Thorunn lay in bed, unwilling to move.

She had not slept well the remainder of the night, though the nightmares hadn't persisted. Her stomach complained of hunger, though if she nourished herself, it would revolt, she knew. All she could do was sip well water and concentrate on keeping that down, at least.

She hadn't exactly lied to Bjorn. But the guilt stayed with her, as she hadn't exactly been telling the truth either. The truth being that she knew it quite likely, when she boarded the boat, that her cycle was not going to come that month, or any month after for some time.

She must make a sacrifice to atone for the sin of the lie, or, if not for that, to create a beneficent space in her body, the receptacle for the baby to be. Whether or not she wanted it. Or, if not a sacrifice, should she revisit the Seer, with another form of payment? And a request for the gods to bless them, if such a thing was not too terribly arrogant? After all, Ragnar and Aslaug had certainly wanted all healthy sons and must have prayed to that end as well (only to end up with Ivar. But perhaps their blessings, or their luck, had run out after so many sons prior to Ivar.) This was her first—her and Bjorn's first child, and as such, deserved, in Thorunn's mind at least, to be blessed.

If only she could want it, that might be blessing enough. But in this phase of the sickness, with her stomach not even swelling, it was hard to imagine the baby as a being in its own right, yet.

By mid-morning a servant knocked on the door, and though Thorunn told her to go away, the girl came in anyway, saying that Bjorn had asked her (good thing he'd had the sense not to ask Margrethe) to see if there was any service needed. Anything washed, food brought, message carried. In the end there was little more for her to do than empty the chamberpot and return it clean in case Thorunn had another bout of sickness. The girl was uncertain as to Bjorn's whereabouts when questioned, and she realized she would only see him again at night, if indeed then. He probably meant to keep his distance and honestly she could not hold that against him.

She did send for Oddveig and Astrid, not with any urgency, but with the goal of spending the afternoon together. The visit went well enough; both her friends were polite and cheerful, wishing her well when she confirmed the pregnancy, offering up name suggestions, and speaking of other things as the conversation led them, but before much time had passed Thorunn was aware that there was already less commonality between them than before. They were childless shieldmaidens, though Astrid was married; and she was now, at least for the time being, neither of those things. When she bade them farewell there was a diffidency that had not existed before.

By the evening, Thorunn's nausea had abated to the point where she felt up to getting out of bed; that, and the boredom of lying about had gotten to her. The great hall was alight as usual with candles and busy with family and some new faces, guests to Kattegat. (Upon seeing them she was glad she'd taken the time to put on a clean gown and brush her hair before going out.)

She slipped into the bench on Ubbe's other side; Bjorn wasn't there. Ubbe raised a wordless toast to her, and though her swallow of ale was only ceremonial, she smiled her thanks at him for keeping it nonspecific. She didn't mind him knowing. Perhaps Ragnar and Lagertha, in the distance entertaining their guests, already knew as well.

"Where's Bjorn?"

"Not back yet." Ubbe took another swallow of ale.

"Where did he go?" She inspected the platter of meat in front of her and tried a tiny piece to see how it would sit.

"To visit the Seer," Ubbe said, offhandedly as though such a visit might not be undertaken for months, even years at a time for fear of inadvertently angering either the gods in general or the Seer in particular. "From your face I'm guessing he didn't tell you he was going."

"No." Thorunn chewed slowly. "He did not. But he has the right to do such things on his own, of course. Who are our guests?" She asked out of a desire to change the subject, not actual interest, and Ubbe's reply suggested he was aware of that.

Eventually, Thorunn grew tired of waiting—there was too much general revelry as the evening wore on, and Bjorn still did not reappear. But having spent the day inside, she was too restless to return to her room. She asked Ubbe if he would come with her to look for him. He agreed.

They made their way outside, the night still cool in the way of early summer, and headed for the hills. There was enough of a moon to see by, though Ubbe had brought a torch from the hall to better light the path, and insisted, though not obnoxiously, upon leading the way.

"When do you leave again?" Thorunn asked, punishing herself.

He threw a glance over his shoulder. "We don't know. Soon. And we'll be away longer this time." He sounded apologetic. Thorunn morosely picked her way along the path behind him. They hadn't gotten far before Bjorn appeared in the light thrown by the torch, looking irritated. "You came looking for me? And making enough noise to wake a village."

"We're just going for a walk," Ubbe said, giving Thorunn a conspiratorial grin. "Just happened to come this way. How was your visit with the Seer?"

"It wasn't a visit," Bjorn said shortly. "It was a consultation."

Ubbe widened his eyes at Thorunn but she didn't risk a smile and after all she too wanted to know what had been said between him and the Kattegat mountain dweller.

"But did you learn anything?" Ubbe persisted.

"Nothing of importance to you," replied his brother. "I'll take her from here." He nodded at Thorunn, who couldn't help bristling. "I don't need to be taken anywhere," she began, but the men exchanged some look of understanding and Ubbe vanished into the surrounding darkness with scarcely a backward glance.

"You didn't need to be rude," Thorunn said. "I asked him to come up with me."

"I wasn't," Bjorn said, with the confidence of an older sibling. "He's fine. As for you, are you up to wandering about in the dark?"

"It's good for me to take the air. Better than being penned in the room all day."

"No one said you had to stay in there."

"But don't I?"

"Just because you can't come raiding with us," Bjorn sighed through his nose, tipping his head up, "doesn't make you a prisoner."

He was right, of course, but the alternatives seemed too stark to her. Either she could return to kitchen drudgery, or live the life of an expectant princess with nothing purposeful to fill her days. Neither option was appealing. She tried to muster a pleasant expression, forced though it was. "You're right, of course. I will have to find some other way to spend the days."

Bjorn's own expression softened. "We could go up to the cabin again if you like, before I leave. It's an easier journey without snow."

"Only if you want to," Thorunn said. "It doesn't matter to me."

"What matters to me is that you're happy. And healthy. Both you and the baby. But you first."

She let him take her into his arms, recalling how long it had been since they'd been intimate. Weeks. Now that her morning nausea had abated, she felt a stir of desire at the feel of his strong body against hers, his hands now roaming from her waist to her backside. He muttered something hungrily against her neck, then something about going back to their room. "No," she said. "Here."

There was no argument from him. They knelt, hastily, stripping off obstructing clothing in Bjorn's case and sliding Thorunn's dress up in hers, then Thorunn hauled him down into the grass with her. The discarded torch slowly burned out, luckily, a few feet away.

After the quick, near-desperate union, they lay entangled until breathing and heartbeats returned to normal. Thorunn traced circles on Bjorn's bare chest. "What did the Seer have to say?"

"That you were trouble."

"Really?" In dismay she popped her head up to stare at him.

"Yes. That I needed to be careful of you. But I already knew both those things."

"I don't know if I like that."

"Perhaps most people don't know if they like what the future holds and that's why they don't go there."

What was it the Seer had said to her? That she owed something, yes. That she would come back, they had seen it. The thought made her uneasy though she hadn't given it consideration in weeks. Maybe she ought to go sooner and get the meeting over with. Although she still didn't know what she would be expected to give up.

"What did you leave with the Seer?" she asked.

"The baby's rattle."

"You didn't," she looked at him again in disappointment.

"I can make another."

"But it won't be the same. That one meant something."

"And that's why I had to give it up," Bjorn said reasonably. "The second one I make will be better. Now that I know what to do."

"If you say so," Thorunn said, but she felt that it was a bad omen.

More days passed and with them, the warriors left in their boats for the coast of Frankia this time. They were rumored to be planning talks with Rollo himself, although the official position was still that they were raiding along Frankish shores.

With both Bjorn and Ubbe gone, as well as Oddveig and Astrid, Thorunn felt rather friendless and that remaining behind alone for at least two months was indeed something of a penalty or imprisonment. True, Kattegat was lovely in the summer and she was free to disport herself under the sun, or to hold court with the many guests who visited their land in the finer weather. It was better by far than the confinement of the winter season. Still, she was lonely. Lagertha made sure to check in with her every few days, not to draw her into any deep conversations but merely to inquire after her general health and see if any needs were unmet. Thorunn always replied that they weren't. She was, and always would be grateful to Lagertha for giving her freedom, but there was too large a gap between them to be friends, even considering she was going to provide her with her first grandchild. At least they could have amicable, if shallow interactions.

Several weeks into the first month, she had a less pleasant interaction. There was an evening knock on her door and when Thorunn went to open it, she was startled to see Ivar, leaning heavily on his walking sticks. He could not remain fully upright on them, so he had an awkward bend in his body. She felt both sorry for him and a sense of distaste at the same time.

"Ivar," she said slowly, never really having spoken to him before.

"Thorunn," he answered, staring at her with those piercingly blue eyes, bluer even than any of his brothers. Wolf eyes, they were. They lacked Bjorn's soundness of mind and Ubbe's twinkle of friendliness. "I came to see if you were well."

"If I were well—of course I am well. Why would I not be?"

He pushed his lips out. "They say you are with child."

She couldn't help protectively wrapping her arms around herself, clothed only in her robe. Her belly was now showing, and she didn't like his eyes drifting to the bump. "Bjorn's child," she affirmed, wondering if she was imagining he was insinuating it might be otherwise.

"Of course," Ivar said. "My nephew or niece."

Thorunn stared at him, hardly able to imagine a less avuncular figure than this cold, broken young boy who couldn't be much more than sixteen or seventeen. And yet who was so self-possessed. Almost dangerously so.

"You wonder why I come now?" he said. "My brothers are gone. The others are—" he made a face that showed how little he thought of Hvitserk and Sigurd. "So I offer you—any assistance as you may require."

It might have been endearing, such an offer coming from any other creature, but there was something chilling in it.

"That is...thoughtful of you," Thorunn said at last, unable to come up with anything else. "I'm quite well, however."

"I'm glad to hear it. If Bjorn returned and found you wanting," his eyes drifted up and down her again, almost dismissively, "I would be sorry to be held responsible."

It was such odd phrasing, couched so obliquely. "I cannot imagine why you would be responsible, Ivar. Especially when we have scarcely—spoken, you and I." She did not like to utter those words together, but it seemed important to emphasize that they had no connection, even if he would create one now.

"And that is my fault," Ivar considered smoothly, shifting a little and wincing, visibly, as he did so, bearing yet more weight on his forearms. "You have to realize it was possible it was just temporary, in the beginning, when Bjorn fixed on you."

"Of course," Thorunn said, feeling stiff but trying not to let it show in her demeanor.

"You were, after all," he said, and she could see in his eyes that he was going to say it, he was going to remind her—tell her how he still considered her—"a slave."

His lips were so innocent. It was his eyes that gave him away. Chill. Leader of the pack despite being the weakest and the youngest.

He smiled the tiniest bit. "Then."

"Yes," Thorunn got out, in a higher pitch than normal. "I—I thank you for your concern, Ivar, but I am truly not in need of anything. Please. You look to be in discomfort." She didn't mean to actually touch him, but she put out a hand anyway, as if to guide him away down the hall.

"Oh, I am myself quite well," he assured her. "This body is just—a temporal inconvenience to me."

Thorunn blinked uncertainly.

"Well. Good night to you, then. Rest well. The health of your baby depends upon it."

From another, an innocuous suggestion. From him, it had the sound of a threat, even though he smiled, dipped his head, and walked awkwardly away.

Thorunn shut and bolted the door and breathed out, feeling like she terribly needed a bath, and would take a plunge in the lake at the very next opportunity. And yet, after a night's solid sleep, she woke in the morning wondering if she hadn't just been imagining the unpleasantness, and maybe he had meant well by the interlude.

But by the evening again she was again thrown into concern by the memory, and spent a restless night.

That morning she went again to search out the Seer.

In a way, it was easier this time, having an idea what to expect. But when the white-painted acolyte met her again outside on the clifftop, with no expression to suggest remembering the first meeting, her nerves sang a little. But she had come prepared, having brought one of the beaded necklaces taken from the church on English soil, and she placed it into the acolyte's hand and waited to be announced.

"Ah, Thorunn no longer of Hilde. You are back so soon," was how the Seer greeted her when she was allowed to make her way through the black shadows.

"I am sorry," Thorunn said, not knowing if an apology was in order. "I have more questions."

"Of course you do. And are they the same questions that your child's father had?"

"The most important thing I need to know is whether Ivar is a danger to my child."

The Seer coughed wispily. "Ivar the Boneless is a danger to everyone." There was the soft rattling of beads sifting through fingers. "This is a pretty Christian trinket. Retrieved it yourself, did you?"

"Yes." She thought again of the murdered child and shivered involuntarily. "Tell me what I must do to keep my baby safe."

"From its uncle? Or from this world that has few safe places in it?"

"Yes. Both."

"There is no such way."

"You do not say we are cursed, Seer?"

"No, I do not say that. Nor should you invite trouble by giving breath to the notion." The admonition was clear. Thorunn bowed her head. "Now be off with you. Do not belabor me with questions so often."

She mumbled apologies, backing away to the sound of the clicking beads.

Nothing of event happened in the remainder of spring, and indeed summer was nearly through before word came that the raiders were finally on their way back to Kattegat. Thorunn's growing belly allowed her to do less than ever, although once she'd begun to feel the stirrings of life inside her, she hadn't minded as much. Slowing down felt more natural and less like imprisonment as it had when the nausea had been at its worst. She met Bjorn with the others at the shore and was swept up in his hearty embrace as he exclaimed over how much the baby had grown. All the warriors were lean, fit, sunburned and full of stories of Frankish wonders. Bjorn was exuberant, promising Thorunn tales and treasures, carrying her along in his excitement even as he literally carried her a dozen steps from the dock and then pretended she was too much for him with the extra weight of the baby. Ubbe swung by to give Thorunn a hearty hug and also commented that it looked like she was carrying his nephew. It was all very overwhelming, and Thorunn longed for it to be already the quiet moments of night when they two could be alone. But there were feasts to be had and drinks to be drunk and many hours until that could take place.

The candles were little more than wax puddles on the table by the time the last of the celebrants drifted out of the hall, to their own homes and fires. Bjorn had urged Thorunn to go to bed long ago, but she'd insisted, stubbornly, on waiting for him. He frowned at the dark circles under her eyes and put an arm around her to help her stand. She wasn't hugely pregnant yet, but she looked exhausted. "It's bed for you."

She did not argue. Already the dogs were curled in corners and the big fire burned low. Ubbe wished them a good night and went on his way. Bjorn and Thorunn walked down the hall together.

"How is Kattegat? How are you?"

"Well enough," she replied. "Glad you are returned. All of us."

"And no one's treated you ill? Margrethe?"

"She's kept to the shadows. Only—"

"What?" He opened the door to their room and ushered her in, closing it behind.

"It's nothing. Ivar once spoke to me. He made me uncomfortable."

"What did he do? I'll—"

"No, he wasn't...I don't know exactly. He didn't say anything wrong."

"I'll happily beat him for you," Bjorn growled, his good mood fading as he tried to think of Ivar's presence at dinner earlier. Miserable and jealous, but such was always the case with his youngest brother.

"I don't believe that would improve his personality," Thorunn said. "Let's not talk of your brother. It was nothing. I missed you."

"I missed you." Hungrily he kissed her, distracted a little by the new presence of her rounded stomach. He broke away and put a rather uncertain hand on it.

"It's fine," she breathed. "Don't stop."

They made it to the bed together, but only just.