Chapter Twenty-Five: By and By

Sigurd became a regular fixture at her table in the early days of Lagertha's rule. They ate their meals together each morning and evening. When Sigurd arrived at the cabin before her chores were done, he played music on his oud for her while she worked. "You do this each and every morning, Rúna? Seems a dull way to start a day. And to think this is the life Ubbe wants…"

Rúna glared at him from where she crouched, running her finger over the downy feathers of the little chicks while they ate. She liked to greet the animals each morning. "And what kind of life do you want, Sigurd-Snake-in-the-Eye?"

"An easy one." He punctuated his words with a strumming of strings. "One where I can lay in bed late in the morning and hunt when I want and play music when I want and feast when I want."

At this, Rúna laughed. "So… the prince's life you already have?"

"Exactly. I am glad we understand each other." He gave a furtive glance toward the door, mouth twisting in a grimace. Always so dramatic while he waited for his breakfast. "What of you, Rúna?"

Despite herself, Rúna's eyes slid to the shore some yards away from the small farm. The sun glittered over slate gray waves, setting them to an opalescent, undulating mass. When she inhaled, the familiar salt and brine of the sea greeted her. "I want to sail. Like Floki and Ragnar."

"Women do not usually captain ships," Sigurd mused.

"And how many of us have been raised by the notorious shipbuilder Floki?"

Laughing, Sigurd hopped down from the fence with his oud in hand. "Fair enough. May we eat now or do you intend to starve me to death? I think I would have rather taken Lagertha's execution over that."

Rúna felt her cheeks heat slightly. Her morning with Astrid had come up in dinner conversation the night before. Surprisingly, Sigurd had been amused to learn that Lagertha had originally planned to kill him and Ubbe.

As an unspoken rule, they didn't discuss either Hvitserk or Ivar. Nor Aslaug or Ragnar. For the fifth morning in a row, Rúna made breakfast for Sigurd. He had hardly finished his porridge and berries, using his finger to scrap the last of the honey from his bowl, before he was on his feet. "Let's go."

"Where?" Rúna asked, brow crumpling. They had not discussed going anywhere together.

"Sailing. Floki's own boat is still here, no? Not so big as the raiding ships, but surely fit to sail the fjords a bit." The hesitation was clear on her face, amusing Sigurd. He goaded her on, "How will you sail if you do not have experience?"

"I sailed to and from Tamdrup recently," she bristled, which only served to amuse Sigurd further.

"Show me."

"You want me to take you to Tamdrup?" There was a certain appeal to the idea. Mainly, Bodil and Gisli. The thought of seeing her friends had her warming to the idea. Sigurd smirked, clearly reading her acquiescence on her face. "Fine, but you're doing all the rowing."

Floki's boat was not docked, though. It was on land, sitting tall beside his workshop, covered over with tarps. The pair had to untie all the protective covering and push the small boat through the slippery sand and into the lapping tide. Rúna did all this with her skirts tucked up, sandaled feet sinking into the sand. Once in the water, Sigurd gave the boat one more shove before taking Rúna's hand so she could help him swing up inside.

Only when they were on the open water, wind running salty fingers through their hair, that Rúna dared to break their unspoken rule. She leaned over the edge, trailing her fingers in the cold, sparkling water. "The other night, when we were in the great hall… you told Lagertha 'when they return'. Hvitserk and Ivar."

Her throat constricted, keeping any other words she had trapped inside. Sigurd sat on the other end of the boat, letting the sun warm his face. "Little Ivar is insufferable, but I would be disappointed if something as simple as a sea storm was what took him from this world."

Seabirds wheeled overhead, diving sharply when a fish was spotted beneath the waves. They called to each other, squabbling now and then when a coveted fish was seen. Though Rúna had delegated the task of rower to Sigurd, the breeze was strong enough to propel them forward through the fjord without his assistance.

"Would you rather do it yourself?" She teased, wiggling her fingers before the face of a curious fish. It took an experimental bite, all gums and cold, scaly skin, before deciding her hand wasn't worth its time. Beneath the waves, Rúna watched the fish dart off into the deeper water.

Sigurd was quiet for so long that she started to suspect he didn't hear her. Picking her head up, she found her companion squinting into the bright horizon. "No."

With his next words, he smoothly changed the subject, turning to meet her eye and grin. "I am surprised with you. Breaking all the rules Floki and Helga gave you? Where is the little girl who loved to please her parents, Rúna?"

She thought about the last week or so of her life. Floki and Helga leaving, the break-neck changes in her relationship with Ivar, his leaving, the visions revealed to her by Aslaug, the queen's death, a piece of her fate—not to mention, Ivar's life—confirmed by the Seer… was it any wonder she suddenly felt so much older? Rúna turned back to the ocean all around them, this time flicking her wrist in the water to send a splash Sigurd's way. "This is my father's ship, Sigurd. I will through you overboard for being mouthy."

He smiled at her, cheeks tinged pink from the sun. Before too long, Tamdrup came into view before them. Sigurd did help her steer the ship to the dock and offered her his hand once the ship was tied securely to the pier.

If her friends were Sigurd's goal in cajoling her into sailing to Tamdrup with him, Rúna couldn't say. Gisli was all too eager to make the third prince her latest conquest, taking his hand and leading him off to gods knew where while Bodil and Rúna were left behind, bemused to see them go.

"Come, Rúna. I have a place you may like to see." A smooth and discreet way of giving her twin and Sigurd privacy. Bodil linked her arm through Rúna's, leading her away from the well-populated town and back toward the sea. Unlike Kattegat, Tamdrup was rocky and misty and harsh. None of the thick, lush forests of home could be found here. Perhaps it was not so surprising that King Harald seemed such a hard man himself given the land he ruled.

The two were a vision against the gray and black pebbled shore, Bodil tall and waifish, with her long silver-blonde hair blowing I the breeze. Rúna was small beside the girl, her own hair entirely too bright for the dreariness of the seaside kingdom. The rocks were shard and uneven under her sandals, not at all like the soft, sandy beach she knew at home.

"Sigurd is the only Ragnarsson accompanying you… I take it that Ivar and Hvitserk are not yet returned from their raiding, but where is Ubbe?"

Rúna shrugged. "I have not seen much of Ubbe… things have changed in Kattegat in such a short time. Lagertha holds the kingdom now. Queen Aslaug is dead." Her chin wobbled as the words took form. Another flare of anger rose in her, the same that came to life every time she thought of the shieldmaiden's conquest.

From there, the rest of the awful story tumbled from her lips. She told of the two raiding parties leaving, of Aslaug's visions, of Lagertha's siege, of Margrethe's hand in it. Bodil could not have gotten a word in edgewise if she had tried, but she listened to her friend's tale quietly. Not even her features betrayed any thoughts, fine, fair brow remaining smooth and her full lips set straight with no hint of movement. By the time Rúna ran out of things to say, they had walked the entire length of that stretch of beach, coming to an out cropping of dark rocks.

She felt somehow both deflated and weightless, having shed the weight of all the events she had been holding inside herself for so long. Still, Bodil did not speak. Rather, she led Rúna forward to a little body of water, enclosed by the rock. Isolated from the ebb and flow of ocean currents, the water was so still it was reflective. Rúna found herself looking at her own face, solid yet translucent, over the collection of sea grass and tiny, silvery fishes making the tide pool their home.

"Oh," Rúna murmured, her earlier rant forgotten. She peered beyond herself, trying not to focus on the dark smudges beneath her eyes from her restless nights, instead inspecting the life below the glassy water.

Bodil sat beside her, smirking. "Why is it that you are so displaced by Lagertha taking the throne? I never felt much love between you and Aslaug."

Tentatively, Rúna dipped a finger into the tide pool. A tiny ripple went out around her intrusion, startling the fish into the grass. "We did not need saving, Bodil. Queen Aslaug ruled in her own right until she denounced herself moments before her death. Lagertha came to Kattegat as if she were doing us all a favor, as our people lay dying in the streets at her hand. She thinks herself a savior, not the usurper she is. There was no tyranny in Queen Aslaug, and she turned Kattegat into a trading center for all Norway. There was no suffering in Kattegat until Lagertha took it."

Rúna raised her head, meeting the dark blue eyes of her friend. "What was Queen Aslaug's crime? Bearing Ubbe? Staying in Kattegat when King Ragnar opened it to her and welcomed her into the fold of his kingdom? Lagertha chose to leave. King Ragnar's being dead does not excuse him for the part he played, yet only Queen Aslaug and Kattegat suffer under the weight of Lagertha's revenge."

"How do you know King Ragnar is dead?"

The water was cold all along her skin when Rúna plunged her hand fully in. "If he is not dead yet, he will be soon. That was his motivation in returning to England, Bodil. He more or less told Floki as much."

After a few moments, the fish emerged. Curiosity brought them right up to Rúna, her palm tingling with their tiny, investigative nibbles. "And he chose Ivar to see him to it. Interesting. You would think a king would take his heir for such a thing."

At that, Rúna shrugged, unwilling to reveal a hand she hadn't come to terms with herself. While her heart soared to know Ivar was returning to her, her stomach twisted into iron knots at the knowledge she would wear the crown of Kattegat one day. Instead, she only said, "The gods show their favor, do they not? Ragnar had an older brother, too, but while Rollo sits in Frankia, it is Ragnar who will live on in our sagas."

Turning to her friend with a smile, Rúna flicked her wet fingers at Bodil playfully. "The gods have shown us favor, too, no? Little orphan girls from a brothel, now living lives far above our stations when we were born."

Despite the fact that Bodil was wearing one of her silks, she grinned and dipped her hand into the tide pool to splash Rúna back. "One in a high-ranking family, close to the blood royals of her town, a trained shieldmaiden, educated, and all but married to a prince. All while my sister and I enjoy a life of easy pleasure and easier coin, great favor from our king and his court, wanting for not one thing between all our gowns and jewels and wines and feasts. Yes, Rúna, I do suppose I must agree the gods have given us much more than the life of turning tricks for traveling men that our births set us on the path for."

They fell into a lapse of silence, Rúna continuing her exploration of the tide pool while Bodil watched the horizon. "You don't seem nearly distressed enough for someone who was told the boy they love will die before his time, Rúna."

Beside Bodil, the red-haired girl stilled. Had she told of that vision? Yes, she must have, in her great need to tell someone. Sighing, Rúna rocked back on her heels. Sigurd had not taken notice of how her left hand was wrapped in a strip of clean cloth despite all their time together over the past few days. Now Rúna unwound her bandage, revealing the scabbed-over, healing sacrificial wound she had given herself.

"I asked Freya and our Allfather not to bring Queen Aslaug's vision into fruition."

"Before or after she had revealed her own death to you?"

"Before." Bodil's eyes felt heavy on her. Rúna kept her own on her hand as she wound the bandage back around her palm. Many nights had already been spent ruminating on how she had stolen Aslaug's dying wish from her. She explained the hazy quality of the other visions the dead queen had shared with her. "Ivar will be the one to avenge her. I will make sure of it."

Feeble as it was, it was the only way Rúna could figure to pay the debt of the stolen with. Bodil's hand under her arm hauled her to her feet, the taller girl inclining her head for Rúna to follow. Farming was the main living to be had in Kattegat, but Tamdrup was a village of fishermen. The tang of salt and fish wafted through the air as they moved through the market—so small, compared to Kattegat's—and through a little cluster of cabins and shacks.

King Harald's great hall honored the sea as much as the king. Hanging from the ceiling were entire skeletons of ocean creatures. His throne sat alone on the dais, inlaid with the same bones that were overhead. Though the king was gone, his staff of slaves worked in the hall on their various tasks. They dipped their heads in deference to Bodil as they greeted her, but she swept by all of them as she murmured in response to each of them. Rúna found herself led to a small bedroom, one fragrant with dried herbs and flowers hanging along the walls and lush rugs strewn across the floor. A carefully sorted table full of jewels and trinkets sat against one wall. The bed was large and canopied with a thin, gauzy fabric that reminded Rúna of cheesecloth that somehow managed to look elegant here.

Bodil's bedroom. She wanted for nothing, indeed.

"I did not realize you lived in King Harald's great hall." Bodil smirked, stopping at the jewel-strewn table to nimbly choose a necklace choked with shimmering red stones. She held it to Rúna's throat for a moment before giving a small shake of her head and plucking up a blue strand instead.

"It is a new arrangement. Gisli's bedroom is on the other side, closer to Halfdan's. I think Harald is starting to tire of chasing his princess. You should wear blue more often, Rúna. It sets off your hair magnificently."

High favor from the king, indeed. "Are you aiming to be queen, then, Bodil?" Rúna asked, holding a hair bead up to the light so she could see the flower detail painted on it. Beside her, Bodil giggled.

"No, I am more than happy being a concubine. I have the perks of being a queen without being expected to birth Harald's children or even to remain loyal to him. We do not take men to our beds in the great hall, only our king, that is why Gisli took Sigurd to our old cabin. If we can keep our positions even when our king does marry… well, Rúna, my sister and I are set for life, no? My jewels alone could support us for years, not to mention Gisli's own."

"How is King Harald so rich? He is always bejeweled, himself."

"Raiding," Bodil stated, as if it should be obvious. "Queen Aslaug shut Kattegat to raiding to focus on trading, yes? And she made considerable fortune for herself, as I understand. Four natural sons to support and Björn besides, not to mention Ivar's needs alone, and no one went wanting, did they? King Harald rules with his hands and Queen Aslaug ruled with her mind. Once you recognize a ruler's strategy, it is not so hard to bend it to your will, Rúna."

"And how do you bend King Harald's?"

At that, Bodil grinned and tipped her head toward her bed. "Harald loves all the things that make him a Viking man. Having a spot in his bed is practically the same as having a seat on his council. He listens to me nearly as much as he does Halfdan, and his brother is the only man truly on Harald's council. All the others are for show, for propriety's sake, you see."

"I see," Rúna said, mouth lifting in a smirk. She twirled one of Bodil's rings—too big for her—around her finger before setting it back on the table. "Keep him from getting any ideas about taking Kattegat for himself, Bodil. We do not know yet what kind of ruler Lagertha will be, no?"

Once, the twins had described Tamdrup as a joyous court. Rúna could see now that this was not an overstatement. Gisli had chosen the tavern where the four of them took their dinner. It was filled with laughing, talking people and there was someone playing music—a flute of some kind—in a jaunty tune. A few people clapped along to the beat the music kept; others were playing gambling games, and there was a portion of the room cleared out to the left where some of the gambles were being settled in good-natured wrestling.

"Different from Kattegat, no?" Gisli asked, face still flush and vibrant from her afternoon spent with Sigurd.

"You can find a crowd of drunkards in any town," Sigurd countered, having to nearly shout. The ale was cheap but decent, and a big pitcher sat on their table along with their chicken.

"But do you typically find them so happy?"

Gisli excused herself to track down some cards for them to play with. When Bodil became distracted by one of the wrestling matches, Rúna bumped her shoulder against Sigurd's. "It is not wrong to enjoy this."

"I never said I did not," Sigurd mumbled into his ale.

"Your face told me. We came here to get away from the troubles of Kattegat, did we not?" She bumped him again, raising her eyebrows until he cracked a smile. Then Sigurd dipped his head so he could whisper close to her ear.

"You think he's coming back, don't you?" Ivar. He meant Ivar, of course.

"You said it yourself, Sigurd. It would be highly disappointing if the sea was what took Ivar from this world. I have full faith the Njord would spit Ivar out of his domain, if for no other reason than his being 'insufferable'."

"As long as you know it," Sigurd said, his smile widening. The light was dim in the tavern, so that she missed the mischievous glint enter his eyes. "I saw you sneaking off from his cabin that morning."

Rúna choked on her ale, drawing Bodil's attention. With Gisli and her probing questions away for the afternoon, Rúna had thought she was escaping the day without mentioning her night with Ivar. Laughing, Sigurd patted her back while she regained her breath. "Are you alright, Rúna?"

Before Sigurd could say a word, Rúna kicked him—hard—underneath the table. But it was little effect. Sigurd merely scooted away from her on the bench she shared before leaning across the table. Gisli, of course, was returned by then, victoriously beaming with cards in hand. Accepting her fate, Rúna covered her burning face with her hands.

"I saw our sweet, innocent, blushing Rúna leaving my little brother's cabin at daybreak." His reveal got the desired effect. Gisli pounded her open palm on the table in her excitement. Always the calmer of the two, Bodil leaned back and crossed her arms, an appreciative smirk stretching across her face.

"How?" Rúna asked despite herself. She had thought she was able to slip away unseen.

Sigurd shrugged, twirling the bone left from the chicken leg he had devoured on his plate. "Margrethe was sleeping in my bed herself, and I had to piss, so I went outside. Then what should I see but a smudge of bright red hair—and Rúna is the only person in Kattegat with hair like that—fleeing away."

"Rúna," Gisli said excitedly. Forcibly. Shaking her head, Rúna sent her damning hair flying around her shoulders.

"Absolutely not."

Gisli pouted, her desire to know the details thwarted. Bodil, of course, was more cunning. She plucked the deck of cards away from Gisli, shuffling them between her two hands. "How about a gamble, Rúna? We will play cards, and if you can best us, you may keep your secrets. But if not… well, I know for Gisli and myself, we are deeply curious."

"Wait, I would also like to know how Little Ivar managed this." Sigurd slid off the bench on their side of the table, traitorously plopping himself beside Gisli. "You will need to play all three of us."

"If you can best at least two of us, we will let it slide. But if the score falls in our favor…" Gisli giggled uncontrollably at Bodil and Sigurd's united teasing. Gritting her teeth and pursing her lips, Rúna glared at each of them in turn. Unless she won this gamble, she knew none of the three supposed friends that sat before her were like to let this go.

Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, Rúna gave her answer. "Fine."

The excitement on all three faces before her made it clear not one of them had thought she would agree. Bodil shuffled quickly, dealing a hand first to Rúna and then Gisli. "We are not monsters, though, dear Rúna. You may play us one at a time. We will even start easy."

"Hey!" Gisli protested, but Rúna knew she could sweep her in a game of cards. Easily.

And she did.

There was a small argument over who should go next, Bodil or Sigurd, that was ultimately settled when Sigurd threw up his hands and said to finish the twin set. Bodil passed the cards off to him for dealing. Perhaps the night she had played with Ivar as her partner gave Bodil false confidence; it was more of a challenge than Gisli, yes, but Rúna bested her in the end as well.

"That's majority," she said, trying to put her remaining cards back into the deck as the twins pouted. Sigurd caught her hand.

"Winner takes all."

Rúna raised her eyebrows at him. "If you want to know so badly, you might ask Ivar when he returns from England. The four of you are annoyingly good at sharing secrets amongst yourselves."

"He might tell me, or he might tell me to fuck off. I like my chances on this gamble better."

Rolling her eyes, Rúna gathered the cards for Gisli's turn at shuffling and dealing. Her hand for the final round was not great. She took two out to be dealt again, but Sigurd removed three. A good sign, surely.

Until they each laid their hands card faces up to find they had ended equally matched. Rúna groaned while the others laughed. Gisli dealt them new hands. Rúna like this one marginally better than her first. She took one card and gave it back to Gisli.

"Ready?" She asked. Again, she and Sigurd laid their cards down in unison.

Again, they came away tied.

"Seriously?!" Sigurd yelled. Bodil and Gisli were dissolving into fits of laughter beside him. "By the gods, Rúna. One more hand. If we come up even again, I swear to our Allfather I will let it go and pester Ivar when he's returned from England instead."

"Give me a hand, Gisli. I suppose we are letting Odin decide this one."

For her last hand, Rúna rejected four of them. Sigurd kept all cards dealt to him. Looking over her hand and running the math in her mind, Rúna took a deep breath.

"On three," Sigurd decided. "One, two, three…"

Matching hands. Down to the very cards. Bodil and Gisli exploded with another bout of laughter while Sigurd hung his head in his hands. Rúna couldn't help laughing herself, utterly relieved. Sorry, Ivar.

"Do you feel better now?" Rúna asked once she and Sigurd were back out on the water. He shrugged where he lounged in the gap between rowing benches.

"At least I never had any thoughts that Gisli might love me."

Rúna's heart gave a hard squeeze at how casually he said it. She reached out, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Margrethe would never have loved Ubbe, either. Only the possibility of sitting on Kattegat's throne."

Sigurd sighed, shoulder rising and falling under her hand, foot tapping on the side of the boat. He didn't turn to look at her, but Rúna didn't miss the wobble to his lips. Before she could give it a second thought, Rúna leaned forward and hugged him. The angle between her sitting on the bench and Sigurd sitting on the floor of the boat was awkward, but that didn't stop her. Sigurd reached up, a hand coming to grip her sleeve. He took another shaky breath.

"I can add another frustration to my life, that Ivar does not deserve you, Rúna. But I think I should like to have you as a sister all the same."

With her chin resting atop his head, it was all too easy to press a kiss to his hair. If Sigurd was this broken, what state was Ubbe in? How would Hvitserk handle the news of Queen Aslaug's passing?

She knew only one thing for sure, bobbing in the water of the fjords with Sigurd as the sun slipped below the horizon, and that was that Ivar would be destroyed when told. As much as she longed to see him safe in Kattegat again, Rúna was dreading the aftermath of Ivar's hurt.

At home that night, Rúna pondered what to do about her sword. She laid it out, unsheathed, on the table and ran her finger over the runes etched into the blade. It was a beautiful weapon, without a doubt, but it had also been given to her by Lagertha.

Perhaps it was the fresh sting of betrayal, but Rúna very much wanted nothing to do with Lagertha at the moment. Ivar had compared Ragnar to a spirit before they left for England, but now Rúna felt as if she were the one haunting the edges of Kattegat. Yet she could not bring herself to venture from the sanctity of home.

I could have Frodde melt it down and smith the blade again, she mused. Rúna had the coin to pay the blacksmith—money she had won in bets and games with Ivar and his brothers.

Or she could return the sword and use the same coin to ask Frodde to make her another one. Rúna twisted her arm ring around her wrist while she thought. Walking around the table, she studied the sword from all angles in the candlelight. The metal was cold and smooth when she ran her finger over it. Despite the origins of the sword, she didn't want to part with it.

What I do see for certain is Lagertha falling from the throne.

Though she had long since scrubbed the Seer's blood from her forehead, Rúna felt the weight of the crown he had given her as she recalled Aslaug's words. Twisting her arm ring again, she thought of her parents. Floki and Helga were dear friends with Lagertha, whether she presently liked the fact or not. Scowling, Rúna took hold of her sword and sheathed it before carrying it back to her bedroom. For propriety's sake, she thought, borrowing Bodil's words, I can hardly return the sword.

She laid the sword away in her wooden chest again before letting herself fall heavily on her bed. Reaching for the nightstand, it was easy to pick out the leafy branch of mistletoe there among her collection of rocks. The Seer had given it to her days ago, yet it still looked as if the little branch had been freshly plucked. No wilt showed among the leaves, no spots of rot had appeared on the plump berries. How curious that he should give her mistletoe on the same day Astrid had alluded to yew trees. Both plants were famed for both renewal and pestilence. Astrid meant for Lagertha to be the yew tree, she was certain, but did that make Rúna the mistletoe?

The Seer had told her to cling to the gods and they would do the same to her, but what, exactly, did that entail? Only one god was directly connected to mistletoe, and that was Baldur. She recalled the story of how Loki had caused Baldur's death with mistletoe, the only substance in all the realms that could harm the son of Odin and Frigg after his mother had taken oaths of protection for her favorite child.

But she could not fathom how the mistletoe pertained to both her and Baldur, unless the Seer was hinting at a betrayal. Such was the way with the Seer; he only hinted at the meaning and happenings of one's fate. At least Aslaug had spoken plainly.

"What am I meant to do, Allfather?" Twirling the mistletoe branch between her fingers, she mulled over the fate revealed to her by both Aslaug and the Seer. Lagertha's reign would end, that was certain, and Ivar's would take place. Of that she was sure, for there was no other outcome she could fathom where the crown landed on her head. But to have Ivar depose Lagertha, that would cause some strife between the Ragnarssons, would it not?

I've never thought much of Björn anyway. The face of Lagertha and Ragnar's son floated into her mind. He had the same straw-blonde hair as his mother and her blue eyes—not the bright blue Ubbe, Ivar, and Sigurd had all inherited from Ragnar. He had the wherewithal to sail to a new land, sure, but Rúna had always found him lacking in the cunning that characterized Ragnar in all Floki's stories. A great fighter, yes. A strategist, an innovator? No.

And what of Lagertha herself? Her siege of Kattegat was opportunistic. Hedeby never would have had the forces to take the kingdom were it not for Björn's raiding party being absent. Would he have even agreed to the siege? It was curious to Rúna that Lagertha chose to usurp the kingdom without her son's knowledge.

These thoughts led her to Torvi. Strong, willful Torvi. Here, Rúna placed the least of the blame. Lagertha taking the throne improved not only Torvi's station, but that of her children. Rúna also knew Torvi to be incredibly loyal; it was not out of character for her to aid Lagertha. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't give Torvi more than a smidgen of the fault she was laying at Lagertha and Margrethe's feet.

Rúna pushed herself up, tucking the mistletoe into her belt as the Seer had and making her way back into the front room of the cabin to blow out the candles lit there. Each extinguished flame brought her deeper into darkness. When all light was snuffed out of the room, she tipped her head back, speaking through the barrier of the roof to the sky beyond.

"I will not hide from the fate you have given me," she spoke aloud to the gods. "If Lagertha is to lose Kattegat and I gain it, then I will play my part with her gifted sword in my hand."

Then we shall see who has made a fool of who, she added silently. In her bedroom, she tucked her mistletoe branch safely away with her rocks before laying her head down to sleep.

A/N: I guess I could have just called this chapter 'Adventures of Sigurd and Rúna', but I was listening to Caamp's By and By when I began writing it, so here we are!

Thank y'all so much for all the input last chapter! I hear all of you (taylor115, AnImEfReAk4994, Puffgirl1952 the 2nd, Wika0304, and Ana Kookie) loud and clear. There's an idea bouncing around in my brain for Freydis to make a small cameo and not a bit more.

Also, AnImEfReAk4994, to add to your Harley & Joker analogy: Hozier's NFWMB is basically the inspiration of this whole story, because after watching Vikings, I just KNEW that's how Ivar would feel about his love.

I am sorry there was such a gap between last chapter and this one! My computer bit the dust, I wrote most of this chapter on my iPad waiting for my new computer to come in, and then I re-wrote it like, three times, before I liked it. I'm hoping everyone else likes it, too, despite being so light on Ivar. I have always thought Sigurd got one of the worst cases of one-note characterization in the show. If he's going to be a foil for Ivar, I want him to be a good, developed foil, so this chapter was used to (hopefully) show the deeper characterization I intend for him.