Hey y'all! First of all, I want to apologize for the wait! It has been too long since I last updated but school has been crazy for me the past few weeks and I feel like I've been working on this chapter forever! I still feel like something is off about it. But this week is spring break and it's been raining, which is like 100% writing inspiration for me. If it's raining, I feel like I need to be writing something. So that's been productive. It's also a bit of a long chapter so I stopped before I felt like it went on too long. I hope you enjoy it! I've been reading your comments and I really appreciate them. It's so great to see what you're thinking and what you'd like to happen so please keep talking to me! I might make the next chapter from the boys' perspectives but we'll see how it goes. I hope you are all doing well! Thank you again!

Asdis made several tiny braids in Dagny's hair. She was slow and purposeful and Dagny did not mind. They would both be expected to be polished and elegant since they could be at the side of the queen for much of the feast. There had also been talk of a sacrifice for the night before the raiders left, which thrilled Dagny because sacrifices always put everyone in an excellent mood. It would also bode well for Hvitserk's journey to the Mediterranean.

Asdis hadn't said much since this morning, when she and Margrethe had tried their luck with the chickens. Dagny feared what they talked about, what was said about her. She'd heard nothing about what happened, which wasn't unusual, she supposed. But she'd spoken to Margrethe the night before and she knew it had been gravely inappropriate. She couldn't blame Margrethe for any thoughts she might have of her.

With Asdis's hands in her hair, it was all she could think about. How she'd grabbed Margrethe by the wrist, how her nerves had been plain on her pretty face, how obvious it had been that she believed Dagny should thank her for doing this.

"Margrethe, please," Dagny had murmured, her fingers around Margrethe's tiny wrist, "be kind to him."

"Kind?" she'd whispered back, blue eyes wide. "I am frightened for my life and you counsel kindness?"

"I'm sorry," Dagny had immediately apologized. Margrethe had every reason to be anxious. But Dagny felt sure that a woman as sly and unknowingly cunning as her could have found a way to avoid this situation. All it might have taken was the right word to Ubbe. "Then pretend." Margrethe averted her eyes. She thought she was doing Dagny the greatest favor, Dagny could tell by the look on her beautiful face. Margrethe was sparing her the wrath and the horror and the fumbling inexperience. "I would have done this in your place."

Margrethe shook her head, saying without words that she thought Dagny was mad. Envy washed over her like stormy water, it seemed to take root in the smallest of places. Dagny wanted to call her greedy and curse her for sampling the royal family like apples at the market. "I'm doing you a great favor, Dagny."

That echoed in her mind even now. A great favor. A great favor. A great favor. Dagny couldn't tell who was the more foolish between them.

"I spoke with Margrethe this morning." Asdis' voice was cold, detached.

"What did she say?" Dagny made herself ask.

"She did not say much. But then, she didn't have to." Dagny closed her eyes, willed herself to neutrality, but the urge to ask about it all crept over her. "At least it is over." There was a sigh in her voice.

That, Dagny could agree with.

Asdis crowned her with Dagny's wreath of purple and white flowers. Asdis wore one of red and blue. Asdis said nothing when normally feast days were her favorites, an excuse to look like more than a servant for a night. Dagny said nothing either, knowing that something must have been said when Asdis was with Margrethe that had made her pensive.

Dagny could not settle her nerves on the way to the great hall. Asdis, golden yet severe, appeared more a queen's handmaiden than Dagny feared she ever would. Dagny felt like a girl standing beside a woman, someone meek beside someone bold.

"Are you angry with me, Asdis?" Dagny finally asked as they approached the great hall. She knew what waited behind those doors, who she would see, conversations she might be forced to have, and all the while, she would have to face Aslaug, a woman she admired beyond anything on this earth and mother to boys she respected. Boys she cared about.

"No." Asdis was curt and short and it frustrated Dagny, who already felt cold and unwanted. She was aware that it was imprudent, when she and Asdis argued all of the time and moved past it quickly, but this felt strange. It felt final, like it might be the last conversation with Asdis she'd ever have.

"Then what is it?" Asdis turned and though Dagny was a head taller than her, it was still as if Asdis was looking down her nose.

"I am concerned about you." If this were a usual day, Dagny would have scoffed or laughed but nothing about this day had been usual and Asdis, for once, seemed genuinely serious. "She wouldn't say but I know he hurt her."

The ice Dagny felt like she had been standing on for days suddenly cracked beneath her feet.

"There's a mark on her neck," Asdis continued. "She said he wanted you. She said he whispered your name."

And Dagny plunged into the cold water. It made her heart stop.

She took in a sharp breath. "Asdis, I-"

"I don't want to argue. Just be careful, Dagny, please. He's- he is mad and I fear he will destroy you." Dagny worried the opposite; that he would make her, craft her into something she wasn't. "Have some sense, I implore you. This is not a game, not a board where he can put us all into the place he wants us."

"You and I both know that all we are, are pieces in their game," Dagny muttered, her voice low.

Asdis frowned. "If he comes for you, Dagny, I can't protect you."

"I would never have asked you to." Asdis shook her head in response.

"Are you scared?" Dagny was at war. Because, indeed, this did frighten her. It did make her fear him. But another part of her refused to settle for that, did not want to be like everyone else in Kattegat who wasn't the queen. She had worked for Ivar's respect, for his hard-won amity, for him to feel comfortable enough with her to talk. She couldn't put all of her history with him aside for one event, something that was not even confirmed. But she could not ignore it either, not when it involved her in some way. Dagny knew she could be naïve but she hoped she was not stupid.

Dagny shook her head in response. "Being frightened of him has created this situation."

"No, I'm afraid your brashness has done that."

"I can't apologize for befriending him. He is an outcast, he's looked down upon. It is not right or just or remotely in the realm of acceptable and I'm ashamed, Asdis, that you think it is. He can't walk! It does not make him dimwitted or deaf to cruelty. He is the most intelligent person in that hall, perhaps the most intelligent person either of us will ever know." Dagny was pointing to the doors, nails digging into her palm.

Asdis, cold as ever, showed no reaction. "That means that you feel sorry for him, that you pity him, that you clutch your heart when he crawls by because you cannot imagine his hardship. It does not mean that you let him slink into your bed when you know he's a killer."

"What other choice is there, Asdis? What would you have me do?"

"Don't pretend like it isn't something you want. Margrethe said he was half undressed when she arrived, that your hair was undone." Dagny's fingers seemed to lock. It had hurt her to do that. She had barely touched him and still, it had burned.

"I did what I was asked." Asdis seemed to soften and understand that it hadn't been something Dagny had wanted, even if it wasn't for the reason she thought.

"Please, Dagny. I beg you to be smart, to be careful."

"I am smart. I am careful." Asdis tilted her golden head to the side, every inch a mentor wanting to scold a student. She simply shook her head and thrust the doors to the hall open.

Dagny had worked at every feast she'd ever attended and she had been prepared to work at this one. But she was sitting at the table reserved for Aslaug and her family instead, having to bear the looks that Dotta and Asdis threw her. Worse than their judgment were the stares from Margrethe, who had walked by so many times as to be conspicuous. Dagny's nails dug lines into the wood of the great oaken table because Asdis had been true to her word. A thin line, neither red nor pink nor there the day before, graced her lean throat. It was light, barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know to look.

Hvitserk poured her ceremonial wine. He was the reason she was sitting instead of moving among the throngs of people in the hall and serving. "Sit with me," he'd said not long after she and Asdis had arrived, taking her hands and pulling her to the table without waiting for an answer. Asdis had remained behind, platters and jugs and plates surrounding her.

"They could need me," Dagny had muttered. Hvitserk had only scoffed. Dagny tried to ignore the feel of his hands on hers, how warm he seemed.

"And deny me time with you before I leave?" he'd asked. He had been smiling and it was so charming that she smiled back and followed him. It wasn't until she reached the table that it all sunk in. A night sitting with the queen, with her sons. It was an honor, one that she'd never seen given to another slave.

She attempted one last time to avoid it, to work with the others, when she saw Aslaug at the head of the table. But Aslaug had only graced her with the most charming smile and said it was more than fine. Aslaug was always kind to her, in ways Dagny thought she didn't deserve, but she found this strange. Hvitserk had brought her around the table and pulled her down onto the bench beside him before she could question it. Anxiety roiled in her stomach when she saw that Ivar would be to her left. Ivar hunched over the table, an overconfident smirk plastered on his handsome face, but it faltered when she sat down beside him.

Hvitserk pressed the goblet into her hands, shaking her from any thoughts. "Skål," he said, holding her gaze. That look made her head spin as much as she knew the wine would. She smiled and drank. It was automatic. Ceremonial wine always made her feel strange, happy.

"Dagny!" Ubbe exclaimed when he arrived, theatrically taking a seat in front of her. "You look lovely!" Dagny felt her face warm immediately. Ubbe always made any comment seem genuine. "Doesn't she?" Ubbe's gaze slid to Ivar and he nodded her way. It was so incredibly obvious that Dagny felt sure everyone around them took notice of it, including Aslaug. Her nails dug into her palm.

Ivar turned, locking his eyes on the flowers in her hair and the flush of her skin. "Yes," he allowed, the response seeming unnecessarily painful. "She does."

Sigurd and Hvitserk laughed and it made her flinch. "Thank you," she murmured. Ivar looked her over one last time, from her unbound hair to her faded red dress, and nodded. That he ignored his brothers' laughter seemed strange to Dagny, when Ivar normally never let any word against him stand. But his hand was in a fist in his lap and she thought, perhaps, that he was trying to avoid the fight.

Dagny looked across the table and raised her eyebrows at Ubbe, who grinned and shrugged, as if to say it was worth trying. Something about it made her feel warm, that perhaps Ubbe was true to his word and they were friends. She wanted it to be so, particularly after her strained conversation with Asdis.

"Well, I think you always look lovely," Hvitserk said, suddenly so close to her that she could feel the press of his chest against her arm. He plucked a flower from her crown and tucked it behind his ear. Sigurd rolled his eyes and brushed the flower onto the floor. Hvitserk pushed at him and Dagny laughed.

Ivar froze beside her, as if enchanted by some song only he could hear. Though it wasn't her concern by any means, Dagny still desperately wanted to know what had happened between Ivar and Margrethe. No one else seemed to think anything was unusual and Dagny was sure that Sigurd would never let an opportunity pass to embarrass Ivar, if he saw it. But she wasn't blind or irrational for that matter. There was a mark on Margrethe's neck. Asdis was remarkably grave. Ivar, normally in his element at these feasts, said nothing to her when the night before, she thought he might devour her.

Sigurd got up and walked around the table, putting his head between her and Ivar. Dagny knew from the apprehensive look on Ubbe's face that this was not going to go well. Sigurd smiled back, an eerie thing that typically hid mischief.

"So how was it, Ivar? How was Margrethe?" Sigurd asked, his voice sly. His hand landed on Dagny's shoulder, as if he thought she might bolt. It made her flinch. Dagny thought he might still be mad at her for knocking a glass of ale down the front of him weeks ago. She lied and said it was a mistake but Sigurd knew it was because he'd been criticizing Ivar and Aslaug. She'd barely even disguised the movement. She'd tipped the glass into his lap before she even knew what she was doing. Sigurd had never forgotten it.

Ivar's blue eyes were cold and narrowed. But he bragged about it, about how Margrethe was so impressed with him, especially compared to Sigurd. It went on until Ivar felt that he'd successfully cowed Sigurd, though Dagny knew just how difficult that could be.

Aslaug eventually called for it all to stop and Dagny was massively relieved, as there had been many a night that had devolved into an unnecessary fight between Sigurd and Ivar. This night felt full of stress anyway, with tension now wrought clear across every face sitting at the table.

Hvitserk, as always, ignored it and took Dagny's hand again. She smiled at him, because she'd always thought her hands rough and harsh, but she immediately wanted to take it back when Sigurd smirked at Ivar. But she had no choice, she couldn't say anything, she could only do as she was told. So she allowed Hvitserk to steal her attention and it wasn't a hard thing to do.

Hvitserk was kind and funny and he liked her and if there was an air of competition to the feast, he seemed to ignore it. He talked to Dagny about raiding and all manner of things and all the while, kept his hand on hers. Dagny knew what Asdis and the others would say; that this was the start of what she'd always known was coming. And Dagny knew no way to avoid it. Worse, was that she didn't want to. She'd been cast aside in favor of Margrethe because she did not know how to do this and she liked him. Dagny had grown up alongside Aslaug's sons but she'd always been closest to Hvitserk. It was for a reason. Perhaps she was wrong but Dagny thought them alike. It made sense when, as of late, not much had.

There was a loud groan as the doors to the hall opened, revealing Hvitserk and Bjorn's fellow raiders to the Mediterranean, Halfdan the Black and Harald Finehair. Dagny was certain she'd met them many years ago, before Ragnar's second voyage to Paris, and she hadn't liked them. Of course, Dagny could not recall liking anyone other than Aslaug and her family before the age of eight.

Hvitserk leaned over and told her that he should meet them alongside Bjorn. Then his lips were on her cheek. His breath was warm against her throat and before she could react, he was gone. Dagny tried to weigh her hand down but it traced her cheek anyway, in an odd sort of disbelief. It felt like she'd been standing too close to a fire. She looked up and saw Ubbe, who gave the merest shake of his head.

Dagny turned to Ivar. He only stared back, apparently about to say something, when Dagny heard the unmistakable sound of a platter and cookware hitting the wooden floor. She stood and watched some of the crowd of raiders part enough for her to see Margrethe on the ground, plates strewn around her. Dagny was beginning to climb over the bench to go to her aid when Ivar wrapped a strong hand around her wrist.

"Don't," he said sternly but there was something in his voice that sounded like begging. Dagny looked down at him, the question showing in her hazel eyes. "I said, don't."

Dagny slowly sat back down, her gaze still on Margrethe, who only looked back. She had to obey him. There was no other choice. Ivar's hand was still locked on her wrist but he wouldn't look at her. There was something he didn't want Margrethe to have the opportunity to say.

"Let her help, Ivar," Aslaug finally said, her beautiful face a mask. She looked between Ivar and Dagny as if she saw something connecting them. Dagny thought that perhaps, she did. Aslaug could see things others couldn't.

"Mother," Ivar replied. How he made one word sound like praise and pleading and anger all at once, Dagny would never know.

"Ivar," Aslaug warned. Dagny nodded at the queen and the moment Ivar's fingers left her skin, she went to Margrethe's aid.

She moved through the large crowd to Margrethe and dropped to her knees to help her clean up. Dagny could tell that the evening had been a massive stress on Margrethe thus far, if only because she constantly walked by Aslaug's table meekly.

"Hurry," Dagny whispered, "before you are punished." Before they were both punished. While Aslaug wasn't known for doling out incredibly harsh punishments to slaves she liked, Dagny wondered whether there was any affection between the queen and Margrethe. Besides, Aslaug was not the only one who might harm them, not when they were on the floor amidst many warriors.

Margrethe moved slowly, as if in a daze and unaware of all the people around them. She could often be timid and skittish but Dagny found this strange. Timid and skittish were qualities most slaves had, Dagny included, but this went beyond that. Margrethe was scared.

"Margrethe, are you all right?" Dagny asked, placing a plate on the tray and narrowly avoiding a raider's foot. She nodded back but kept her eyes down. She wasn't going to say anything. "I owe you an apology." Margrethe froze, hand on a cup. "What I said to you last night… it was wrong. I'm sorry."

There was a long pause after they finished cleaning up the plates but Margrethe finally got up the nerve when they both stood. "I can't talk to you, Dagny. I want to but I can't."

"Talk to me about what?" Margrethe shook her head. "Just tell me, did he hurt you?" Margrethe finally met Dagny's eyes and narrowed her own.

"No," she denied, even though it was as clear as daylight that he had.

Dagny did not know how to reply or what else to say so she turned to leave. But Margrethe grabbed her arm, her nails digging into Dagny's skin. "Margrethe-" Dagny began.

"He wanted you," Margrethe murmured. Dagny tried to take a step back but Margrethe only pulled her closer. The doors to the hall creaked open once more, attracting everyone else's attention. "He said your name."

Dagny again heard ice cracking beneath her feet. She felt it on her neck and down her back and along her chest. It was a feeling she wanted to hate but just couldn't.

"I'm sorry," Dagny muttered, unsure of what else to say. Margrethe shrugged and walked away, balancing her tray of plates deftly. Dagny only stood there, wondering why Margrethe thought that was an important thing to say.

She decided that she would have to return to the queen's table. It was an honor to be asked to sit with their family and she could not deny it. But the second the table was in sight, a hand wrapped around her upper arm. Dagny was beginning to get irritated with that.

She turned and saw a man at least twice her size, no doubt a part of Harald Finehair's raiding party. Her eyes widened when he let her arm go only to claw at her waist. Dagny made her face turn from anger and disgust to a perfected expression of neutrality. She wouldn't do him the honor of pretending to enjoy it. When his hands finally roamed her chest, Dagny flinched.

The man was away from her in the next instant, a woman now standing between them. "Leave the girl alone," she said. "She's not interested." He disappeared back into the crowd and Dagny felt as if she could finally breathe once more.

The woman must have some clout to end the interaction that quickly, Dagny thought. When she turned back to her, Dagny found that she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She had a crown of blonde hair and carried herself as a queen, an earl. And it all became clear.

"Thank you," Dagny said. Lagertha, once wife to Ragnar Lothbrok and now Earl Ingstad, smiled at her.

"You are welcome," she replied. "No one deserves that." Dagny was still stunned when Lagertha walked away to speak with Bjorn Ironside.

She walked back to the table as slowly as she could muster, though the urge to run to the safety it offered was still in the back of her mind. Ivar was talking to Aslaug and gesturing past Dagny to Lagertha. When the queen rose to go speak with her, calculated anger plain in her expression, Dagny thought that everyone in the great hall must be in competition with someone else. She with Margrethe, Ivar with Sigurd and Hvitserk, Aslaug with Lagertha.

Ivar clenched his jaw when she sat down beside him. She supposed she could have taken any other seat, as everyone else was now speaking with the newcomers to the feast, but why pretend?

Ivar observed her coolly and finally said, "If a man touches you like that again, I want you to fight him. Kill him."

"You know that I cannot do that," she replied. It had a double meaning; Dagny wasn't allowed to do that, nor did she have the capability if she was.

"You can learn," he responded. "I'll show you."

She shook her head. "It is something I must bear."

"How often does this happen?" It was said through his teeth, more a snarl than speaking.

"Seldomly," she replied.

"Then it is often enough." He looked her up and down, as if taking her measure. "I order you to fight back." Dagny was smiling before she could tell herself not to. "Even if it is my own brother."

Dagny gave him a nod. "Then I will do as you wish."

"And what do you wish, Dagny?" Ivar leaned towards her, all soft skin and sharp edges. She reached for him without thinking and let him take her hand.

"I don't know," she lied. She wanted to know what happened the night before.

"I am sure you do."

"Margrethe. Did you like her?" Dagny muttered. "That is what I wish to know."

She knew it was the right way to get her real question answered because he froze and his grip on her hand tightened. "No," he admitted. "I did not like her at all. She did not please me." It was probably one of the most honest statements he'd ever spoken to her. It seemed to take an endurance of colossal skill for him to say the words.

"What did she do wrong?" Why did you hurt her? Dagny thought desperately.

"She was not you." And his hand crept up her arm until his fingers were on her throat. She tried so hard to keep her mind clear and focused, to remember the line on Margrethe's neck, but Dagny could only think that Ivar must have bargained with the gods for the ability to lace his touch with magic. It had her mesmerized.

Aslaug and Ubbe finally returned and Dagny made herself pull back. Ivar took her hand again and pulled her closer to him, so close she could feel every move he made.

Hvitserk came back only moments later and immediately, the air was charged. Dagny didn't need to see to know that Ivar was smirking because Hvitserk actually narrowed his eyes. She'd never seen him jealous. In fact, she didn't know that Hvitserk even understood how to be jealous. It wasn't a typical Viking trait.

But competition, she supposed, was.