Thorunn felt like she was burned at a stake. She was nothing. She was no one.

"Thorunn?" asked Solveig with concern.

"A slave is still a slave after all. A slave to one's heart and a slave to oneself."

"A slave has become a legend and a warlord." Solveig said. "And such slave, I admire."

Thorunn gave a weak smile. "Thank you."

"And such a slave does not cower behind a crossbow. Your scar is here to prove it. You were a slave once, now you are Hel's daughter."

"Who knew my little apprentice could teach me so much about myself." she embraced Solveig and closed her eyes as a wide warm smile bloomed on her lips.

"In Kattegat, you were no one. But Kattegat is shit. The people there are shit and you are worth more than them. Here, you are the mighty Thorunn and the queen of berserkers. Here, Thorunn, this is not a shitty place and they never deserved you." claimed Solveig.

"Perhaps... But now, I had a debt to repay there. A debt to the woman who freed me, a debt to my daughter and a debt to myself. I will spread my wrath upon them, but first, I need my Siggy by my side. I want to know her before I march towards bloodshed."

"Aslaug never cared for your daughter." mentioned Solveig. "A woman named Helga told me so."

"For Bjorn to abandon her, then she must have taken care of her until his return. It is Bjorn who betrayed her, not Aslaug. She freed me, even if it was a mistake from her part. I won't blame a woman with a lot on her hands, with servants and a disabled boy for a man's treachery. Siggy is alive, that is what matters, but so long as Bjorn thinks he can do whatever he pleases with her, I will not be satisfied. No, I must avenge her and myself. But on Bjorn and Lagertha only."

"I thought you admired her."

"Not since you told me she shot a defenseless woman in the back. Besides, there are other women to admire and I want peace with myself." she glanced at her necklace. "And I need to repay a debt."

"So? What do you plan to do?"

"Retrieve my daughter, assemble an army and destroy Bjorn Ironside." growled Thorunn.

"Sounds like a plan... What do you need me to do?"

She grinned. "I want you to find Siggy and bring her to me. Can you do that?"

"Yes. Provided you trust me for the rest of your plan."

"I trust you more than anyone. And if you please, I would like you to begin looking for her at the end of Winter."

"It will be done."

"Good." Thorunn then went to fetch blankets and furs. "Now, night has fallen and I am afraid you will have to sleep here. I hope Borghild won't mind." she muttered as she made two beds.

Solveig shrugged. "Adhils knows. He would have told her."

"The man knows his women, I see. You know, sometimes, I envy them. I wish I had someone to wait for me home."

"In the meantime, it is you who are waiting for someone, home."

"I know. It pleases me as well."

Solveig changed clothes and slipped into her bed. "I am glad you are here."

Thorunn slipped into her own. "I am glad I am here."

Solveig yawned and then, silence fell as she started to doze off to the land of dreams, resting from a year away from home, returned, at last.

And in the silence, under layers of fur and wools, as men outside were humming winter songs and fire crackled while wolves howled in the distance, Thorunn thought. She thought of her revenge and of her daughter, her precious Siggy. What did she look like? Was she happy? Was she safe? Did she eat well? Was she warm? Was she angry? In the silence, no answer came, but regrets; and in those regrets, Thorunn drowned, dwelling in bitterness and resent for what seemed like an eternity; enough to consume her.

She should have stayed. She should have stayed and leaving was a mistake. Had she stayed, Bjorn wouldn't have had children with Torvi, they would have been a happy family and Siggy could have been trained by Lagertha and raised by Aslaug while she trained and fought beside Bjorn. Had she stayed, perhaps Aslaug would have taught her to accept herself and even to love what she was the way she was. Had she stayed, she would have glared at a weakening Ragnar and savored his looks of contempt for a lesser born woman die as his dignity vanished. Had she stayed, all things would have been better; and especially for her sweet daughter.

But she left; for selfish or selfless reasons, this, only the gods could tell, and although they dwelt into the wilderness, none answered her yet. She left and Bjorn decided a higher born woman was more fit to be his companion than a former-slave and failed shield-maiden his wife. Had she been free, had she not been put into slavery because of circumstances, all would have been different.

And now Aslaug was dead, killed by a woman Thorunn once admired, and who took a throne by force and blood; Siggy was who-knew-where and Bjorn was a puppet king for a cursed empire. Aslaug was dead and with her death, a debt arose; Aslaug freed her, in a way, Thorunn was indebted to her. Thorunn must avenge her; it was a matter of honor.

And as sleep came, her last thoughts, as always, went to Bjorn the way she knew him; handsome, kind, noble and loyal. Her Bjorn, her prince, and the man she so despised; her husband, the one that abandoned their daughter. She hoped he was miserable. And yet, she loved him.

Bjorn looked at the door in front of him; that old door his father opened so many times to seek wisdom from an old disfigured seer, cursed and bound to deliver the gods' words to puny humans. And like his father, Bjorn came here seeking relief; relief from his companion, Torvi, who insisted yet again to be his wife and couldn't spare any praises towards his own mother, the great Lagertha, whose shadow was almost as crushing as his father's; relief from his two sons who would just not leave him alone; relief from concern for Siggy, who was somewhere where he couldn't use her for the kingdom's sake; relief from all of his worries about alliances with Norse kings; and relief from the pressure of being on a throne he never truly wanted but sought now to defend against his own brothers, men he once played with and who he still cared for dearly.

His thoughts drifted once again to Torvi and her pleas, she repeated a few minutes ago. Torvi wanted the status of a wife; not only for her honor and position as a noblewoman, but also for their sons, to see them legitimized and rule Kattegat, one day. Torvi was a woman with pride, a wounded woman, discarded many times, with too many dead husbands for her age. Bjorn considered her demands and thought them just, but for a reason he dreaded to name, he just couldn't resolve to accept them.

And yet, Torvi was his mother's right-hand, and he knew his father would have chosen such a woman to be his wife. He knew his parents would have approved of such a noble marriage, but still, in his heart, a presence never left; so bitter and yet tender.

That presence, her name was Thorunn. His beautiful first wife, his first love and perhaps the most beautiful and bravest woman he had ever laid with. When she was still in Kattegat, he would have impaled his head rather than think of laying with another woman.

With Torvi, it was different. She was more demanding and yet less than Thorunn. She was his mother's pawn in her own game and Bjorn was wary of the power Lagertha had on his throne, not that he wanted it anyway. Not to mention she killed his brothers' mother, which he thought had been a foolish act, too despicable for his mother to whom he owed his eternal loyalty. Torvi had been modeled after Lagertha's image and possessed Aslaug's entitlement and noble behavior. She was what Ragnar would have wanted for him; not a freed slave.

And yet, Thorunn was still there, in his heart; and Bjorn felt shame she left; shame she deemed him not enough for her; anger she betrayed him; anger she left him to take care of a daughter he would have wished for her to take care of; he felt hurt every time he glanced at her and was reminded of Thorunn and all the reasons she left; he felt hurt to know that Thorunn did not love him enough to stay, didn't trust him enough to know how deeply he loved her; and hated Siggy, for she was a reminder of his broken heart and a bitter memory of a lost pride.

Bjorn gave a long sigh and entered the dark room. The seer was there, in the shadows, giggling.

"I knew you would come." he said with a rattled voice.

"That is because I was outside."

"Perhaps... Or perhaps not..." the seer twisted a bone in his hands. "I see many things trouble you, Bjorn Ironside. And I see many turmoils."

"Then, your sight is accurate. I have indeed come here with many questions."

"Ask, then."

"Who was that girl who came here, days ago and asked for my daughter? Where is Siggy and will she ever marry Rognvald? Will Torvi stop asking me to marry her? Where is Thorunn?"

The seer laughed; a bitter laugh with no joy. "Again, Bjorn Ironside, you ask where your wife is."

"Answer, oh, wise one. Answer to your king."

"We all know, Bjorn Ragnarsson, that you are no king here."

"Then, will I be king? What do you foresee for me and my line? What will become of Kattegat?"

"Many of your questions have the same answer. Many are linked, Ironside."

"Then, tell me."

"Tell, tell, tell. That is all you want! I, for one, is tired of playing the game of the gods. I am tired of living and tired of having my voice bound to your every desires. You seek knowledge, but I can tell you only through a veil and the future will unfold the second the Norns deem it fit. No matter if I speak, you will only have your answer the fated day it will come."

"Then, tell me what you know. And once this done, you will be freed of my presence."

The seer gave a long rale and with a husky voice, started to speak: "The maiden with fire in the hair is bound to obey a she-wolf, bear-slayer in dark and misty mountains, while beasts comes to them, drawn by fame and by blood. The she-wolf will make you king, or she will devour you, her choices are not yet clear, and the maiden will either kill you, or leave Kattegat in its ashy ground. I see the she-wolf glare at you, sheltering a grown pup, which fangs are sharp and who is protecting a young and fair maiden herself. I see them two march north and I see flames devouring what you wish was yours; and I see a chest ripped apart by four boars. I see a gilded woman made of marble shatter while an iron bear sits under a tree which branches reach the sky. And I see that the bear is bound to the tree by golden chains. That is what I can tell you."

"And Siggy?" asked Bjorn with a cold anger. "Where is she?"

"I see her, beyond a wide wide sea... I see her, far away from her roots, as far as she can with people that do not look like us. I see ships and I see blood. I see your wolf of a daughter growing into a shadow more imposing and yet imperceptible than your own mother."

"That is not what I asked you." said Bjorn.

"I know..." the seer gave a mysterious laugh. "She is with your brothers, the youngest of the Volsungs."

"In Northumbria?" Bjorn asked, almost shaking with anger.

The seer laughed. "Yes. Building her fame away from Kattegat."

Bjorn nodded and took the seer's hand to lick it. He stood up and was about to leave the house when the seer spoke again.

"Remember my words, Bjorn Ironside. That is perhaps the last of my prophecies. When wolves will howl in Kattegat and royal blood fertilize the ground, I will be gone."

And with this prediction delivered, he burst into a delirious laughter that frightened Bjorn to the point cold shivers ran down his spine.

Shaken, the king returned to the open and cold air of Kattegat, no longer locked in a closed room where everything smelled and where smoke stifled the senses. He gave a few breathes before he headed towards the quays and sat on a ship, gazing to the horizon; the uncertain horizon.

What to do next? Horek and Guthrum were gone to Northumbria and there was no way to reach to them with Winter here. He would have to wait for Spring to set sail to Northumbria and retrieve his daughter and marry her to Rognvald. The wedding would be delayed, but so long as the agreement was fulfilled, there was a way to kill Aelle and conquer England for his father. Vestfold would not appreciate the delay, but with the help of his mother's fame, this could be arranged.

Bjorn enraged. Siggy escaped and she succeeded. Once she was back in his hall, he would have her watched day and nights; and he would tie her to a bed if needed, but she would stay. Her mother was already gone. The daughter shall not share this fate.

Horek and Guthrum made their way across the camp, in the damp lands of Northumbria, followed by the men they brought with them and who, after weeks at sea, were happy to feel steady ground again. They entered in the main tent where Sigurd and Ivar were arguing over petty things, while Angrboda watched, frowning with disapproval. As she saw Guthrum enter, her heart skipped a beat and Sigurd blanched.

Ivar grinned. "Why, Horek and Guthrum. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Guthrum snarled. "We are here to help you, on behalf of Bjorn Ironside. We came with many ships to place ourselves under your command, my princes."

"That is generous of him." said Ivar coldly. "Mount your tents then be back here. Sigurd and I will explain to you what our plans are."

Horek nodded and walked out of the tent to give his orders. Guthrum looked at Angrboda and took her by the arms which made Sigurd and Ivar unsheathe their swords.

"He won't hurt me." Angrboda said.

But judging by the worry in their eyes Ivar and Sigurd doubted it.

"Where is she?" grunted Guthrum.

"In the medical tent. She is being tended to by Gye, Horek's sister."

"I can't wait for Gye to kill him, then. He has been sent there to spy for Bjorn. I don't like this."

"Neither do I." seethed Angrboda. "If he finds her, he will return her to Bjorn."

Guthrum released her and looked at Sigurd. "If she is hurt, I swear..."

"She is fine." growled Angrboda.

Guthrum looked at her with anger and nodded. "Keep Horek distracted." he said to the youngest of Ragnar's sons. "If he finds her, bye bye Siggy."

With those words, he walked out of the tent and headed with angry strides towards the healing tent. When he entered, Siggy was there, scarred, but so beautiful. And suddenly Guthrum felt happy. Siggy was still Siggy; the woman who hated Bjorn and Ragnar's blood. And her surprised eyes when she looked at him were for him the most beautiful of scene. In her eyes, there was love and devotion and Guthrum loved her for this. He loved her in spite of her foul blood.

"Guthrum? Wha..."

Guthrum did not let her finish. He rushed towards her and kissed her urgently and most passionately. He took her face in his hands and kissed her with all the strength he could. After a moment, he released her and looked at her beautiful face, all flushed, all red, as she panted. He loved when she was like this; so weak for his kisses.

Siggy gave a small smile. "Must you always be so violent?"

"Only when I know how fierce the woman."

Siggy gave a sigh and shook her head. "Guthrum, what are you doing here?" asked Siggy, puzzled.

"Yes, Guthrum," said Gye. "What are you doing here?"

"I came on Bjorn's behalf to join your ranks. Horek is here too; a spy for Bjorn."

"Horek?" growled Gye with a cold anger.

"Yes."

"A spy for Bjorn?" grunted Siggy.

"Yes."

"Excuse me, but I need to vomit." declared Gye before she left.

Siggy gave a smile at Gye's words. Then, her eyes went on Guthrum again, who sat beside her. "If Horek is here, then, he will see me and return me to Kattegat to be thrown to hounds. This shall not happen. I will never marry a man that I don't love. On my life, if I am returned, my vengeance will be as devastating as Ragnarök, this, I swear! Horek is here, I cannot change it. Killing him would fatally lead to the failure of Sigurd's endeavor and I do not want that. Horek is here. Fine, I'll deal with it. But he must, by all means, never see me!"

HEY FOLKS! So there wasn't a lot of Sig and Boda in this chapter but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! What did you think of it?