Hi all! I hope you're all having a great week. I'm finally posting another chapter! Thank you so, so much for all of your kind words on the others. I'm glad that so many people are enjoying it! I hope you continue to do so. Enjoy this chapter! The second half is a bit of skipping through time a bit so that may be why it's different in style/tone. But Ivar is back next chapter! How are y'all enjoying the new season? It's so good already! As usual, I only own Dagny.

Pain woke Dagny up, the sting in the wound on her leg something she irrationally feared might never go away. She put her hand over her face. The three of them had somehow managed to fall asleep in a line on the floor, with cloaks as pillows and she and Asdis's meager blankets thrown atop them. Ubbe's arm was slung around her waist. Even asleep, he managed to keep clear of the cut along her ribs. She wanted to touch his hand, link their fingers, pull his arm to her chest but that was so dangerous.

Sigurd was on the other side, close enough for her to feel the warmth pouring off of him. His mouth was parted, blonde hair everywhere, and Dagny found herself thinking that he appeared actually relaxed. Sigurd rarely smiled anymore, not like he did when they were children.

When she told him how to do it, Sigurd had sewn the gash along her right calf shut. She knew he had steady hands, deft fingers. He could not be a musician otherwise. Though he tried to hide it, he'd blushed when she praised him. They were better stitches than even she could have achieved, particularly on a wound that uneven.

After feeling listless for much of the morning, as neither the princes nor Dagny had any idea of how to proceed with Lagertha in charge, Dagny suggested that Sigurd make some more salve for their injuries while she and Ubbe headed to the lake to clean their wounds properly. Ubbe agreed, because it was something to do. Sigurd raised an eyebrow at her when Ubbe turned his back. Dagny clenched her jaw, even as she fought it with every ounce of her being. She would have recommended this to anyone with their injuries. It was the logical next step in healing.

But it was different now.

"Here," Ubbe said when they were ready, extending a hand. Dagny took it and he pulled her arm around his shoulders, keeping their fingers linked. He put his free hand on her waist for support and she pressed against him. Everything in her wanted to scream. They were too close. But Ubbe smiled and she did not care anymore.

Putting weight on her right leg, even barely, had Dagny gritting her teeth. If Ubbe was the one bearing this wound, she would have refused him the opportunity to go anywhere. It required rest. But part of her feared losing the use of it entirely if she did not make herself walk.

Once outside, Ubbe's horse whinnied as their bag of supplies was hitched onto its back. She wanted to try to mount the horse on her own but eventually conceded to Ubbe's help. He helped her throw her leg over the saddle and got on behind her. She immediately tensed.

"Don't be nervous," he murmured, mouth perilously close to her ear. Sigurd crossed his arms, just looking at her. "Horses can sense that."

It's not the horse, she thought. But instead she smiled and tried to relax. The ride through town would have made it difficult to do on a normal day. Lagertha's influence was everywhere and people's gazes seemed to linger a bit longer on them than normal.

"To be as tall as you are, you shrink into yourself," Ubbe said as they finally reached the lake. It was deep in the forest and afforded a great deal of privacy. "You should stand straight."

He was down and putting his hands on her waist before she could protest. She stumbled when her feet hit the ground, right leg wanting to buckle. She had been trying to ignore the pain spurred by the movement of the horse beneath her, by the tenseness in her shoulders, but this was worse still. Ubbe kept his hands on her, concerned she was going to fall.

"Sometimes, it is not to your benefit to be noticed," Dagny replied and let him help her sit down on a stone by the water. He sat beside her, wrapping his arms around his knees. It was so ridiculously informal.

"Are you all right?" Ubbe's swelling was already much better than the day before but he still looked pitiful enough that Dagny felt she should tell the truth.

"I killed someone yesterday," she responded, taking off her cloak. "I expected to feel differently. Instead I feel nothing."

"That is nothing to be ashamed of, Dagny. You had to protect yourself."

She nodded because it would have been true had the girl stormed into her cabin, looking to kill. But Dagny had crossed to her with the intent of violence.

"I am sorry about Margrethe," she murmured. He turned, braid swinging over his shoulder. "I know you care for her so I am sorry."

"I don't blame her," he replied. "She is a slave. She has to think about her best interests." Dagny swallowed. Had she foregone her best interests after all?

There was a long pause where they said nothing. It made her think of Hvitserk, of how often they used to just sit beside each other and sometimes never talk.

"Why didn't you go with Lagertha?" he asked, strangely vulnerable in tone. Dagny turned but he kept staring out at the water, his profile the side of his face that had managed to get by unscathed. She considered taking his hand but stopped the second her fingers started to creep along the stone.

"It was a trick, Ubbe," she responded.

"I don't believe it was. I believe she wanted to hurt my family and she thought that stealing you away and giving you everything you've ever wanted would be a blow to us." He paused. "I suppose I just do not understand. I cannot remember a time before you served us. Surely, you've always wanted to be free."

"Yes. But I love you and your brothers and I have been loyal to you all my life. It was not a choice." He nodded, kept staring at the way the wind made the water ripple. "Why have you done this, Ubbe?" she asked, her voice a groan. "Why free me?"

He shrugged, like it meant nothing. Like it hadn't invoked a debt that Dagny would never be able to repay. "It was the right thing to do."

"Was it?" Dagny's only thought was not relief at freedom or wonder at the things to come. It was of Ivar and Hvitserk, coming off the boats and noticing something different. It was of the dynamics of every relationship she had forged changing into something potentially unrecognizable. Asdis had always secretly believed that Hvitserk would one day free Dagny and marry her, once Ubbe had settled down. But Ivar, as he so often was, would be unknown. Perhaps Sigurd was right and he liked someone trapped, forced to listen to him.

"If anyone has a problem with it, they will have to take it up with me." Ubbe turned and arched a brow at her. She actually smiled back, which seemed so unsympathetic when Aslaug was dead and life was uncertain. But Ubbe had that way about him, comfort and ease and things not actually being so bad. "So Ivar gave you an axe."

Dagny was still smiling when she said, "He did."

Ubbe looked out at the lake once more and she saw from the stern set of his mouth that he was thinking much the same thing she was. Perhaps, they should say nothing of this and take it no further. Even sitting here now, it was difficult not to think of his hands in her hair and his mouth on her skin.

"I know you do not care much for Margrethe," he started, "but she's not a liar. What if he'll never be able to do it, Dagny? He will not father children, he will not be able to please you. And you are free now, so you must think of marriage."

"I think, Ubbe, that I can prove Margrethe wrong," she replied. "And if I can't, that does not bother me either."

He smiled at her, proud, but it did not reach his eyes.

Dagny knew she should say no when he offered her help getting undressed but she was forced to accept it. She was so sore that the thought of reaching behind her to undo the gown actually nauseated her. But he untied the knot he'd placed at the top of her dress just last night wordlessly. When he had loosened the ties enough for her to shed the gown with ease, he turned his back and headed into the woods. Dagny was grateful for it, sure that Ubbe would never stand in the forest, pushing branches away to catch a glimpse of her unclothed. Of course, he had seen her before. More than seen her. So perhaps it did not matter.

But Ivar would look. Dagny felt sure he already had, probably more than once.

The water was cool enough that her stitches did not reopen, which had partially been her intent on picking the lake in the woods. Neither she nor Ubbe needed any cuts to start bleeding profusely once more.

Beneath the water, Dagny expected to remember the day before in all its madness. She thought the image of the silver-haired shieldmaiden might flash before her or of Aslaug sinking to her knees, arrow in her back. But all she thought of was Ivar and his hungry mouth and how he might actually be proud of her for killing.

When she finally made her way back to shore, she stumbled onto the land like some sea creature finally given legs. Ubbe had left out a tunic and a pair of pants for her. Dagny recognized them as Hvitserk's, since the tunic was green with reddish-orange embroidery at the neck. For a moment, she thought about questioning it and assumed it was a mistake. But once they were on and firmly belted, she appreciated Ubbe's forethought.

He emerged from the woods moments later, grinning, apparently having listened to her struggling to get dressed for the last 15 minutes.

"It is not funny," Dagny said, slinging her wet hair behind her, "and I had plenty of other things to wear."

"You own four dresses," Ubbe replied and pulled his tunic over his head. Dagny found it vaguely mesmerizing. "One of which was completely ruined yesterday."

"I own more than four dresses," she muttered under her breath.

"Besides, it becomes you." He gestured at her before pulling his boots off. She felt heat rise to her face.

Dagny did not have the energy nor did she really possess the ability to walk into the forest as Ubbe had. Instead she sat on the stone by the water, her back turned, as Ubbe undressed fully. Her fingers were shaking as she put them to her face. What did any of this matter now? She had killed someone, whether in the thralls of war or not, and yet the thought of turning around to see Ubbe was what made her uneasy. She should be proud, as Asdis had always been. Ubbe was coveted. He was generous and caring and he had done her the favor she'd asked.

"I don't care," he called.

"You don't care about what?" she responded, smoothing her hair out so that it would dry quickly.

"If you look at me." His voice was low now and there was a slick slap against the rock as his arm came to rest beside her. She steeled herself, closed her eyes and counted, before finally turning around. Ubbe's head was resting on his crossed arms, everything below his shoulders mercifully covered by the stone.

"Did you look at me?" Dagny smiled, even though it made the bruise on her cheek ache.

"What if I did?" The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. She was unsure of what to believe. In the next instant, he splashed her, water dotting Hvitserk's green tunic. "I am only joking."

Dagny grinned at him again and turned away. She did not let herself think of what it meant, this strange conversation. Instead she focused on Lagertha's words, still humming through her. It had been exhilarating to fight with Astrid, though it had been fought only through instinct. It had been better to be told she had a talent for it. The thought of Lagertha's name alone tugged at some lonely part of her that believed Aslaug had been gravely wronged, that Ivar would never forgive what happened and neither should she. But anger did not blind Dagny to ability or legend, it did not blind her to praise.

"Are you ready?" Ubbe's voice cut through the haze of her thoughts. He was already dressed, still brilliant beneath all the bruising and swelling.

"Yes," she replied and took his arm when he gave it to her. Uncomfortably standing by the horse, Dagny pulled out a jar from her bag. "We should put the medicine on while we're still rather clean." And hidden beneath the branches of the forest.

Ubbe nodded once and took the jar from her. He bent to one knee and rolled up the leg of her pants to reveal the gash on her calf. It was hard to believe that it had looked worse yesterday. Dagny bit back a groan when he put the salve atop the stitches. Then he stood. She met his gaze. He lifted the edge of her tunic and Dagny did not look away.

Ubbe rubbed the salve across her ribs, along the cut and around it. Though its pain was meaningless compared to everything else, she still felt relief hum through her at the medicine. When Ubbe had performed this same duty for her last night, with Sigurd uncharacteristically embarrassed and turning away, his hands had been shaking. They were not shaking now.

Dagny knew she shouldn't but when he was done, she took his hand and placed it on her cheek. It needed the salve too, she told herself. But truly, she just wanted to watch him, to see the look in his pale eyes. And indeed, it was something to see, that strange expression of wishing and want.

He took a step closer and his thumb brushed the cut on her cheekbone with such tenderness that Dagny leaned in. Calm swam through her veins. When he finally pulled away, she almost regretted it.

Dagny took the salve and ran it over the cut above his eye. Ubbe groaned but closed his eyes in mock pleasure.

"I have another favor to ask of you, Ubbe," she murmured and he smiled. Dagny thought his image should be engraved onto burnished gold coins.

"I will do whatever you ask," he responded, eyes still closed. Her hand locked, fingers still close enough to touch his face. He was the first person to ever say anything like that to her. Dagny wanted to lock it away somewhere, a place she could visit whenever she wanted.

"Would you train me?" she responded and her voice filled with such longing that she knew Ubbe would not refuse.

"Train you?" His eyes fluttered open and her hand fell. "Is that something you really want?"

"Yes. It is." In truth, Dagny had no idea what she wanted. She still believed she should be a healer, she still wished for a warm home and hearth, like Ubbe apparently wanted. But she also knew that yesterday, she had felt powerful. And in Kattegat, there was no reason to believe that she could not have both.

"Of course, I'll train you. I will train you in everything. But it will not be easy." Dagny grinned, no stranger to hard work. "And some people are not built for war. You may come to find that you are one of them."

Dagny had a feeling, deep down, that he was probably correct.

The first order of business was taking Dagny to the tailor, where she was measured for clothing far finer than anything she had owned before. Dresses, tunics, pants. And finally, she was taken to the armorer, who fit her for mail and a leather breastplate.

Until her leg got better, Ubbe focused on training her in two ways; riding and archery. Neither did she show much promise at. It took her many days to be able to mount Ubbe's horse on her own, even though the animal did appear taken with her. Plying it with oats seemed to be working.

Once she could mount, she tried riding on her own. Never having ridden in the past, she did not know how much leg pressure to apply or how to hold the reins correctly and more than once, the horse took off at a gallop with Dagny holding on for dear life. Sigurd always laughed and even she had to admit that it was quite funny.

All of this amidst Ubbe telling her how to stand straight and be confident, in looks if not in reality. He also made her eat everything on her plate to build muscle, when often she ate more for dinner now than she had in two or three days as a slave. The first night, it made her sick. But despite the difficulties, the new aches and pains, and the amount of time it consumed, Dagny loved it. She loved when Sigurd laughed at her, she loved the feeling of holding a bow, even if she never hit the target, and she loved being around Ubbe, who was never unkind to her.

"Keep your arm locked," he said now, tapping her on the elbow. They were deep in the forest, in one of the princes' favorite places to spar. Dagny was seated on the stool Ivar normally trained from, a quiver propped against the side of it and a large bow in her arms. It had taken her only a week to build up the strength in her arms to pull the bowstring back, something that had apparently surprised Ubbe because he clapped her on the neck the first time she achieved it. Feeling like she impressed him made most tasks more bearable.

"Perhaps, I am not good at archery," she replied, angling her neck so that the fletching of the arrow just brushed her cheek. She was aiming for the head of a stag, for the bridge between its eyes. Once, years ago, Ivar had been aiming for a similar target and Dagny had been sent to fetch all the weapons and arrows that hadn't made it that far. When she stood, Ivar loosed an arrow. It was so close that it actually lifted her hair. Ubbe had raged but Ivar only looked at Dagny, wanting to know if he'd scared her. It was a test and one she apparently passed because when she complimented him on the shot, he smiled.

"You just need more practice," Ubbe said, leaning in from behind and making sure her arms were in the right place. "And to make sure that you keep this elbow locked." He tapped her again, laughing, and Dagny felt his breath on her neck.

"I will never make a clean shot if you continue to distract me."

"There will be distractions on the battlefield." His voice was low and his hands came down to frame her waist. She kept her arms steady by sheer will.

"Not like you," she muttered and loosed the arrow. It flew through the stag's antlers, barely grazing the top of its head. Dagny sighed and brought the bow down.

"You should breathe with it. Fire on an exhale." Ubbe let her go and stood to her side.

"I have tried this many times, Ubbe. I will never be a gifted archer. Let me try with the axe." He sighed then and looked down at her.

"I know you can throw an axe and you can throw it well. But archery is an important skill and it is one I expect you to excel at. It requires patience and thought and-"

"And being far away from the main fighting." Dagny stared up at him, expected him to push back, but Ubbe only crossed his arms and gave her what she now termed the big-brother look, the perfect mix of disappointment and authority.

"Your leg will take weeks to heal properly. This is something you can do sitting down."

"I could fight with a sword sitting down too. Or a shield."

"You're not strong enough to carry a shield yet." That was true enough. The only time she had tried to pick one up, she immediately slouched beneath its weight. She could not hold it up for more than a few minutes, let alone a battle. But still, she wanted to try.

"You are right," she allowed and Ubbe grinned. He put his hand to her face, thumb grazing the scar Astrid had given her, and Dagny knew what was coming from that alone. He bent down and kissed her, close lipped and quick. It made her skin tingle from head to toe. "What was that for?"

"For luck," he replied.

Dagny drew another arrow from the quiver, fingers trembling, and nocked it. She had not kissed Ubbe since that evening weeks ago and she thought he had forgotten what he said to her the next day; that she could not learn in one night. She knew it was stupid and foolish but Ubbe was kind and they were friends. Best friends, she thought, which was a concept she'd had no knowledge of until Sigurd mentioned it. That she and Ubbe did everything together, that they shared jokes and had beds adjacent to one another and spent their days cloistered in the forest laughing and training. Though he would deny it, Dagny thought Sigurd had said it in jealousy. Tomorrow she would invite him to train.

She let the arrow fly, on outward breath, and again it flew between the antlers.

"I think you need more luck," Ubbe said beside her.

And gods help her, she replied, "I do."

He kissed her again, this time openmouthed, and Dagny's grip on the bow tightened until she was sure there was a permanent imprint of her hand.

She was breathless the next time she nocked an arrow. Once loosed, it wedged itself in the left temple of the stag.

Ubbe's hand ruffled her hair and she pushed at his hip until he staggered away in mock pain. Dagny laughed. "Was that good enough for you?" she asked.

He responded by dropping to his knees in front of her. His hand slid up her good leg, bringing her skirt with it, and suddenly he was pressing his lips to the inside of her calf, the inside of her thigh.

Dagny wanted to ask what he was doing but then, frankly, she wanted him to do whatever he desired.

From then on, she did indeed invite Sigurd to go with them, partially out of selfish fear that training would devolve into rolling in the flowers with Ubbe. There was a pull in it that Dagny foolishly believed wouldn't be there when she asked the eldest prince for this favor. She hoped it was born of nothing but friendship on her part. Ubbe could be a skald, the way he made her believe that it meant something to him, that part of him had always found her somewhat desirable. But she saw his eyes go to Margrethe whenever they passed each other. It did not matter because Dagny's eyes would always go to Ivar. She just did not want to sacrifice the bond they now had over something so thoughtless.

Sigurd did not much care for archery, particularly since Dagny was now able to hit an unmoving target. So he raced her on horseback through the meadows while Ubbe cheered her on and he gave her a sword to spar with. It was the length of her torso and blunted so that no real harm could be done.

He made her do the easiest exercises until she could perform them with her eyes closed. He was the one that made her pick her up a shield. She tried a little with it every day until she built up enough stamina to either carry it on her back or keep it on her arm for hours at a time. Most evenings, her arms were shaking when they finished. Sigurd said that was a good thing, would tap her on the arm with the side of his sword, and give her a knowing look, something that told her he knew all her fears, had seen Ubbe's yearning and Dagny's failing fight with desire. It said to tread carefully and while Dagny had always been a cautious girl, she knew he was right.

Because when Sigurd left early, as he always did, it was back to just she and Ubbe. She did not mind this, never had, because even with the thought of kissing his throat and his knuckles and the skin beneath his ear, there was something comforting about being around him. He did not make her feel inadequate or untalented, even though she was certain she was. Instead, he made her feel valued and special and like a regular girl, not one who had ever served his family. For someone who those feelings were new to, there was such significance in that that Dagny could not help attaching at least some positive thought to him.

And when Ubbe would sit by her on the forest floor after a rough day of training and their chests were heaving and sweat dotted their brows, Dagny would let her fingers creep towards his. It always started this way and she lied to herself, pretending that nothing would come of it. But Ubbe would cut his eyes, eyes so ludicrously blue that Dagny could see why girls in town would barely let him walk freely down the street, and he would lean over, so close that her skin would prickle. Then it was slow, languorous kissing along jaws and collarbones with fingers grabbing handfuls of fabric and hair.

In the cabin Lagertha had allowed them, Dagny's bed faced Ubbe's. In the night, he would often turn to face her. This was a curse, one that was supplemented by wearing Hvitserk's tunics and having Ivar's axe beneath her mattress. Why, she wondered, could nothing be simple? Why could nothing be as she thought?

She could stand on her leg fairly well after a few weeks. This was a boon to Sigurd, who never went easy on her, just slammed the full weight of his body against her shield and knocked her down. Dagny bore that as best as she could and pretended it did not bother her, which was key with Sigurd. If he could not have proof that he had wedged his way under your skin, he would eventually stop. After days of this, seemingly ceaselessly, he would hit her just as hard but she could stand against it more firmly. At the end of one day, Dagny lying on her back in the dirt from another of Sigurd's famous charges, he offered her a hand and in his eyes, she saw something she had been striving for all this time; his approval.

"What's between you and Ubbe?" Sigurd asked on a rare day that Ubbe wasn't with them, bringing an axe down onto Dagny's yellow shield. She felt the blow reverberate up her arm. It set her teeth to chattering.

"What do you mean?" She pushed at him with the shield but it was pointless. Her leg was still not completely healed and she could not put her full weight into anything.

"You know what I mean." The edge of the axe hooked the shield and Sigurd pulled it. Dagny stumbled, tried to put all she had into a heavy push, but he managed to keep them there, locked. They were so close that she could finally see that split in his pupil, why they called him snake-in-the-eye. "I know what you do out here. I'm not a fool."

Dagny gave way just a smidge. Her feet slid back. "I don't care what you know, Sigurd. I thought we made a pact not to speak of these things."

He scoffed. "What pact was that? You and I exchanging a look in a dark hallway is nothing."

"Then you do not care if people know who you bed." Color ran into his cheeks. He unhooked the axe and kicked her shield. Dagny hit the ground unceremoniously.

"Do you know where Ubbe is right now?" She groaned, letting the shield fall away from her.

"No, I don't." She stood, unbalanced, and brushed herself off.

"He's with Margrethe on the beach. I am sure he's selling her the same dreams he sold you."

Dagny was deadly calm, the ocean before a storm. "I have no quarrel with Margrethe," she said, pausing between each word. "And I am free now."

"Oh yes, you are free now," Sigurd replied with a smirk. "How dare I forget."

"What is your problem with me, Sigurd? How have I angered you? What have I done to earn your scorn?" For a moment, they just looked at one another. "This is all about Ivar. I am not a fool either."

"Unfortunately, neither is he. I don't know what break in your sanity caused you to cast your eyes on Ubbe but you should remedy that before the raiders return. I can't imagine it is something that will please Hvitserk either."

Dagny felt her nostrils flare. "It is none of your concern but Ubbe is teaching me so that I do not disappoint your brothers."

Sigurd snorted. "So that Ivar does not strangle you, more likely."

She did not dignify that with a response. "There is nothing between Ubbe and I and I do not care who knows about it." A lie. "We are friends. He is my closest friend."

"Friends do not do the things you do. They don't look at each other that way."

"In what way?" Dagny's voice lowered. Part of her genuinely didn't know. She did look at Ubbe, just not like she looked at Hvitserk. Not like she looked at Ivar.

Sigurd sighed and the expression on his face made her think he felt sorry for her. "We can make the pact now." He extended a hand and Dagny clasped his forearm.

"I would never have said anything about you," she muttered.

"I know." She went to pick back up her shield and Sigurd said, "Just be careful, Dagny. You are playing a dangerous game."

"I'm going to tell them. I'm not going to keep it secret."

He shook his head. "Perhaps, you shouldn't mention it."

Barely a day later, Dagny sat with Ubbe on the stone by the lake. It was early in the morning so that they could avoid the eyes of Lagertha's shieldmaidens, who had taken to wanting to watch the princes do everything. She could not blame them, when Ubbe and Sigurd were obviously training her.

"Do you feel any different?" Ubbe asked. She turned and cocked her head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"Now that you're free."

"I feel… healthier." Ubbe's mouth split into a grin. "The sleep is much better. But I am still working from sun up to sundown so some things have not changed."

"Things will change when my brothers return." There was a long moment of silence and then, "What do you want, Dagny?"

"Right now?"

"Out of life. Do you want to be married? Do you want to farm? Or do you want to be like Ivar and fight all your days?"

"I… don't know. I suppose I haven't really given it much thought. What do you want?"

"The best of everything. I want to marry a woman I love and I want to raid and I want to have children that I can watch grow up in a small house with a warm hearth."

Dagny let out a breath. "That sounds nice."

"It will be."

"Do you know what I want?" Ubbe turned and shook his head, interested. "I want to be friends with you for all my life. Promise me that it will be true," she said because Sigurd's words were a fire within her, something burning in her core. Ubbe raised an eyebrow, the idea of them separating utterly preposterous.

"Of course, we will always be friends. What is the alternative? Enemies?" Ubbe scoffed. "You and I will be friends until death and I hope we will be friends even after."

He nudged her and Dagny tilted her head back, letting herself laugh. But wind rippled through the air, dousing the summer heat, and a chill crept up her spine. Ubbe kissed her and tossed her into the lake and all the while, she felt that chill. Do not let it be true, she pleaded beneath the water. Do not let us turn against each other.

The horns sounded, so loud that even deep in the forest their boom could be heard. "Ships," Ubbe and Dagny realized at the same time. She was the first to claw her way of the water because Dagny knew, in the same way she knew many things, that Ivar was aboard one of those boats.