Chapter Twenty-Seven: All Change
Rúna easily found Astrid in the forest the next morning, sitting beside the waterfall just as she had suspected. A basket laden with plump blackberries hung from Rúna's arm—her excuse for being in the forest was the large bramble that grew not far from the waterfall. She lingered near the bramble, watching Astrid from behind a tree and trying to get a feel for how long the shieldmaiden spent beside the water.
Fingertips stained dark from the berry juice, Rúna popped one in her mouth, the tart taste flooding across her tongue. Astrid was graceful, she would give her that. She rose in one fluid movement, turning away from the river and Rúna both. But then the dark-haired girl stilled, her hand resting on the tree she was moving past. Dammit.
Some spy she made. Owning the fact she had been caught, Rúna made an attempt to cover her tracks. "Good morning! Do you like blackberries?" Rúna held out her basket toward her. Astrid came forward, watching her warily, plucking a berry at random.
"You still avoid town, for the most part," Astrid stated the obvious. "Except for when requested by Lagertha, save for the day Ivar returned. It does not go unnoticed."
"Lagertha knows Floki. He prefers to keep to himself and Helga and I, so is it so much of a surprise if I do as well?" Rúna plopped another berry in her own mouth.
"Perhaps, if you were not well known already to spend time in the heart of town."
"I spend time with Ivar." Rúna clarified. "And I used to spend time with Queen Aslaug. Now one is gone, and one newly returned. You will see more of me now, I am sure. Tonight, for certain, for Lagertha's announcement."
Astrid cocked her head to the side, black-rimmed eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the younger girl before her. "Do you believe that Ragnar is dead?"
"Yes." Rúna's voice was strong, no hint of waver or doubt.
"But Aslaug was wrong about Ivar. Ragnar may live, too." But Rúna was shaking her head even before Astrid finished her sentence. She reached out, resting a hand on Astrid's sleeve.
"I know Lagertha wishes for Ragnar to return, but he will not. He told Floki he did not intend to return, and Ivar insists Ragnar meant to meet his death in England."
Astrid turned her gaze away from her, staring hard in the direction of Kattegat. "Come with me, Rúna. Lagertha wanted me to fetch you later in the day. You might as well come now."
Dammit, she cursed internally once again. Rúna had meant to find Ivar and his brothers, to confirm with them her suspicion of where and how to stall Astrid on the day they intended to get their revenge. "She needs you to read the papers we have found."
"Papers?" Rúna asked, momentarily confused. Her brow drew together before her mind opened and remembered. "Oh, Queen Aslaug's market reports, surely. Ubbe or Sigurd could read them just as easily." She knew better than to offer Ivar's name.
But Astrid took her arm when Rúna tried to turn back to the blackberry bramble. She held Rúna firmly, but not roughly, and began walking so that she dragged Rúna behind her. "Hey!"
"Lagertha does not want the princes to read for her. Until Björn returns or Lagertha learns the runor herself, she wants you to do the reading."
Rúna groaned internally, especially when she remembered the lessons Helga had taught her all through her childhood. It is best not to upset the queen. And queen Lagertha was, as much as Rúna hated the thought. Against all other instinct and desire, she let herself be led by Astrid through the forest and then the town.
As Rúna had expected, the papers Astrid had dragged her to were the expenses and profits that Queen Aslaug had kept such careful track of.
"See here," Rúna explained, underlining a line of jagged runor. Björn's hand. "This is from the winter just passed. It was profitable in furs and meats, for the winter was milder than usual and there was still hunting to be had. Queen Aslaug had a fee of a gold coin—or goods equal to that amount—for each seller, for each day they sold and traded in Kattegat."
Lagertha sat on Ragnar's throne, Rúna noticed. She had not swapped the chairs, as one might, but rather left Queen Aslaug's empty while she occupied her former husband's. How strange, Rúna thought, that she does not give a throne to Astrid.
Instead, Astrid was standing a handful of paces behind the throne.
"A gold coin each day?" Lagertha asked, leaning forward as if the runor might suddenly make sense and contradict Rúna. She tucked her pet owl—ironic, Rúna thought, considering Lagertha called Aslaug a witch—closer to her chest as the bird cooed. "That is steep."
"Or goods. Traders and sellers came from Hedeby, and you did not know the fee? Usually, only the Rus and others from the Silk Road had the gold to pay in coin. Those in Hedeby and Tamdrup paid in goods. It is how Queen Aslaug kept Kattegat financed in the absence of raiding."
"Hmm." Lagertha leaned back on her throne, taking up a wine cup offered to her by Astrid, and took a hearty swallow. "And yet my son is raiding."
"If it pleases the gods, then Kattegat will be richer for his raiding." Rúna clasped her hands behind her back. "Björn can show you how Queen Aslaug kept these accounts when he returns."
"You cannot?" Gritting her teeth, Rúna dropped her gaze to Lagertha's feet.
"I can," she admitted. "I was taught by Queen Aslaug along with Björn and the princes."
"Unfamiliar with reading and writing runor as I am, I can see that these accounts were written by different people. Am I right to guess you have written some of these yourself, Rúna?"
"I have."
"Good." Lagertha rose from her throne, waving one hand to summon Astrid before clapping the other on Rúna's shoulder. "Then I would like you to spend some time here today to explain it all to me, Rúna."
Cursing her manners, Rúna made herself say, "Of course."
She was late for meeting Ivar, Sigurd, and Ubbe at the swimming hole the brothers preferred. Her blackberry basket became an offering of apology. "Nice of you to come," Sigurd teased, ducking his head and then spitting a stream of water at her. Rúna stepped behind Ivar, sitting on the bank, to avoid getting wet.
"I found Astrid," she whispered. "At the waterfall. But then I got summoned to the great hall to teach Lagertha about the spending and profit accounts Queen Aslaug kept. I am more trustworthy than the lot of you, it seems."
"I hope you taught her everything wrong," Ivar groused, taking a handful of the blackberries for himself.
"I did consider it," Rúna admitted, "but as you are all still princes, and intend on retaking the kingdom, I thought you might like to have some wealth when all is said and done." She took a seat on the bank beside Ivar, tucking her skirts beneath her. Ubbe and Sigurd drew closer to the shore so they could all talk in even softer whispers than they were already using. Ubbe crossed his arms on the bank, resting his chin on top.
"You are confident you can keep her in the forest?" He asked, more breath than voice.
"I know these woods better than her," Rúna answered, lifting her chin. "I'll take her far from the river, where the forest is thicker and easy to get lost in if you do not know your way."
"Go armed, at least," Ivar said around his mouthful of berries, taking a moment to touch her hand. "You trust her, but I do not."
"Is it really best to do this now?" Sigurd's doubt was clear on his face. "Might it be better to wait until we have returned from England and avenged Father?"
"We are not avenging Father without Hvitserk and Björn," came a snap from Ivar. "How is it beneficial to our cause for Björn to be in Kattegat when we strike? Do you really think Björn Ironside would take well to our killing his mother?"
"And we cannot count on an allyship with Harald," Ubbe added, much softer than Ivar. "We could be greatly outnumbered should we wait."
"Björn is the heir, now, with Lagertha on the throne," Rúna further pointed out. "Unless it's taken before he returns, he may have support. He's no stranger to Kattegat, unlike Lagertha." She looked down at her skirts, picking at the embroidery. "Björn did not come to Kattegat with an army at his back and leave the streets filled with blood before killing Queen Aslaug because they were 'his people'."
Sighing, Rúna met each of their gaze in turn. "There were only shieldmaidens from Hedeby in the hall, save for Torvi. I think Lagertha understands her rule is not as supported as she wants… and her claim certainly will not strengthen with Ragnar's death."
"See? It is settled. We do it before, but the question still remains how to do it."
"And Margrethe," Ivar and Sigurd spoke in unison.
At that, Ubbe balked. "I am not so sure we should kill her, brothers. She is but a slave, remember? Rúna has reminded us enough times in the past that Margrethe has no free will, being a slave."
Stiffening at having her own words thrown back at her, Rúna grimaced. "She was Queen Aslaug's slave," she clarified. "Bound to your mother's command. Not Torvi's. Not Lagertha's. Her part in this was betrayal, not duty."
"If not for Mother, then why not yourself?" Sigurd taunted, using Ubbe's words now. "She made a fool of each of us, Ubbe. How does that make you feel? A slave girl, not even Viking like us, trapping us and holding us hostage while our mother was killed? I will tell you how it makes me feel, Ubbe, and that is furious."
Bright blue eyes darted over the three serious, set faces of Ivar, Rúna, and Sigurd. "Lagertha first," Ubbe insisted. "We risk raising suspicion if Margrethe were to turn up dead beforehand. The day is already more than half over, and Lagertha wants us in the hall tonight. Tomorrow, brothers, we will go to Frodde and make sure our weapons are fortified and in top condition. In a few days' time, Lagertha will be dead, and Kattegat will be ours again."
"What is this curious little carving?" Rúna asked, lifting the chess piece from the table. It was dyed dark with the stain of Ivar's blood, now, slightly sticky under her touch.
"It is for a game called 'chess'," Ivar explained. He put on a good face for his brothers, but his legs still pained him in the aftermath of his journey to and from England. Laying flat on the floor, Ivar's legs were as straight as they could be, feet pressed flush with the cabin wall. The hardness of the wooden floor helped, sometimes. It was helping today. "I learned to play with Prince Alfred, grandson of King Ecbert. The man Father turned himself over to."
"How do you play?" She asked, setting the king piece back down to the table with a click of wood on wood. Rúna moved from the table, lowering herself to the floor and taking Ivar's head into her lap.
"It is a strategy game," he told her. "Not at all unlike hnefatafl. Only, chess has more rules. You cannot move as easily around the board, and there is a hierarchy to the pieces."
"Oh?" It felt good when she ran her fingers through his hair, fingernails tingling over his scalp. Her thighs were warm beneath his head and neck.
"Mmm," he couldn't currently gather his thoughts enough to explain. Instead, he promised, "I will teach you. Perhaps when we are in England."
A derisive snort met his ears at that. He opened his eyes to take in the sight of Rúna, upside down above him. She was looking at the wall, thinking. "If Helga and Floki allow me to go."
"How can they not? Avenging Ragnar Lothbrok will be the duty of every able Viking and shieldmaiden in Kattegat. You are a shieldmaiden, are you not, Rúna?"
"In training if not in practice." He rolled over, pushing himself up so that he, too, was sitting. Reaching for her, Ivar ran the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. Though she smiled under his touch, he could tell that her thoughts were elsewhere. It was her turn to reach for him, pulling him into a hug. "I am sorry for your mother and father, Ivar."
"Father will be with Odin," Ivar told her, voice thick with emotion. "And Mother is safe with Hel, I am sure. I know she is happy I still live, but I am saddened I will never see her again."
He might have said more, but tears choked out further words. They soaked into her dress, wet and hot, searing into her shoulder. "You still have Floki," she reminded him, though she doubted it brought much comfort in the face of his double-edged grief. "And all your brothers."
"And you," he managed to get out between sobs.
"Yes, and me. Always."
Lagertha's announcement was only that she was instructing all of Kattegat to begin working on fortifications for the kingdom. Not a bad idea, in Rúna's opinion. They no longer had Aslaug's visions nor Ragnar's legacy to rely on. When Ragnar was only missing, not presumed dead, the idea that he may return was enough to keep other Viking settlements at bay.
Still, Aslaug's throne sat beside Lagertha. Still, Astrid did not occupy it. The shieldmaiden stood to the sides, a few paces back. Never equal, Rúna thought, glancing to her left where Ivar sat beside her. Even as children, when Ivar was contemptuous at best, never did he make her feel less than him. He was a royal born and she—technically—a nameless orphan, but she had always considered herself on equal footing with the prince beside her. The thought of being in a position such as Astrid's was so upsetting that she held her hand out. Ivar took it immediately, without question.
But that had all happened the night before. It was midday, now, and Rúna had little time to think of Lagertha. In accordance with the forming plan, Rúna was avoiding town as she had done before Ivar's return. She had plans of her own that day, tying up a bundle of food in a clean cloth to protect it from the gusting winds outside. Clouds hung heavy in the sky, and the wind blew with an icy chill despite the coming summer. Rúna tucked the bundle and a jug of mead under her cloak before venturing out to the Seer's hovel.
As she walked, the squawking call of birds drew her attention upward. Ravens circled the skies in numbers like she had never seen. Odin. There was no other explanation than the Allfather, Rúna knew. A shiver ran down her back as she ducked inside the Seer's dwelling.
"Seidmadhr?" With his black cloak, smoke filling the room, and the dim light afforded by the overcast day, the Seer easily blended into the shadows. A rattling breath alerted Rúna to his position, her eyes adjusting to the gloom so she could just make out his figure in the corner.
"Have you more questions, Rúna?"
She picked her path carefully through the clutter. There was a table not far from where the Seer sat with his head lolling back against the wall. Rúna placed the food and mead on the table, beside a pot of smoldering herbs. So that is where the smoke came from.
"No, Seidmadhr, only… it is done, then? Odin's ravens fill the sky, and the wind carries the chill of death. King Ragnar is dead?"
The approximation of a laugh slipped between the Seer's blackened lips. "Always worrying about the fate of others over your own. Yes, Rúna. The Valkyries are heralding Ragnar Lothbrok to Odin's hall in Valhalla as we speak."
His head lolled to the side, so that he faced her. "You need not call him king any longer, Rúna, the same as you do not call Lagertha queen. New rulers are coming, as you well know. Thank you for the food and mead, my child." Another shiver passed through her at this reminder of her fate. The Seer turned his head skyward again, a sigh rattling from him. It was clear she had been dismissed.
She retraced her steps through the hovel, emerging from the smoky interior to a day turned to storm. The wind ripped through her cloak, sending it and her skirts swirling around her and tugging at her hair. Thunder rumbled loud enough to shake her bones. Thor is welcoming Ragnar, she mused, drawing her hood up and holding tightly to it as she ran against the wind. She made it home shortly before three sons of Ragnar came up the path, Ivar carried on Ubbe's back.
No words were needed. Rúna opened the cabin door for the brothers, pulling it shut once all three were inside.
"Father is dead," Ivar said, voice hollow, as Ubbe placed him into a chair. "We saw Odin."
"I saw the ravens and heard the thunder."
"Did you hear his voice?" Sigurd asked, face a mix of pain and wonder. "Father's voice. 'How the little piggies will grunt when they hear how the old boar suffered'."
"Last I checked, there were only five sires of Ragnar, and I am not in that number," Rúna pointed out. "I did not hear Ragnar. Only ravens and thunder." And the Seer.
"Lagertha must die. Soon." A knife had been left on the table, an oversight of Rúna's. Ivar picked it up, sticking the point into the table and spinning the blade by its handle. "Björn is surely on his way home."
"How would you know?"
The question earned Sigurd a murderous glare from Ivar. He flipped the knife in his hand, using the tip of the blade to tap his temple. "Think, idiot. Do you really think Odin would visit the three of us and not Björn and Hvitserk also? Hmm?"
Ubbe laid a hand on Ivar's shoulder, squeezing tightly for a moment. A warning. "We also need to do it smartly. Aside from having Rúna distract Astrid, we have no set plan. And now that Father is dead, we have to also make plans to avenge Ragnar."
"For Father, that is easy. I already told you. We get revenge on King Ecbert and lay waste to the Christians." Ivar waved his brother's concern away with a flick of the knife. "And King Aelle, as you keep reminding me, but Ecbert comes first. Father wanted Ecbert and his kingdom, specifically, to suffer."
"Does King Ecbert not have the larger kingdom?" Rúna asked, brow crumpling. "He is more unified than Norway, no? Would Kattegat be enough?"
"No," Ubbe insisted. "Alone? No. With the forces Björn returns with and Lagertha's shieldmaidens, should she provide them? I still have my doubts."
"Then we will raise an army," Sigurd shrugged. "That's an easy solution."
"An army of who, Sigurd? Kattegat and Tamdrup? Larger than Hedeby, surely, but still not enough. All of you are too young to remember. Rollo's forces in Frankia are comparable to what Ecbert holds in England. We would see defeat just as Father did."
"So, we will raise a great army," Ivar expanded on Sigurd's thoughts. "Every king and earl we know, we will call in favors to them. Even if we hate them. Especially if we hate them, for then we will not care if we lose their numbers in the fighting and will have less to worry about when we return home. The largest army Norway has ever seen, to wage war on the entire world for Father's death."
Shrugging, Ivar turned back to Sigurd. "The more pressing issue is why you have no desire to avenge our mother."
"You and I have very different memories of Mother, Ivar. She doted on you while she ignored me. She only had love for you… and Harbard. Remember Harbard? Rúna remembers, don't you?"
Stiffening, Rúna crossed her arms over her chest. "I remember that Harbard drowned Siggy, yes. Not Ivar or Aslaug. You know this to be true, Sigurd."
"She was still your mother. What kind of son are you, to not be angry that Lagertha killed her for no reason?"
"What do you want me to say, Ivar? Huh? Do you want me to apologize for not being the mummy's boy that you are? Lagertha's killing Mother doesn't bother me the way it does you, Little Ivar. Little mummy's boy." Immature taunts, yet enough to rile Ivar's anger so that he struck out, lightning quick, to pull the chair out from beneath Sigurd. The other boy fell with a crash to the floor, trying and failing to catch himself on the edge of the table. Sigurd was quick to retaliate, continuing the streak of pettiness by pulling at Ivar's chair, too.
Ubbe caught Ivar in the nick of time, wrapping his arms around the younger boy's chest to keep him from falling the way Sigurd had. "Stop it!"
"We aren't going to get anything done if the two of you don't stop fighting," Rúna tacked on to Ubbe's roar of disapproval. Sigurd turned, fixing her with one of his serpentine glares.
"What would you even know about these matters, Rúna? Helga isn't your mother. You can't even say who that woman is, some forgettable whore in some brothel in Norway, surely, if she is even still alive."
It was as if all the air had been sucked from the room. Sigurd had never spoken to her that way. Rúna froze, face heating as if she had been struck. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Still, she found her throat too thick to get any retort out. But she needn't.
After only the briefest of shocked pauses, Ivar grabbed the knife he had been toying with and turned it on Sigurd. Only Ubbe's quick reflex stopped Ivar's arm short, keeping Sigurd from finding that knife imbedded in his face. "Go, Sigurd. Now."
The fights between the youngest of Ragnar's sons were infamous, but never had either come so close to mortally wounding the other. Sigurd did not even argue with Ubbe. He pushed himself to his feet, walking quickly to the door. A final look thrown over his shoulder put his shocked, colorless face on display for Rúna. Immediately, she dropped her head, unable to meet his gaze without the restrained tears threatening to break free.
She jumped when the door slammed behind Sigurd. Moving forward, Rúna took the hand still holding the knife and worked it out of Ivar's grasp. She set it up on the mantle above the hearth, where it would be out of his reach. Perhaps that was a little mean, but she wanted the blade far from Ivar's hand when he was this angry.
There was some scuffling as Ubbe helped right Ivar back in a chair. Dipping his head low, fair and dark heads contrasting each other, Ubbe whispered something into his brother's ear before clapping him again on the shoulder. Ivar nodded at whatever Ubbe told him, the murderous glare on his features relaxing the slightest bit. Moving past him, Ubbe took Rúna's hand and gave it a squeeze.
"I am sorry," he told her, but she was shaking her head even before he finished the words.
"You don't need to apologize, Ubbe."
"But I wanted to." He gave her hand another squeeze, dipping his head to make sure he was meeting her gaze. There was sincerity in his blue eyes. Regret had colored Sigurd's. Anger was darkening Ivar's. She wondered faintly how much hurt was showing in her own, to garner such reactions.
Not quite able to form the 'thank you' she wanted to give Ubbe, Rúna nodded back to him. He squeezed her hand one more time before withdrawing, making no attempt to prompt Ivar to come with him.
"I'll kill him," Ivar promised, voice hard, once Ubbe was gone. Across the room, Rúna sighed. She tried to ignore how the words had pierced her heart and how they still stung in her chest.
"Not on my account, you won't." The slack-jawed shock on Ivar's face was almost laughable. She went to him, running her thumb over the ridge of the new scar on his cheek. Not for the first time since he returned, she wondered where he had gotten it. The shipwreck caused by the storm? When he and Ragnar killed all their companions? Either way, it was a part of him now. A physical reminder, for her, at least, that things had changed. "He is as hurt as any of you, Ivar. I saw it while you were away."
"He shouldn't have said that to you," he insisted, tipping his head back to look at her where he sat. His hands came to rest on her hips, pulling forward. Not quite smiling, Rúna obliged him and sat lightly on his lap, not wanting her weight to hurt his legs. They still ached him, though it was improving.
"No," she agreed. "But you shouldn't stab your brother in the face, either."
Ivar was calming, but the pouting set of his lips let her know he was not going to let this evening go any time soon. "He would have deserved it."
Rúna shrugged. "Perhaps. But he didn't exactly tell a lie, either, did he?"
At that, Ivar reached up, taking her chin and tilting her face so that she had no choice but to meet his eye. "Yet we know you will be queen, Rúna. My queen."
Smirking, she reminded him, "Only if you and Sigurd do not end up in a brawl to the death."
"Do you doubt me, Rúna?"
"Never, Budlungr. I don't want to talk of Sigurd, though. Tell me of Odin. You are amazingly calm for having met our Allfather."
A slow smile spread across his face. Rúna knew this would be the perfect distraction. "He was just as the stories describe him," Ivar began before diving into a detailed retelling of meeting the leader of the Aesir. Rúna kept him talking until all thoughts of Sigurd were gone from his mind. Ivar relaxed beneath her, excitedly animating his tale with hand motions.
He stayed with her again that night. With Ivar warming her bed, his arm around her waist and his breath tickling the back of her head, Rúna played the scene over again. Mere inches separated the tip of the knife from Sigurd's face, stopped only by Ubbe's quick reflexes.
Gods. Thinking back on it made her shiver. Ivar stirred in his sleeping, pulling her more tightly to him. She smiled despite herself, weaving her fingers through his where his hand rested on her stomach. That had been close.
Rolling over to face him, Rúna studied his face in the dim light. Ivar slept with candles burning, more often than not, she had learned. It made sense. Given his legs and most common form of mobility, he would need to see what was around him. The candles afforded her enough light to just see his features clearly.
His hair was growing shaggy, falling across his forehead in sleep-mussed tufts. Lips parted slightly, eyelids flickering with his dreams. In sleep, he looked younger than his sixteen years. In sleep, he looked nothing like the Ivar who had very nearly killed his brother just that evening.
Far too close.
Ivar argued with Ubbe nearly as much as Sigurd, yet the frustration he felt with Ubbe was nothing in comparison to the rage that Sigurd knew how to stoke. Perhaps it helped, though, that Ubbe had waited to discuss this topic with Ivar until he was prone on his bed with his brother helping him work the persistent stiffness from his legs. "Your legs haven't been this rigid since you used to ride in your cart, Ivar."
Unfortunately, with his face buried in a pillow as it was, teeth gritted tight lest he scream, Ivar was unable to give Ubbe any kind of answer. And all his brother had done was bend his left leg at the knee. When the initial stab of pain dissipated, Ivar lifted his face, panting. "I lost my bindings in the storm. Father tied my legs together, so I might crawl, but it wasn't enough support."
"Mmm. I have been thinking," Ubbe ventured, working Ivar's leg like a lever to ease what limited mobility could be had back into it, "perhaps we should let Lagertha begin her defense preparations. She is not wrong in that we will need them, especially when we are all away. I think, too, that we should invite her to join our army. It would not go amiss if we did not extend the opportunity to her. Usurper and murderer she may be, but she is also Father's first wife and Björn's mother."
By then, Ubbe had moved on to his left ankle, flexing it slowly in his hands. Biting back a whimper, Ivar buried his face again. He couldn't help the groan that slipped through his lips, eyes shut tight against the pain. Again, he had to ride it out before he could answer Ubbe.
"I hate to admit that you are right," he said into the pillow. Still, the fabric and feathers were not enough to muffle his annoyance. "Best if you do the inviting, Ubbe. We cannot rely on Sigurd in this. He has made that clear. I want to kill Lagertha each time I see her… I can admit I would not be able to make a sincere offer to her."
"I will go tomorrow afternoon," Ubbe decided. "Let Rúna know to be ready come the next morning. For now… lay your head and rest, Ivar. We need your strength for this to work."
"You share her bed but not her throne. It hardly seems fair to me." This time when Rúna 'happened' upon Astrid in the forest, her pocket was weighed down with the same knife Ivar had nearly stabbed Sigurd with. Astrid started; Rúna had dressed carefully for this occasion. The leather of her boots cushioned her footsteps, making them nearly silent as she had edged into the clearing surrounding the waterfall Astrid so loved.
They regarded each other across the expanse of the clearing. Astrid was backdropped by the tumbling waterfall; Rúna by the forest, filled with morning birdsong. A lengthy silence ensued. Rúna counted thirteen of her pounding heartbeats before Astrid spoke. "There have never been two ruling queens."
"Astrid, if there is anything I learned from Aslaug, it was that queens do as they please." Walking slowly, Rúna began to bridge the gap between them. "She listened to you about not harming Ubbe and Sigurd, yes? But now, from what I have seen, Lagertha regards you as a servant. One who warms her bed, but also one who does errands such as collecting the shipbuilder's daughter and handing her wine."
She drew close enough to place a hand on the other girl's shoulder. Rúna had trained with Astrid in the past. Lagertha's influence showed in the older girl's fighting. She was strong and quick, Rúna knew. Would she be strong enough to hold her off, if this came to blows?
Astrid would not meet her eye, bright blue gaze stubbornly fixed on the forest floor beneath their feet. "Forgive me for saying so, Astrid, if I am wrong, but this is not how it seemed when I trained with you and Lagertha."
"You served one queen and now have another, but you are not a queen yourself, Rúna." Yet, a small voice in the back of her head tacked on to Astrid's words.
"And it seems neither will you be, Astrid, love a queen as you may." Rúna swallowed, straightened her shoulders, and prepared herself. "Honestly, does it not bother you? That she doesn't treat you as her equal?"
"No one could be Lagertha's equal." Astrid's shoulder went stiff beneath Rúna's hand. Only now did she raise her head, meeting Rúna's eyes with a haughty expression. "She is the most famous shieldmaiden in all Norway."
Here was her opening. Tilting her head to the side, Rúna scrutinized Astrid for a moment. "Walk with me, so I might explain. I do not mean to insult, it is just… I don't understand it."
A beat passed where Astrid stared at her, face betraying nothing. Then she threaded her arm through Rúna's and fell in step behind her. "I am an orphan, you know," she began. An echo of the hurt Sigurd dealt her throbbed in her chest, but she made herself ignore it. "Floki and Helga are not my natural parents. Yet my name is Rúna Flokisdottir."
"Lagertha is not my mother," Astrid snapped. Flicking her gaze up, Rúna saw that while Astrid had agreed to walk with her, she was none too pleased.
"No, but… Helga and Floki have never made me feel less. That is what I meant. I come from nothing, Astrid. I could not tell you who my natural parents are, and I grew up in a brothel until I was six years old. Then I was sold, did you know that? Helga had to hand over coin for me to leave, and this only happened because Aslaug wanted a child to play with Ivar."
Beside her, Astrid stayed silent. Rúna sighed before continuing. "Aslaug saw me as less, I will admit, but I never much care about her opinion of me. What was important was that Ivar did not see me as less."
"How could he? You are not deformed as he is." Anger flared, white hot, all through Rúna at Astrid's disparaging tone. She came to a sudden stop, bringing Astrid with her.
"And?" She asked, contempt coloring her words. "Ivar is smart. He's funny, too, if he likes you. You think his legs make him weak? I don't know anyone stronger than Ivar. Or more loyal, but how could you know? You do not see him past his legs."
Staring up at Astrid's shocked face, Rúna felt a little tug of satisfaction. She had taken her companion off guard. "He is a prince, crippled legs or no," Rúna reminded her. "And I was an orphan from a brothel. Yet it did not matter then, and it does not matter now. I don't know your past, Astrid, but can you say the same about Lagertha? Forget her saga as the most famous shieldmaiden, her past earldom, her reign as Queen of Kattegat. Can you say that Lagertha treats you as her equal?"
"You do not know Lagertha," came Astrid's retort, after several beats of silence.
"I know what my own eyes have shown me," Rúna countered. "Ragnar is dead. Odin himself told the event of his death to Ivar and his brothers. Lagertha can no longer wait for him, not in this life. Tell me, Astrid, are you going to be given his place now?"
Rúna cocked her head to the side, waiting. Beneath the ink of her tattoos, Astrid's neck was staining red with her ire. "Come. I will show you the place Lagertha took me, the day so long ago that we trained together and you were sent to Björn and Torvi."
"What is this game, Rúna?" Astrid asked, suspicion beginning to color her tone though she let herself be led forward once again.
"No game," Rúna lied in response, making up for it with a truth she had not yet spoken aloud. "It is only that I know too well what it is to be bent to the will of a queen. I intend to never lead my life in such a way again, and I don't think you should, either."
"I can and do choose to do as I like."
"Yes, and I am glad you do. I just think you should be paying attention, is all."
"To what, exactly?" Now that Rúna knew the way, the walk to the gods' beach was not so long. The closer they drew, the quieter the forest became. As the trees thinned, the beach came into view. The sun-bleached sand was obscured from view, taken up by the glossy black ravens resting all along the shore. Odin's ravens.
They paid no mind to the young women standing at the forest's edge. A few errant caws sounded as the ravens moved about one another, hunkering down in groups to rest.
"To how Lagertha treats you now that she knows she's lost Ragnar forever," Rúna whispered, not wanting to disturb the birds. One hopped forward, breaking from the others. Curious little thing, it stopped just short of the young women. Rúna crouched immediately, running her forefingers over the glossy black feathers on its head. After a pause, Astrid joined her. She pulled a hunk of bread from her pocket, breaking off a piece and crumbling it before offering it to the raven in her open palm.
She breaks her fast at the waterfall. Rúna watched as the raven pecked away at the breadcrumbs. The raven ate its fill from Astrid's hand before dipping its head, as if thanking them, and hopping away to rejoin the others. Turning at the same time, the young women smiled at each other. For that moment, despite their earlier disputes, they were united by the fascination of an over-curious raven.
Then the sound of a horn, faint but clear, flowed to them on the breeze. Rúna watched Astrid's eyes go wide in panic. She was sure her own face looked much the same. They straightened at once, turning toward home, all else forgotten.
Running beside Astrid, Rúna tried to keep the worry off her face. The sound of the horn could be heralding so many different things… Had Ubbe and Ivar succeeded? Failed? An opportunistic kingdom or earldom come to ravage Kattegat? By the time they crossed the bridge and arrived in the heart of town, Rúna's lungs and face were burning with the exertion of such a long run. At the markets, they diverged from one another. Rúna had caught sight of Ragnar and Harald's sails filling the harbor; the raiding party had returned. Astrid turned toward the great hall, of course. Toward Lagertha.
She had to find Björn. Stall him. Had they done it yet? Rúna hated not knowing. It did not matter, though, for it was Hvitserk she ran into at full speed. Colliding with him knocked the breath from her. He caught her about the waist, steadying her and laughing. "Going somewhere, Rúna?"
"Where's Björn?" She asked in turn, stretching onto her tiptoes to try to see around the masses of Vikings leaving the ships.
"And here I thought you would be happier to know I had survived. Björn left first. He is probably already in the great hall." Rúna shook her head, pushing away from him.
"No, he can't, Hvitserk." But sure enough, there was the wood-on-wood clang of doors being thrown open and the boom of Björn's voice commanding Ubbe and Ivar to stop. The fight went out of her, so that her steps petered to a stop and Hvitserk easily caught up with her.
"What is going on?" He asked, looking down at her with confusion coloring his features. Sighing, Rúna decided there was nothing else to say but the truth.
"Ubbe and Ivar were going to kill Lagertha," she whispered to him. "She holds Kattegat now."
"But…" Hate it as much as she did, Rúna would have confirmed what he was figuring out for himself, tears swimming in his hazel eyes, but she had only time to take his hand and squeeze it. For in the next moment, she was lifted off her feet, with a greeting of "Little Rúna!" in her ear. Floki spun her in a circle, giggling all the while. By the time the spinning stopped, Hvitserk was gone.
"Floki!" Righted on her feet once more, she threw her arms around her father. "You cannot know how I have missed you and Helga. Everything has changed." Before her, Floki's expression darkened momentarily. But only a moment. Then it brightened once more, like the sun moving out from behind a cloud.
"You don't know how right you are, my daughter." Floki kept a hand on her shoulder, but stepped to the side so that he was next to her. Line of sight now cleared, Rúna was met with Helga. This, of course, brought another smile to her face… until she realized her mother was not alone. Tucked beneath Helga's arm was a young girl with long, curly dark hair, face pale despite her olive skin tone. She wore a richly embroidered red tunic and matching red pants. Her dark eyes were wide in her young face.
"Who is this?" Rúna asked, face crumpling in confusion. Helga only smiled brighter.
"Her name is Tanaruz," Helga explained, leading the girl forward though it was very much obvious she was resistant. "She is your sister, now."
Still confused, Rúna looked to Floki. The smile had fallen from his own face, eyes staring hard at Helga. Finding herself at a loss of what to do, and with a torrent of emotions roiling inside her—from fear to worry to anger—Rúna held her hand out to the scared girl before her.
Tanaruz stared at her for a moment, questioning this show of acceptance. Rúna found herself giving the girl a soft smile, waggling her fingers as she waited. To her surprise, Tanaruz's dark eyes flicked up to hers, almost curious despite the overwhelming fear. She did not smile back, but she did step out from Helga's hold of her to take hold of Rúna's hand.
Her grip was so tight it stung. "Tanaruz?" Rúna asked, inclining her head toward the girl. Confirmation came in a small nod of the head, nearly imperceptible. Laying her free hand on her chest, she gave her own name. "Rúna."
"Rúna?" Tanaruz said, voice cracking over the name. Nodding, Rúna gave her another smile. She swept her arm out, gesturing to the town around them.
"Kattegat," she told this girl she did not know, but who must now be her sister. "Home."
Pulling Tanaruz along with her, Rúna turned toward the great hall. There was no time for further explanation for Helga and Floki. She had to know, to see for herself, if Ivar was unharmed. The girl came willingly enough, falling into step beside her. They met with Ubbe and Ivar just before the great hall, Hvitserk coming to a stop beside them.
"What happened?" Rúna and Hvitserk said, nearly at the same time.
"Who is that?" Ivar countered, pushing himself up into a sitting position and then waving a hand at Tanaruz. Rúna waved her hand back at him; there was no time to explain the girl. Not at that moment.
"We were interrupted by Björn." Ubbe tossed a look over his shoulder. Sigurd was approaching. "Not here. We will discuss this all later."
Their little cluster broke apart. Ubbe took Hvitserk by the arm, leading him away to explain, she guessed. Sigurd glared at Rúna and Ivar in turn before trailing behind his older brothers.
"Rúna, who is that?" Ivar asked again, crawling beside her as she led Tanaruz back to Helga and Floki.
"Tanaruz. She is to be my sister." Tugging on the younger girl's hand, Rúna inclined her head to her other side. "Ivar."
"Ivar?" Tanaruz repeated back to her, voice stronger now. She spoke with a thick accent coloring her words. Rúna nodded. From the ground where he crawled, Ivar gave her a smile. He wore his hair greased back, now, still shaved short at the sides.
"You've grown shaggy, Budlungr. Helga could cut it for you."
"I'd rather you braid it for me, when it's long enough, Rúna."
They were reunited with Helga and Floki by this point. Helga drew Tanaruz away from Rúna, the girl only a little resistant to her touch. With quick steps, Helga took Tanaruz from the bustling crowd. Floki regarded the pair left before him.
"Kattegat has changed," he said simply, pointing to the flags that now flew at the harbor. Lagertha's flags. "What was that noise about in the great hall, Ivar?"
Bending at the waist, Floki lifted Ivar and tossed him over his shoulder. It would be quicker to catch up with Helga if he was carried.
"A failure." Ivar snapped, giving no other explanation.
From the moment they met, Tanaruz became a fixture at Rúna's side. She shared her bed at home, so that her sheets no longer carried Ivar's scent, but now that of Tanaruz. The girl came with her all places, from her chores to the forest to the town, and all the while Rúna labeled things for her so that Tanaruz might learn their language. Sometimes Tanaruz did the same for Rúna, providing the name of something in her own language.
She hoped, eventually, they would understand each other.
Rúna had given Tanaruz some of her old clothing, so that she was dressed properly in Viking garb. The younger girl allowed Rúna to braid her thick, long hair, but preferred to cover Rúna's work with a shawl to serve as a type of veil. Rúna fashioned a headband from a length of leather cord to keep the covering in place for her.
Tanaruz was with Rúna, dressed in her unusual way, when she met with four of five sons of Ragnar to discuss what had gone wrong with their assassination attempt. As she had done when Tanaruz met Ivar, Rúna named each brother in turn while Tanaruz repeated the names back to her.
"How do we know she will not tell what is discussed here?" Sigurd asked, eyeing the girl warily. That earned him a laugh from Hvitserk and an eye roll from Ivar.
"She is from a land called Iberia," Hvitserk told them. "I remember her in the raiding. King Harald and Halfdan killed her parents, I think. They do not know our language, brother. Our uncle says they are not Christian, but rather Moors, and worship a god named Allah."
"Besides that, she is too frightened to speak to anyone but Rúna." Ivar pointed out.
"I would be frightened to speak to you as well, Ivar." Another dark look was thrown Sigurd's way, but Ivar refrained from hitting him. This time. Rolling her eyes, Rúna plucked an apple from the bowl of fruit on Ubbe's table, taking a bite before giving it to Tanaruz. She placed the girl on a bench beneath the window.
"She won't eat anything unless I take a bite first," Rúna explained at Hvitserk and Ubbe's questioning looks. "Except pig… she will not touch that, at all." Shrugging, she took a seat beside Ivar.
"So," Hvitserk started, spinning his cup between his palms, "all of you staged a failed execution?"
"My part was successful," Rúna pointed out. "Leave me out of the failure."
"Not all of us," Ivar corrected, throwing another glare Sigurd's way. "One was too cowardly."
"Lagertha did all of us a favor when she killed Mother, except for you, Ivar." Sigurd snapped. "Hvitserk and Ubbe nearly died from her neglect. They almost drowned, same as Siggy."
"Just say you are too scared to show any direction or ambition, Sigurd, rather than clutching at excuses to cover your weakness."
Red-faced, Sigurd opened his mouth to lobby another rebuttal, but his words were killed by Ubbe smacking his fist down heavily on the table. "Enough. The gods showed us yesterday that it is not our time to kill Lagertha, yet. Someone will need to hold Kattegat while we are away. At the very least we know Lagertha will not squander it before we return."
Swinging his head to the left, Ubbe fixed Hvitserk with a look. "Will you join Ivar and I, brother?"
Hvitserk took an apple for himself, taking a big bite and shrugging as he chewed. "I don't see why not. If raiding gets the blood up, I can only imagine what taking back a kingdom will do."
"And Rúna?" Ubbe asked. "As you said, you were our only success. You would help us again?"
"Just tell me how."
Satisfied, Ivar smiled and took Rúna's hand. He lifted it from below the table, raising it to his lips and skimming a kiss over her knuckles. "Coward," he mouthed to Sigurd, over top of Rúna's hand. His satisfaction only doubled when his brother's cheeks blotched a shade of red so angry and deep that it was nearly purple.
A/N: After doing some research about Spain (or, Iberia, as I had Hvitserk name it in this chapter) and its history, I decided to try to make Tanaruz's portrayal a little more accurate. She speaks Latin in the show, from what I have gathered, but in actuality she should speak Old Arabic according to my own research. She would be of Moorish descent, most likely, so that is accurate. I can't find much on differences between ancient Moors and modern Islam... if there are that you know of, please tell me, but otherwise I'll be referring to Islam when showing religious differences between Tanaruz and Rúna.
Please, do not hesitate to correct me if I misuse or inaccurately portray Islamic beliefs in any way. I plan on keeping it minimal, but since religion features heavily in the show, I would like to show more of Tanaruz's religious background than the show did.
Also, I know this chapter was rather light on Ivar/Rúna moments. I will be making up for that next chapter, don't worry!
And, finally, thank you to the following for reviews last chapter: Puffgirl1952 the 2nd, mickypants, taylor115, and Jomobabe45