Thorunn had not thought she would feel particularly nervous about the night to come until she found herself dressing that evening, having foregone kitchen work since she did not want to get hot and sweaty after their nice bath at the lake. But having a long stretch of time on her hands with little to do was still not anything she could get completely accustomed to. She fiddled with her hair, having left it loose instead of in the practical braids. Her dress was pretty, another gift from Lagertha's handmaiden, dyed a pale blue with white embroidered sleeves and hem. But she fidgeted in the outfit nevertheless. Her room was immaculate, not a thing out of place (though she still owned little enough).

She wondered if Bjorn were going to be in the main hall with his family or if he would be in his rooms waiting for her. She did not want to check the hall and be exposed to the potential ridicule of his youngest brothers, though Ubbe would keep them in line if Bjorn weren't there. Nor did she really want to go to his room. It would be one thing if he came to her. Perhaps they could have specified that. Then all she would have to do was open the door. Although Bjorn's room (and bed) was certainly far the nicer.

Her stomach rumbled. The morning was the last time she'd eaten and now that seemed like it might have been a bad idea.

Well, she would steal into the kitchen and find some bread, at least.

Bjorn was in the great hall which she had to pass through. So were Ubbe, Hvitserk and Margrethe, the latter standing by their table. Thorunn could hardly vanish into the air like one of the Seer's fantastical tricks, but she longed to.

"Thorunn," Ubbe hailed her heartily, and Bjorn's mouth turned up in a tiny grin. "You look nice," he said, indicating the new dress.

She started to thank him and Margrethe muttered something under her breath along the lines of three-day-old pork masquerading as fresh. It wasn't that quiet, as she'd clearly intended it to be heard. Bjorn looked at Ubbe with a forbidding expression. "Control your woman."

Thorunn felt herself gaping because even though what Margrethe had said was insulting and not called for, she also didn't like the curtness of his rebuttal.

"She's not my woman," Ubbe said, taking a drink.

"Well, one of you, control her, or I'll have her disciplined. No servant will speak that way of a free citizen of Kattegat."

"Come, Margrethe," Hvitserk said, seeming more amused than vexed by his brother's proclamation. "Let us away from these ill-tempered..." he sought for an unflattering word, then saw Bjorn's glower and finished "—persons for more pleasant surroundings." He pulled a reluctant Margrethe away to a far corner and engaged her in conversation there.

Thorunn tried not to let the moment rattle her. She smoothed the front of her dress, self-conscious now.

"You do look nice," Ubbe agreed, giving her a toast with his drink.

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Ubbe."

"Why are you holding a piece of bread?" Bjorn asked.

"I was...hungry."

He stared at her and gestured at the table laden with food.

"I wasn't...very hungry," Thorunn said, lamely, feeling lack-witted. Why couldn't she just say she didn't want to be around anyone? But she didn't want to hurt either man's feelings.

"Where are your parents?" she said, looking around. Come to think of it, she had seen neither Ragnar nor Lagertha lately.

"Visiting Floki." Bjorn patted his leg as an indication that she should sit there. She demurred, and slid on to the bench next to him as a concession. He offered her a rib from the platter and she took it, the scent of the roasted meat appealing now after all. They ate convivially, speaking of events at training and other things. Thorunn was settling in and becoming comfortable with her presence there when Bjorn said abruptly, "Excuse us," and stood up, taking her hand. She rose too, having not been paying attention. Ubbe waved them away with a laugh, and she followed Bjorn down the hall.

"Did we have to leave like that?" she demanded as soon as they were in his rooms.

"Like what?" He slid the bolt across the door.

"You might as well have told him we had to go have sex now."

"Don't we?"

"I can wait a while longer," she said airily.

He sighed and leaned his forehead against the door. "You're a little cruel."

"Am I?" Thorunn thought she might like that. Seeing the other servants be flirtatious had never inspired her to behave similarly, but perhaps she was developing a taste for it. She did like the way Bjorn looked at her when it was hard to tell if he were irritated or attracted, possibly both at the same time.

Bjorn lit some candles, she assumed as a practical concession to it being too hot to keep a fire going, and the room subsequently darkening. "Do you want something to drink?" She hadn't had any with dinner and he'd probably noticed.

"No, thank you."

He came over to her, leaving a foot of space between their bodies. "Do you want to talk?"

"No."

Bjorn took her hand and raised her palm up in the air against his. She had long fingers, but his still dwarfed hers. They looked at their entwined hands.

She brought his hand to the front of her dress to untie the laces. He obliged until it was slipping off her shoulders and falling to the ground. Then that wasn't fair, so she helped him with his shirt, and soon they were on the bed, kissing again.

"I think you should be quick," she whispered in his ear, between kisses. He drew back and scanned her face. "They say it's not the nicest, the first time."

"You're here all night," he breathed back. "We don't have to be quick."

And he took his time—he was gentle, except up until the last few moments, and she understood there was something about those that he could not really be, just then. And she was right, there was discomfort, but also, a burgeoning sense of power that caught her quite by surprise. Since she hadn't known what to expect, she was neither disappointed nor elated, but aware that this could possibly become a satisfying thing, given more practice.

"You're heavy," she whispered, poking him.

"Sorry." He rolled to the side, settling her in the crook of his arm, pulling furs up around their hips. He dropped kisses on her forehead and murmured things in her ear to make her smile. Thorunn fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Over the next few weeks, Thorunn came to realize that Margrethe's jealousy (if that was what it was) was becoming something of a problem. At first, there were a few small things that might have been coincidence—a few minor inconveniences here or there. Even when she suspected Margrethe had been snooping in her room and going through her closet, Thorunn chose to look the other way. But when one morning she went to wash her face with the pitcher water and found a drowned mouse, she knew it was the girl. But what to do? She didn't know that confronting her would necessarily effect any change, as Margrethe had shown she had nothing but scorn for her, and that wouldn't have altered materially simply by Thorunn's gaining her freedom. Telling Bjorn, which she was next tempted to do, seemed like the absolute last resort, as she was certain he would insist on some form of punishment, which would only make things worse. If the girl could be sent away from the great hall at least, if not from Kattegat completely, that would be an easy solution, but Hvitserk still appeared to be fond of her and would likely not brook such a decision.

In the end, she confided in Ubbe who she felt would be more rational about the whole thing. She'd asked him to meet her down by the docks, thinking it was a public enough place that no one should side-eye them, but also unlikely that Margrethe herself would be skulking about. Now, having discussed the situation, they were sitting in companionable silence on one of the docks, looking out at the bay of Kattegat, the mountains serene in the evening mist.

"Well," Ubbe said. "Other than that, how are you and my brother?"

"I believe we are...quite well." Thorunn blushed. They weren't getting as much sleep now, that was certain. Having gotten acclimated to each other's needs and expectations, they had managed to find a balance of intimacy both physical and, to a lesser degree, emotional. Neither of them were hugely inclined to talk at length to each other about anything in general, so a lot of their time together was spent in quiet, but affection.

"And he treats you well?"

"Did you doubt he would?"

Ubbe shrugged and tossed a bit of deck debris into the water. "Oh, well, our big brother can be a bear, sometimes."

"He is very gentle with me," Thorunn allowed. "Even in training, still."

"Oh, he won't hurt you, I didn't doubt that."

"What then?"

Ubbe rubbed the back of his neck. "I wonder sometimes if he has our father's wandering eye."

Thorunn scoffed. "Don't you all have your father's wandering eye? Indeed don't all men?"

"It may seem so to women," he agreed. "But not all of us are greedy."

He sounded a touch wistful and Thorunn covered his hand, or tried to, with her own. "I told you before that you are a good man, Ubbe. And I also believe that you will find the right person for you. Hopefully soon if that is what you want."

He stirred, restless, and she moved her hand away. They continued to gaze out over the water until they were hailed from the beach. Bjorn jumped up on the docks, sending reverberations as he walked to them. "Here you both are."

Thorunn twisted around and held up a hand to him. If they'd been alone he might have bent to kiss it, but not outside. She smiled.

"You both look somber."

"We want it to be spring," Thorunn said, inventing a reason on the spot, although in her case it was true.

"What's happening in spring?" he said, as if he didn't know.

"Raiding, of course."

"You can't wait to send me off?"

She blinked at him, feeling her smile fade. Ubbe exchanged glances with her and his brother.

She took her hand back. "I wasn't...planning on sending you off."

He stared at her for a moment and then gave a short laugh, not in mockery but surprise. "You didn't think you were coming?"

Thorunn felt heat rising along her neck. Why did he have to sound so incredulous? "Of course I did. Ubbe, tell him I'm ready."

"I think she is ready," Ubbe told Bjorn almost apologetically.

"I don't really care who thinks you're ready," Bjorn said, his voice tightening, "except me."

He was not even speaking particularly high-handedly, just as if it were a matter of fact, but Thorunn felt her soul tighten and shrivel in aggravation nevertheless. She stuck her tongue in the corner of her cheek and considered making her position clear, or was it better to wait until the time came? "I will keep working," she said, lifting her head smoothly, "and you will see that I am ready."

Bjorn made a noncommittal sound that was neither accord nor disagreement. "Sigurd said he saw you down here. I just came to see if you both were coming back for dinner."

"We may," Thorunn replied, determined to hang on to the power she had. If Ubbe wanted to leave, he was welcome to, but she would not. He glanced at her rather uneasily, sensing the unspoken potential discord between her and his brother. Of course Sigurd had been watching their doings, the little weasel. Maybe he was trying to get in good with Margrethe too. Honestly. Thorunn despaired that men could be so easily led around.

Bjorn nodded. He looked like he might say something more, then closed his mouth and walked away. Which was as well, because if he had stayed much longer Thorunn would have been tempted to push him into the water.

"I see you haven't talked about raiding yet," Ubbe said.

"We will talk about it again," she burst out. "He will know he cannot leave me behind. That was never my plan, to sit at home having babies and stirring the soup. Not once I was free. Lagertha sees the strength in me. Why can't he?"

Ubbe scratched his nose, probably taken aback at the torrent of words all at once. "You don't want to have Bjorn's children?"

"Don't you dare say so to anyone," she rounded on him. "Anyone's children. I've seen how much trouble they are. How often they kill their mothers just coming into the world! Look at your own poor mother."

"Ivar was difficult," Ubbe began.

"And I know, Ubbe, I know I could not be a mother to—" She hesitated. "Someone cursed by the gods."

"Like you believe my brother is?" His tone was neutral, not letting Thorunn know if he was offended by such words or not.

"I don't know what to think. People feel differently about him. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry if I was rude." She spoke rapidly.

"It's good that you're honest," Ubbe said, "and it's nice that you trust me, but I think Bjorn probably wants to have children with you, so perhaps you should talk about that."

"I do not want to talk about it. Or do it."

"Well, it might happen," Ubbe began reasonably, and she had to resist the childish urge to cover her ears with her hands. "Even if you had children, you could still be a shieldmaiden. Some women do."

"Some," she said, a little bitterly. "If they survive. And even then, not many. Promise me, Ubbe."

"What?"

"That you will not say any of this to Bjorn. That you will not reveal we spoke of such things."

"All right, I promise. But I think you should consider—"

"Please, Ubbe."

He put up hands.

"Thank you."

"Bjorn doesn't want to watch you get hurt, Thorunn. Neither do I."

"I know that."

His stomach rumbled, opportunely. She waved him away. "Go have dinner."

"Are you coming?"

"No, I want to stay a little."

He gave her a shoulder tap and left her there on the dock to think.

As another month passed Bjorn grew aware that Thorunn's behaviour towards him had altered marginally, and he wasn't stupid; it happened after their brief conversation at the docks when he'd said he didn't want her going on the raids. Well, of course he didn't want her. She'd only scratched the surface of what it meant to be a warrior, and even if he, Bjorn Ironside, advocated for her inclusion he'd be putting out plenty of men who had arguably better claims to be on the boats than she did. Kattegat's society was necessarily fair as possible and not always ruled by the whims of Ragnar, although there were times when that could be the case too.

And although she'd promised him the nights, and they were still having sex, that had changed too; several times in a fortnight she would claim solitude in her own small room, which she maintained that she needed, and it seemed brutish to insist she do otherwise. As for the sex it had decreased in quantity, though not for any particular reason that he could see and certainly not due to his own preferences. He had no issue with her wanting space from him during her monthly bleeding, but it did not seem necessarily aligned with that either.

Things weren't wrong, they just weren't as pleasant as they had been in the beginning, and he was practical enough to simply accept that as the way it probably had to be. Thorunn didn't seem to want to discuss anything with him, so he let it lie as well.

He had approached Ubbe once to ask if there was anything he knew either from the conversation that night or since then, but Ubbe maintained that he had no special knowledge of their relationship and that Bjorn should ask Thorunn herself if there were something she wanted to share, which was completely unhelpful. Presumably, if she wanted to share something she would have done so by now.

So the summer stretched into fall and the fall into winter. Kattegat entered its dormancy period again; most of the townspeople ate less, drank more and retired to bed earlier. The winter nights were cold and long, with plenty of time for stories and carousing around warm fires.

Thorunn's small room had no fireplace and thus she had not retired there for some time now; it was near the edge of the building and drafty. Bjorn's room was far more comfortable, since he kept the fire going well day and night, liking the heat. They were sitting together one such winter night. Thorunn was quiet, but she was always quiet. She was at work patching some clothing, a task Bjorn thought unnecessary when there were plenty of others to do it, but she preferred to look after their things herself, including washing and mending. Bjorn himself was carving a baby rattle, though he hadn't said that's what it was, and Thorunn hadn't asked about it. He'd only taken it up when Lagertha had said something casually earlier that week about wondering when she might expect to hear of grandchildren on the way. Bjorn had told her that she'd be next to find out after he did, but Thorunn remained mute on the subject, and her stomach remained flat as far as he could tell. He didn't think it was time to be concerned; it had only been a few months. But he couldn't deny it would be nice to have her comfortably pregnant and relatively immobile by the time the spring raids began, so he was carving the baby rattle to display to show the gods that they were ready to be blessed.

He'd learned carving at Floki's side but had not his skill, of course; no one could match the master boatbuilder and woodworker, and this piece was giving him a little trouble: sized to fit a tiny infant hand, it was finicky work. Thorunn seemed similarly occupied with her sewing, although her mind may well have been elsewhere.

He set the knife down for a moment, having just given himself a small cut. The blade needed sharpening again.

Thorunn looked up as he'd muttered a quiet expletive. "You cut yourself?"

"It's nothing," he said, putting the back of his hand to his mouth. "You could probably do more damage with that needle."

Thorunn wielded the bone instrument like a miniature sword. He smiled. They hadn't had much...well, fun in their relationship lately. Not that he blamed her for that. It was just that there was no more lazing under the sun, dips in the lake, impromptu picnics up the mountainside. An idea occurred to him, a diversion. "Want to go to the cabin?"

"Where is that?" She resumed her work, expressionless.

"Few hours' walk north. Father goes there when he needs to think. It's quiet."

"It's not especially noisy here," she objected.

"There's always someone around." Brothers, goats, dogs, chickens, Bjorn thought. He'd been to the cabin on his own plenty a time before, and always enjoyed the silence. Maybe Thorunn would like it too. Maybe, gods be good, he could even get her to smile again. Maybe she was expecting and that accounted for what seemed to be her lower mood.

"If you like," she said after another few moments, far more indifferently than he would have preferred. "When shall we go?"

"Tomorrow, if you can be ready. There are supplies already up there but we'll have to bring food unless I want to hunt."

"Unless we want to hunt," she corrected.

He'd just assumed she didn't want to, so he grunted in assent.

The grey skies were pleasantly clear the following afternoon when they left Kattegat, bearing a pack of supplies each, but as the hours wore on and as they trekked further north, the snow began to fly. By the time Bjorn was pushing open the front door of the cabin, the snow had encrusted their fur cloaks into sheets of sparkling white. Thorunn dusted herself off and looked around the small space.

Bjorn set about getting the fire going at once. Everything needed—stones, tinder and wood—was already at hand, so it wasn't a lengthy endeavour, and soon the flames were banishing the worst of the chill away. Thorunn had pulled up one of the carved chairs to the fireside and was warming her hands and toes by it. They supped on some toasted bread, just to restore energy after the hike.

The cabin walls were festooned with the prizes of his father and brothers' hunts over the years; pelts, hides, bones, antlers and teeth, along with many a spiderweb. Thorunn pointed one or two of the most unusual finds and Bjorn told her the stories of how and where they had been captured. If the snow stopped by the morning, he told her, they would go out on their own hunt and get at least a rabbit or other small coney for their midday meal.

Thorunn seemed to be relaxed once the air had warmed to a easily tolerable degree and the cabin had darkened, leaving only firelight to cast shadows on the timber walls, and eventually Bjorn approached her, looking for some affection. She responded to his advances but with more dutifulness than anything, and eventually he pulled back, holding her at arms' length. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, but lying. He wasn't stupid, even if he didn't always know what was going on with a woman (and really, who could).

He made a skeptical face. "I don't want to do this if you don't want to."

"Bjorn, you're a man," she said, suddenly sounding irritated. "It is never going to be the same with you as it is with us."

"You never said that before," he answered, affronted by her tone. "What's changed?"

"I'm just tired," she said, fretfully. "I'm tired. I don't like the winters. I don't like the darkness."

"No one likes the darkness. That's why we—" he gestured. "Do things to make ourselves feel alive."

"Go ahead," she said.

He stared stubbornly at her. With an invitation like that he wasn't going anywhere. In a gesture clearly designed more to mollify him than an expression of desire, Thorunn moved back into his arms and took his hand, placing it on her breast. For a moment he wanted to spurn her, to reject her as he felt she had already rejected him, in spirit if not in body, but it had been days, and his self-control suddenly wasn't sufficient. He half-carried her to the bed, stumbling over their intertwined legs a couple of times, pulling off clothing here and there, and it was too cold not to become connected almost at once.

The interaction was quick and physically satisfying but after, hearts mutually pounding, he slid off and muttered, "I didn't like that."

"That's not what it sounded like," she said, coolly.

Holding her, Bjorn lay in quiet vexation, wondering how it was possible to have someone so close against you, yet feel so far from them.

Worse, he had no idea how he was supposed to fix it.

Spring finally came, and with it, Thorunn's mood improved considerably. The turpitude of the winter, along with the lack of constant purpose and tasks for the first time, had dragged her along with it to some degree. Now she found herself wanting to get out of bed once first light hit, and thinking almost constantly of the upcoming raids. Talk was centered towards that now again in the village, in homes and in the great hall. It was said that Ragnar wanted to return to England along the coast they had originally landed two years past. Beyond that not much was known of his plans. Bjorn might have known more details, but he was unforthcoming on discussions of the journey, not to the point of rudeness, just so that Thorunn understood it was not something about which he cared to talk at length, even when she was subtle. Things were a bit better between them now, although they hadn't really returned to the ease of the early days of their relationship from the previous summer. Thorunn did not feel the appetite for sex that she once had, possibly more so because of the fear of pregnancy than for any other reason now, but she gamely participated in their encounters in order to keep Bjorn at least content. She felt she owed him that much. The rest of the time, she spent training and taking up the sword and the axe once more, along with the others.

Margrethe seemed to have ceased her tiny war against Thorunn for the time being; perhaps the time away had done her good. For a while she'd been gone, assisting in the house of an ailing aunt. Whether that had been arranged or was coincidence, Thorunn didn't know and didn't question. Margrethe was back now and mostly subdued and stayed in the shadows.

Thorunn prepared, mentally, for the conversation she knew she was going to have with Bjorn. She waited a few days before the boats were scheduled to leave and most of the warriors were chosen, tacitly or publicly (there were always a few that remained in question, depending on last-minute concerns such as health, the needs of the family they left behind, or perhaps disciplinary/attitude issues that Ragnar might have had with them in the past.)

How to present to Bjorn gave her a night's worry: did she want to enhance her attractiveness to him personally or emphasize her readiness to be a warrior? Did she wear her prettiest dress and fix her hair the way he'd once said he liked it, or did she put on her newly hand-sewn rune-embroidered tunic and leggings and braid her hair close to the scalp to look the part, like Lagertha and the others? She eventually settled for the latter.

He did not comment when he came to their room that night and saw her hair battle-ready.

"Bjorn," she said. She was sitting at the table with the beaten shield that passed as a mirror. He had crouched to stoke the fire again—the spring nights were still chilly.

"Hm."

Thorunn took a breath, held it for three beats, let it out, willed her voice to be strong and determined. "I'm coming with you."

He stopped poking the fire with the stick, laid it precisely down on the hearth, continued to stare into the flames. As if he hadn't heard. But he absolutely had.

"Bjorn."

"Next year."

"No." She felt her heart sink desperately at those words. Next year, who knew where she would be in her body or mind next year? What if there were children by then? How much more would he argue with her then. No. It must be now, while she could. He had to see that...

"No?" he said, turning his head now to look at her and for an instant she could see his father the king, as she sometimes had over the past year (far more often with Ubbe who more physically resembled him). And, for a corresponding instant, every bit of her slave-memories came back, and she was so close to ducking her head and apologizing for having contradicted.

But...no.

"Do you remember my terms?"

He stared at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted wings.

Thorunn pointed to his arm ring. "You swore on that."

His mouth tightened. Now he remembered.

"This is the one you wouldn't tell me," he said slowly, evenly.

She nodded.

"I can't give you anything else?"

"No."

"Anything."

"It must be this. It is all I want."

"The others will not agree."

"You must make them. You swore, Bjorn."

He stood. He was not one to waste time arguing, she knew that about him already. "I will talk with my father." Striding towards the door, he paused by it. "Don't stay up."

Thorunn inclined her head obediently while knowing whether she lay down or not, she would not sleep a moment until he returned.

But he did not come.