A/N: I wasn't planning on coming back to this yet, but the season premiere inspired me. :)

Siggy cursed the day she first laid eyes upon Rollo. He had brought upon her nothing but sorrow and heartache. And now he had brought her a girl to care for.

A girl, she scoffed to herself.

The wretched creature in front of her was no more a girl than Siggy herself, well into her childbearing years. One only had to look at her to see that. Though a bit thin, she had the gentle curves of a woman, which her strange garments made no effort to hide. And though her appearance was youthful, with smooth skin and hair that shone like burnished gold, it was more likely a testament to her station in life; for Siggy also saw the delicately wrought jewelry that adorned the girl's neck.

Then there was the hammer she carried, which now rested against the wall within arm's reach. No child could wield such a weapon; Siggy only had to remember Rollo's look of bewildered awe at it to know it to be true.

Siggy was not ashamed to admit it. She both envied and feared the girl. She may have even hated her, if not for the utter despair in the girl's eyes.

Oh, she disguised it well. Siggy might not have seen it at all, if she had not witnessed a similar look from Rollo when he had returned from Götaland, imprisoned after his betrayal of Ragnar. See it she did, though, and she could not help but be moved by it. It was that pity that had her acquiesce to Rollo's pleas to take in the waif when she should have turned them both away.

Siggy sighed. There was nothing to be done about it now. Indeed, she had thrown her lot in with Rollo long ago. This was merely another drop of water in the ocean. Rollo had entrusted the foundling to her, making her promise to keep her safe, and she would not betray him.

The gods only knew how the rest of Kattegat would receive her, though, one clearly not from these lands who did not speak their language. Athelstan had certainly not fared well. It was only Ragnar's friendship that spared the priest from being cast out - or worse. Even now, there were those who distrusted his Christian ways. Princess Aslaug herself was not warmly welcomed in the beginning, the bonds of the villagers to Lagertha, Ragnar's first wife, too strong, despite Aslaug's lineage and her position as Ragnar's wife and mother of his children.

At that moment, as if she had heard Siggy's thoughts, Aslaug rapped on the outer door and stepped inside.

It was not so surprising. It was rumored that the princess had uncanny abilities.

"Siggy, I-" Aslaug began. She stopped when she spied the girl. "I did not know you had a visitor. Greetings, and welcome. I am Princess Aslaug, wife of Ragnar, Earl of Kattegat."

She looked at the girl expectantly, waiting for her to recognize her as was befitting, but girl said nothing; she simply stared back at the princess.

Siggy squared her shoulders. She had hoped for some more time to prepare for such a meeting. For if Aslaug did not accept the stranger, all was lost.

"Forgive her, Princess. She was found lost and wandering on the beach. I fear she does not speak in our tongue."

Aslaug studied the stranger; not with hostility but with genuine curiosity. What she saw, Siggy did not know; only that, after a moment, the princess gave a gasp of surprise.

"She is different," she said. At Siggy's look of distress, Aslaug smiled. "You mistake my meaning. What is her name?"

Siggy grit her teeth at this, distracted from the task of puzzling out the princess' words. She knew full well what Rollo had called her.

Solveig. Daughter of the sun.

Siggy refused to utter it.

Aslaug was not deterred. Moving closer to the girl, she pointed to herself. "Aslaug," she said.

Then she gestured to Siggy and said her name, before moving back to herself and saying her own name once more.

The girl understood. Holding her head up, she spoke.

Her name was unlike anything Siggy had ever heard before. Though she had no hopes of pronouncing it correctly, she did the best she could.

"Bótví."

The girl frowned at her and repeated her name once again.

Siggy held firm, however. 'Bótví' was near enough to what was said. Her real name was much too foreign. It would only bring more attention to her strangeness. Bótví, on the other hand, was a fine Viking name.

And it was not Solveig.

Bótví was a sullen thing. Useless as well, without the slightest skill even in the simplest of tasks, ones a mere child could perform. How she had survived thus far without knowing how to properly stoke a fire, Siggy did not know. And though she showed a willingness to try, Siggy shooed her away from most tasks.

It was not because Siggy wanted to coddle the girl as Aslaug did, or because Bótví lacked the wits to learn. The girl simply did not have the practice required; often, it was easier for Siggy to do something herself than to wait and undo the mess.

With nothing else to do, Bótví spent much of her time walking down the beach or sitting on one of the rocks overlooking the fjord with the most pitiful look on her face.

Siggy assumed Bótví would be alone during this time. Though none of the other villagers gave her much trouble, in no small part to Aslaug's obvious favor, they still kept their space. Therefore, it was quite a shock when Siggy learned that she did not always lack for company.

It was two days after Bótví had first appeared. Siggy had gone down to the beach to fetch her when she heard a terrible clash of swords.

Fear gripping her heart, Siggy raced to the waterfront. Before she could burst forth from the treeline onto the beach, however, she saw something that stopped her - Rollo was there with Bótví, and the two were engaged in heated combat.

Though part of her was angered to know the two of them were there together, she was soon distracted by the fight; for when she had first spied them, it almost appeared as though Bótví was winning, as if she were merely… humoring Rollo. Then Siggy blinked, and suddenly the tide of battle had turned. Now it was Bótví who was defending herself; admirably at that, but it was obvious that she was overmatched. After exchanging a few more blows, Rollo handily disarmed Bótví.

As the sword fell softly onto the sand, Siggy convinced herself that she had only imagined Bótví had the upper hand moments before. She did not understand, however, why Rollo seemed angry at his victory, his breath coming fast as he glowered at her.

Though many a men had crumbled under such a look, Bótví was not bothered in the least. When Rollo spoke, his voice low and ominous like the rumbling crash of thunder, she simply replied with an odd gesture of her finger. It was one Siggy had not seen before, and she was certain Rollo was as unfamiliar with it as she, but its intent was clear. To add further insult, she then waved to Siggy, ignoring Rollo entirely.

Instead infuriating him, as Siggy thought it would, he chuckled with laughter. With a few more words, spoken too low for anyone but Bótví to hear, he gave a small bow, collected the swords, and departed, heading for the path where Siggy stood.

He had a look of such delight on his face that it made Siggy roil with jealousy. Her mood did not improve when he brushed by her a moment later with nothing but a nod of greeting before he vanished up the path.

When she looked back at Bótví, however, her resentment vanished. The girl had such a look of calmness about her, a sense of peace, as if the heat of battle had chased away her burdens, however fleetingly.

Siggy did not have the heart to take that from her.

Siggy was well aware that Bótví and Rollo met frequently to spar with one another after that first time.

Initially, she feared what it would lead to. Bótví's fighting ability would be attractive to a man such as Rollo. She only had to think of Lagertha to know that. And it was an area in which Siggy was helpless to compete.

Time in her new environment had not diminished Bótví's looks, either. Though she had tentatively picked at the food put before her for the first few days, she now ate with vigor. With her increase in appetite, she was beginning to fill out into a more comely shape. And while she was no longer dressed in her odd but finely made clothing, she was still quite striking in the sensible woolen dresses Siggy had procured for her.

After observing them quite closely for more than a handful of days, however, Siggy finally realized she had nothing to fear. Bótví showed no interest in Rollo in that regard. There were no coy looks sent his way, no accidental meeting of hands. Never once did she seek Rollo, either, choosing to sit with Siggy and Aslaug over all others.

Rollo, too, did nothing to suggest that he desired her. On the contrary, he gave her a wide berth, except for those times on the beach. He also began to visit Siggy in her bedchamber.

Humming to herself, Siggy fastened her small belt pouch around her waist and pulled her cloak around her shoulders. There was a chill in the air today, and Aslaug wished her and Bótví to pay a visit.

"Come, let us go to Aslaug. She wishes to see you."

Bótví eagerly nodded and stood.

Siggy smiled. She knew it would be no burden to Bótví. Her ability to speak in their tongue was improving daily, particularly when she spent time with Aslaug's boys; for as young ones learning themselves, they spoke in simpler phrases, using the most basic and important words.

As soon as Bótví was ready, they stepped out into the sunlight. Before they could reach Aslaug, however, there was a commotion in the center of the village.

"There are ships in the fjord, bearing the flag of Jarl Borg!"

Siggy felt the blood drain from her face.

Rollo. She had to find Rollo.

With no time to spare, she raced toward Ragnar's old farm, where Rollo was currently staying. She heard Bótví following behind her, chasing after her, but she ignored the girl. She did not have time to try and explain.

When she finally reached the farmhouse, she did not stand on ceremony and instead burst through the front door. She found Rollo next to the hearth, fast asleep, and rushed to his side.

"Rollo!" she exclaimed as she gave him a violent shake.

Rollo was awake within moments. "Siggy? What is the matter, woman?"

"You have to come. Jarl Borg's ships approach!"

With a curse, Rollo leapt to his feet and hurried out the door before Siggy could so much as stand. Determined to follow after him as best she could, she made to leave. In her haste, however, her step faltered and she tripped.

There was a giant crack! as her foot came into sharp contact with a floor plank, which split in two with the momentum of her fall.

Bótví was at her side in an instant, pulling the broken plank away from Siggy as she helped her to her feet.

With no time to worry about repairs, Siggy started to leave once again. She stopped, however, at Bótví's gasp.

It appeared that the plank was not merely loose. There was a space underneath it, one used to hide things - or more specifically, for Athelstan to hide things.

Siggy watched in horror as Bótví pulled a necklace chain from the floor. She recognized it immediately. It was the one Athelstan had worn when he had first been captured by Ragnar. It was a symbol of his faith and of his god. And Bótví was looking at it with complete recognition if not reverence.

Siggy could only hope that it meant Bótví was not a Christian. It would be disastrous otherwise. Now was not the time to dwell on it, though.

She grabbed the necklace and thrust it into her pouch. Then she looked up at Bótví, who looked like she was about to object.

"Not now," Siggy hissed. "We must go."

Though she hesitated for the briefest moment, Bótví soon acquiesced. A moment later, they both were rushing toward the beach.

Rollo was already there and with him, many other villagers. Their eyes were fixed on the horizon, toward the ships that were fast approaching.

"We are under attack."

Rollo's words sent Siggy's heart racing wildly. They were utterly defenseless. Aside from Rollo, their best fighting men were across the sea on a raid in Northumbria. By the number of ships, Jarl Borg's force was a hundred men strong.

There was little time to worry about it, however. The beach erupted in activity as Rollo began barking out orders to everyone, orders no one dared disobey. He stopped when he caught sight of Bótví, however.

In three large strides, he was standing before her, less than an arm's length away. He pointed to the ships, then back to the people on the beach, who were already assembling their arms, and finally to her.

"Will you fight?"

Though the details of the situation was beyond her, it seemed she understood the urgency, the terror of the people around her. Still, Bótví hesitated.

Though they did not have a moment to waste, Rollo pressed her once again. "We need you. I need you."

In that moment, Siggy felt her heart drop, for she spied something in Rollo's eye she had not seen before. If Bótví saw it, it did not affect her, for she still said nothing, unmoved by his plea.

Frustrated, Rollo turned to leave, his mind already preparing for the battle before him. Before he could take a step, however, Bótví reached out and touched his wrist.

"I fight."

Though her voice was quiet, her tongue stumbling over the words, she did not waver.

Rollo's face lit with a fierce joy, his eyes bloodthirsty as he looked at Jarl Borg's fast approaching ships.

Bótví's eyes were fastened on Siggy, however, offering her a small, reassuring smile, one that spoke to their blossoming friendship, to the tentative trust they had only begun to build.

It cut Siggy to the bone.

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