Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Great Heathen Army

Kattegat had always been busy, but now the air was filled with the bangs of hammers and voices of workers building Lagertha's defenses. Not to mention all the voices—ships came in daily, now, bringing more and more forces for the great army to avenge Ragnar. The clanging of metal from Frode's smithery joined the din, so that Rúna spoke low to Tanaruz as she led the girl into town.

"We are going to buy leather," Rúna was explaining to her. "So that Floki can make you proper shoes for living here." While she knew Tanaruz didn't understand much—if anything—that Rúna said to her, she knew the more she spoke, the more words Tanaruz would learn. Or so she hoped. Torvi did the same for Asa. If it worked for a baby, it should work for a girl of about twelve, Rúna figured.

Currently, Tanaruz wore the only shoes she had—little red silk slippers that had matched the tunic and trousers she wore when she arrived in Kattegat. They would serve well enough for the time being, with summer coming on, but warm weather was brief in Norway. Soon she would need proper boots to keep her warm.

The girls were crossing the bridge when a flash of flaxen gold caught Rúna's attention from the corner of her eye. A cold panic instantly gripped her heart, pulling the memory of Siggy floating in the same river anew in the front of her mind. But it was not Siggy, of course, that met her eye when Rúna came to a stop and turned instead toward the river.

"Margrethe," she said softly. Below them, the current pulled the body of the slave girl at its whim.

"Mayt," Tanaruz said beside her. Rúna knew it was not a botched echo of Margrethe's name. She nodded, squeezing the younger girl's hand in hers.

"Dead." A dark, purple ring of bruising circled Margrethe's throat like a necklace. Her flaxen hair fanned out around her head, all color from her cheeks bleached so that her skin was just as fair. Rúna shivered, remembering the chill of both Siggy and Aslaug when she had touched their dead skin.

With her billowing hair and skirts and the gentle current of the river, Margrethe looked almost… peaceful.

Tanaruz tugged on her hand. Her face was drawn, eyes flicking upward as she thought. Then, pointing, she asked, "Frændi?"

"Not quite," Rúna murmured before remembering to shake her head. Nonverbal cues were easier for the girl to understand. Then she smiled, because for the first time, Tanaruz had used one of the Viking words Rúna had taught her. "That was good, Tanaruz."

A smile started to form on the younger girl's face, but swiftly fell as she became wide-eyed, gaze shifting to just behind Rúna. In the next moment, she felt Ubbe's hand on her back. He dipped his head close to hers, simply asking, "Ivar?"

"No," she told him confidently. "He is with Floki right now. She, um, hasn't been in the water long… Siggy was bloated when Sigurd and I took her from the river."

After she uttered Sigurd's name, the words fell slower and slower from her mouth as realization crept into her mind. Sigurd. Another shiver ran through her.

"Well, I guess you were not the only one successful in their part, Rúna. Take Tanaruz on to town. I will find Hvitserk and we will handle this."

Nodding, Rúna led the younger girl on into the heart of the bustling town, heading straight for the tannery. After Hvitserk had revealed that he was almost certain King Harald and Halfdan had killed Tanaruz's parents, Rúna didn't like to have the girl linger in town lest they run into Tamdrup's ruler and his brother.

When they went back over the bridge, there was no sight of Margrethe. Rúna loosed a sigh of relief, leading Tanaruz back home. She felt entirely at ease once her feet hit the sand of the stretch of beach Floki maintained. On the dock sat a dark-haired figure—Ivar. Pressing the leather into Tanaruz's hands, she told the girl to take it to Floki and pointed toward his workshop.

"Lose your shadow?" Ivar asked, holding a hand aloft to help her sit on the edge of the pier beside him. In his other hand he held the bright fruit that Floki had brought back from the Mediterranean.

"I sent her to Floki. Have you tasted that? I love them. Tanaruz calls them bortoqal."

"These?" Ivar asked, holding the fruit aloft and face crumpling in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Hvitserk said they are so bitter, he wanted to vomit. Hvitserk. Who will eat anything."

Leaning across him Rúna snatched the fruit from his hand. She rolled it between her palms and shook her head. "You have to take the skin off. The pieces inside taste like sunshine."

"Sunshine?" He asked, leaning back and watching Rúna get to work peeling. As she tore the skin off, a pleasant, tangy smell began to fill the air.

"Yes, sunshine." The sun was indeed shining on them, warming the tops of their heads. Clouds choked the sky, though, leaving the sunshine intermittent as they scuttled along. "Did Floki let you peek?"

Rúna knew of the chariot, as Floki had called it, being built some ways into the woods. Days ago, Ivar had asked Floki for help, to create something that would allow Ivar to join the fray of war once the army landed in England. Already, it was half-built. Rúna was dressed in her shieldmaiden clothing; she would be helping Floki that evening.

"No. He will not budge." With the fruit free of the thick skin, Rúna carefully broke off a slice. Juice ran down her hand as she did so, a little rivulet racing toward her wrist. Lifting her hand, she offered the section of fruit to him. Ivar caught her wrist and drew her hand up to his mouth. The feel of his lips on her skin left Rúna's breath stuttering, making Ivar smirk as he took the fruit into his mouth. He kept hold of her hand, still smirking, as he bit down and bright, tangy juice flooded his tongue.

Chewing slowly, he watched her gaze flick down to the waves below their feet, trying to regain her composure. "You are a brat, Budlungr."

"So you've told me for most of my life." Running the pad of his thumb across her knuckles, he continued, "I miss you."

"I am sitting right next to you," Rúna told him, cheeks turning pink as she glanced over her shoulder. But they were alone on the beach, no sign of either her parents or Tanaruz. When he returned from England, Ivar's legs had been in such pain that these thoughts were not even on the fringes of his mind. Now that they were righted, though, and no longer hurting him day and night, Rúna occupied his thoughts more so even than his thoughts of revenge.

"I'd rather you were much closer." This comment turned her blush deeper. Rúna peeked over her shoulder again, confirming they were still alone, before kissing him. Their forgotten orange rolled from her lap when she shifted herself to be closer to him, splashing into the waves below. She made sure to pull away before they got too carried away, though. With Ivar's hand gripping her thigh, she bit her lip, checking for the third time that they had not been caught.

"Leave your shadow a bit longer," he urged her. "Floki is making shoes for her, no? He told me that was his work for the afternoon. Come with me."

Looking toward Floki's workspace, where she had sent Tanaruz, Rúna gave a small nod. Then she turned to him, making sure to mee this eye. "Margrethe is dead. We saw her, in the river, me and Tanaruz. I meant to tell you that earlier, but I… got distracted."

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise, Ivar rocked back from her. "Huh." He frowned, cocking his head to the side and looking out at the water before them. "I did not think Sigurd had it in him."

Ivar didn't give his brother's actions much consideration, though. Shrugging, he scooted back to bring his legs onto the pier before rolling onto his hands.

"You are not more concerned?" Rúna asked, pushing herself up to walk beside him.

"That my brother killed a slave I never cared about?" He shot back. "No. I presently have other concerns."

Rolling her eyes, Rúna pressed on. "This will draw suspicion, surely."

"Ubbe and I already publicly made an attempt on Lagertha's life," Ivar reminded her. "Good for Sigurd. I never thought I would say it about him, but I am impressed."

Still, Rúna couldn't help but shiver when they passed over the bridge. The fact that Sigurd had chosen to drown Margrethe, just like Siggy had been, unsettled her deeply. Frowning, she pushed the thoughts from her mind as she followed Ivar into his cabin. She slipped the lock into place behind them.

"We sail for England in two days," Ivar mused, pulling himself up onto his bed. "You are coming, yes?"

"Floki's having proper armor made for me as we speak." She drifted close to him, letting Ivar settle her onto his lap. Much easier in her pants than skirts, she thought. "You won't be leaving me behind this time."

Ivar ran his hands up her legs from knees to hips, causing her eyes to flutter. Dipping his head, he trailed his mouth along the length of her neck. "Are you going to tell me what Floki is building for me?"

"No," she told him, laughing breathily and giving him a gentle push. Ivar let himself fall back onto the bed, pouting beneath her. "But I promise you'll like it."

Leaning forward, she framed his face with her hands and kissed him again. Now that they were alone, she took her time, kissing him slowly before breaking apart to trail more kisses over his jawline and down his neck. His hands gripped her hips tightly in response, the stiff leather of his wrist braces biting into her skin through the fabric of her pants.

"Not as much as I am going to enjoy this, surely." He murmured, a hand trailing upward to hold her steady by the waist as he rolled her, giggling, so that she was beneath him. Sliding a hand beneath her tunic, he savored the way she shivered under his touch. Time with Rúna had been sparse since his return and he intended to fully make up for it now.

Just like the first time, she helped him off with his braces and bindings. "You're a hard one to undress, Budlungr," she teased, sitting back to take care of her own boots while Ivar sat up to slip his off.

"At least I know you're committed," he shot back, pulling her back to him. She tasted of the fruit she had given him when he kissed her, and her hands were soft and searching as she helped him out of what clothing remained.

Yes, he intended to enjoy this afternoon indeed.

Before heading home, Rúna had to find Sigurd. She had to know why. Fastening her belt and smoothing a hand over her hair, she asked, "Do I look alright?"

Ivar had not bothered to dress. He sat half-upright in his bed, blankets pulled up only to his waist. "Perhaps I am biased, but I think you look much better than 'alright'."

"Let me rephrase," Rúna amended, pulling on her boots and then drifting back to his bed. She bent to kiss him. "Do I look presentable, or do I look like I just took a tumble through your sheets?"

"If that is the criteria," he said, sliding a hand under her braid to caress the back of her neck, "then I would say that no goddess could compare to you… and that you need to right your braid."

Groaning, Rúna pulled away from him and began to undo her hair. She ran her fingers through to comb it, thankful that she had only done a simple braid that day to keep her hair back while she worked. Re-braiding her hair only took a matter of minutes. "Now?"

"Very respectable. Tell Sigurd I am, for once, impressed."

Duly caught, Rúna stilled on her way to the door. "How did you know I was going to Sigurd?"

"Because I know you, Rúna." Ivar said around a yawn. He sunk deeper into his bed, rolling on his side to watch her. "Did you particularly care for Margrethe? No. But are you still bothered by this turn of events? Yes."

She scrutinized him over her shoulder, but he was hardly wrong. Her fingers hovered over the lock. "I just really didn't think he would do it."

"Neither did I. But, it is done. There is no going back from it."

"I feel bad for him." Rúna thought of her trip to Tamdrup with Sigurd. How his eyes had brimmed with hurt. "He really loved her. And he thought she loved him."

Ivar sighed, not quite looking at her. "You are kinder to him than he deserves, Rúna."

"Perhaps." She gave Ivar one last smile before leaving. Where to find Sigurd? She doubted greatly he would presently be anywhere in town. King's Crown. The outcropping of rock the sons of Ragnar had named after their father. Rúna wasn't sure how she had divined Sigurd's hiding place, but she knew in her heart she was right.

The winds were stronger high up, toying with her braid and whipping Sigurd's loose hair all around. He was sitting with his back to the rocks, knees drawn up, staring despondently into his lap. If he heard her approach, he gave no indication. He didn't look at her even when she sat down beside him.

What words are you meant to give someone who kills their lover? Rúna had none. Beside her, Sigurd sniffled. At a loss of what else to do, Rúna reached for him, pulling him to her so that Sigurd's head rested on her shoulder.

He did not cry. Instead, they simply sat quietly together. Rúna let the wind wash over her and sting her cheeks. She had not said it to Ubbe nor Ivar, but the fact that Sigurd had gone through with killing Margrethe had surprised her. Though she did not think him cowardly, as Ivar had taunted him over the past few days, she didn't think Sigurd capable of murder, either. And to kill Margrethe in that specific way, imitating the way Harbard had killed Siggy…

She was not quite sure how she felt about any of it. Rúna only knew that Sigurd was hurting. That was reason enough to sit beside him until he felt better.

After quite some time, Sigurd pulled away from her. Standing, he held a hand out to her to help her up. "I am sorry for what I said about Helga."

"I am sorry for what happened with Margrethe."

Sigurd scoffed, keeping hold of her hand to help her back down the rocky trek of the cliff. "Then we are both sorry for things we cannot change."

"You didn't do it because of what Ivar said, did you?" She asked, peeking up at him. Sigurd had his head doggedly down, picking their path through the uneven terrain. He was quiet for so long Rúna thought he was going to ignore her.

"Maybe, in a little way. But it was mostly for myself." He brought them to a stop at the base of King's Crown. "I am not going to get any retribution from killing Lagertha like the rest of you. Ubbe gets to keep his status as heir. Hvitserk gets to fight, which makes him happy regardless of what it is for. Ivar gets revenge for his mummy. You get the satisfaction of dealing the same hand Lagertha dealt you. I was never going to get that from the failed plot you all put together."

Tilting her head back, Rúna met his serpentine gaze head on. "Is that what killing Margrethe gave you, Sigurd? Retribution?" She thought again of Margrethe's body floating in the river. As if Siggy continued to haunt her, aging alongside her. A wet sheen overtook his eyes and Sigurd looked up at the sky, blinking back tears. He loosed a deep, shaky breath.

"Yes," Sigurd croaked. "And it broke my heart. But, yes."

Reaching up, Rúna wicked away the errant tear he wasn't able to blink back. "Then her death wasn't for nothing."

The first time Rúna donned her armor, it was for Tanaruz and Helga. Floki was in the forest, putting the finishing touches on Ivar's chariot before heading into town to fetch him and reveal the surprise. A thin, chainmail shirt comprised the first layer, with thick, boiled leather. The leather layer was dark brown, studded throughout, and embossed on the chest with the Gungnir rune. Odin's spear. A symbol of power and protection.

There were vambraces to protect her forearms, as well, made of the same thick leather. Despite the thickness, she found it was still easy enough to swing her sword about. Helga insisted they go outside, so Rúna could practice with each of her weapons and ensure the armor was a good fit that wouldn't hamper her.

"It is not chafing?" Helga asked for what must have been the thousandth time, now holding out Rúna's axe for her to practice throwing. Taking her axe, Rúna took careful aim of a tree some yards away. The blade sunk into the trunk easily.

"No, it feels good. Really, it's not as heavy as I first thought when I put it on. I just had to get used to it."

Tanaruz watched this display with wide, dark eyes. Some of her fear seemed to subside when Rúna turned to smile at her. Björn had not taken any shieldmaidens; it was likely that she had never seen a woman use weapons. Rúna laid a hand on her sword, where it was sheathed at her hip. Shaking her head, she said, "You will not have to do this, Tanaruz."

The girl's shoulders sagged somewhat at that, relief inkling into her expression. Only about a week had passed, but she seemed to be understanding more and more each day.

"No, of course not," Helga enthused, immediately turning to Tanaruz and taking the girl by the shoulders. All the lost stiffness flooded back into her, spine going rigid and face blank. "You will stay close with me while we are in England. I will keep you safe."

Rúna turned her back on them to retrieve her axe, her chest tightening. Tanaruz, for whatever reason, was terrified of Helga… and Helga was the only one who did not see it. Many looks had been exchanged between Rúna and Floki throughout the last week. With Rúna, the girl was fine. She was adjusting to life in Kattegat. Tanaruz didn't seem to mind Floki, either—allowing him to fit her feet for boots a few days ago was proof enough. It was only Helga Tanaruz held adverse feelings for.

Yanking the axe from the tree trunk, Rúna tucked the handle back into her belt. Floki appeared from the forest just then, excitement on his face. "It is finished!" He announced to her. "I will be back shortly. Ivar needs to practice commanding a horse before we take the chariot to England."

When he looked past Rúna, his excitement faltered. An odd mix of sadness and anger flashed in his eyes. Rúna laid a hand on his arm. "It is not that I dislike Tanaruz," she whispered to her father, "but why did Helga insist on bringing her here?"

"She is the age Angrboda should have been," Floki explained softly. "Helga saw Tanaruz's parents killed and her heart went out to the girl. She has done it out of kindness… but I am not so sure that makes it right."

They watched Tanaruz and Helga together for a moment. The girl hesitantly followed Helga's lead to the shore, so that Helga could teach her how to set the fish traps the family used in the shallows. Fish was one of the only meats Tanaruz would consistently eat.

"I'm going to go peek at the chariot," Rúna told her father. "I think I should get to see it completed first, since I helped build it."

"I think you are right," Floki teased with the approximation of a smile. He sent Rúna on her way with a gentle push toward the forest. Not far into the trees, hidden from sight in a clearing made by felling the very trees used to build it, sat Ivar's chariot. She had helped with the wooden framing, but Floki had covered the entire frame in embroidered red leather. The embroidery showed dragons twisting around themselves. Rúna ran her fingers over the dragons, an excited smile breaking out on her face.

Rounding to the back, Rúna stepped up inside to inspect the hollow space where Ivar would ride. Floki had crafted a seat, yes, but there was enough room for Ivar to stand if he wished. In front of the seat was an upright, padded contraption for leaning on.

The days had been overcast since Ragnar's death. As she inspected the chariot, a thick fog began to roll through the forest, consuming her. But she hardly noticed the fog, instead honing on the approaching footsteps of Floki and the scuffling-sliding sound that was unique to Ivar's crawling.

"Ivar," Floki said once they were in sight of the chariot, "I have built you not only your legs, but your wings. With this, you will fly."

From the chariot, Rúna beamed brightly. Ivar crawled forward, circling to the back. Reaching down, Rúna helped haul him up inside. Stepping out of his way, he pulled himself up onto the seat and took hold of the empty reins. Floki giggled, watching the wonder and awe fill Ivar's face as he gave the reins an experimental flap.

"Floki…" Ivar smiled despite the thickness in his throat. Before him, the boatbuilder could hardly contain his glee.

"Let me fetch your horse, so you can see the full effect." The fog swallowed Floki's lithe frame, leaving Ivar and Rúna alone in the chariot.

"Do you love it?" She asked, giggling herself when Ivar caught her by the waist to pull her in and kiss her. Rúna helped him stand and find his balance leaning against the padding. When Floki returned with a horse in tow, he made quick work of harnessing the animal. Still giggling, overjoyed with his own genius, Floki gave the horse a smack on the rump to send it running through the trees.

Luckily, the forest was thin enough that the horse had no issue maneuvering the chariot it dragged through the trunks. Ivar gave a hard pull of the reins to the right, setting the horse on a path away away town. As the two barreled away from the seaside cabin, there was a surprised shout of "Floki!" from Helga. Laughing, Rúna held herself steady with one hand on the side of the chariot and the other on Ivar's shoulder.

Floki was right. It did feel like flying, with the horse light on its feet and the chariot streaming behind. Ivar took them on a curving path that cut around the forest; the road to Hedeby, if they had followed it. Instead, another tug of the reins set them back on the path to Kattegat. "You're gloating."

"Why should I not?" Ivar asked, turning to her with a smirk. "Let them see what the cripple can do."

Lagertha would be there, at the front of Kattegat, Rúna knew. She worked right alongside her shieldmaidens and all the people of Kattegat creating the fortifications and defenses. Lagertha would see, Rúna was certain. And, naturally, that was Ivar's goal. Rúna had to push her hair back, loose and whipped all around as it was, to see if the goal was achieved.

She found the new queen and her lover atop the wall. Meeting Lagertha and Astrid's eyes in the lightning-quick moment before the chariot sped past, Rúna gave them a bright smile. From the town, Ivar steered them in a wide arc that should have taken them back to Floki's in a roundabout way.

"Ivar!" Came a surprised shout in Hvitserk's voice. "What in Odin's name is that?"

Pulling hard on the reins, Ivar brought the horse to a stuttering stop that sent Rúna nearly colliding into him. Both of them laughing, Ivar caught her before she could fall over. They helped each other out of the chariot, Rúna's hand at his elbow while Ivar held onto the side and shuffled his feet until he reached the end. Hvitserk had caught up to them by then, reaching up to help Ivar down, while Sigurd and Ubbe came tumbling from the forest.

"It's his chariot," Rúna said, taking Ubbe's proffered hand and hopping down daintily. "Floki and I made it."

"I did not think Ubbe wanted to carry me onto the battlefield once we land in England."

"You thought right." Sigurd and Ubbe took to circling the chariot, inspecting it. Hvitserk, apparently tired of helping Ivar support his weight, let himself fall backward with his brother so that they sat heavily in the grass. Disgruntled, Ivar knocked Hvitserk upside the head before laughing.

"Are you ever going to stop spoiling him, Rúna?" She sat in the grass on Ivar's other side, watching Ubbe free the horse of its bridle and setting it to wander and graze the grass. Considering the journey Ivar had taken the beast on, Rúna figured it had earned a rest.

"This was Floki's doing, not my own." Afternoon was fading to evening, the sun sinking to the horizon and setting the sky ablaze. Ubbe and Sigurd came to lounge in the grass with the others, all of them sprawling out. Laying flat on her back, Rúna felt the weight of Ivar's head come to rest on her thigh.

Hvitserk lifted his legs, sliding beneath them so that they rested across his own, so that he could lay close to them and continue his line of questioning. "And you took Sigurd to Tamdrup, no? He's been bragging, you know."

"What do you want, Hvitserk?" She asked, smiling at him and ruining the annoyance she had tried to put in her voice. One of her hands drifted to Ivar's head, toying with strands of his now-shaggy hair. "Bread? Sweet cakes?"

"Wait," Hvitserk said, head lolling to the other side to look at Ubbe, "has she done anything special for you?"

"She's made me dinner a night or two," Ubbe mused. He laid on the other side of Hvitserk, so that Rúna could not see his face. "But I think you took most of your meals at Rúna's table while the raiding party was away, yes, Sigurd?"

"And he repaid me only in songs, while he watched me do all the work," Rúna added.

"Not true," Sigurd argued. "I butchered that chicken one night." He laughed, and though Rúna could not see his face, she knew from the sound of his mirth that he must have a mischievous look. "She has been the sweetest to Ivar, though. Especially the night before he left for England with Father."

Immediately, heat flooded Rúna's cheeks. Hvitserk's head lolled to the side, hazel eyes wide and amused. A wide smile spread across his lips. Rúna very much wished the ground would swallow her. "So," Hvitserk 'whispered' to her, "what I am hearing is that my baby brother is not entirely boneless?"

Mortification filled her from her head to her toes. Rúna covered her burning face with her hands. "I'm not here," she said, much to the boys' amusement. "I do not exist." Amidst the laughter, Ivar reached up to touch her elbow. There was some jostling; she was sure Hvitserk was hitting Ivar in that good-natured way that brothers do.

"Good on you, Little Ivar!" The laughter all around continued. Rúna wondered at her chances of Thor answering a prayer to strike her down where she lay. A hand on her shoulder shook her. Hands still covering her face, Rúna peeked through her fingers to take in Hvitserk's smirk.

This time, he did drop his voice to a true whisper. "I am deathly curious, Rúna, how—oof!" His question was cut short by a blow to the ribs from Ivar. Still laughing, Hvitserk shook his head. "Well, I suppose I am not meant to know. But, you still owe me something, unless you want me to think I am your very least favorite."

"I will bring you food for the morning," she promised. Hvitserk, effectively pleased, smiled and nodded. He patted Ivar's leg where it rested across his stomach. They fell into companionable silence, the five of them. Rúna's hand drifted back to Ivar's hair to play with the strands. Above them, the cloudy sky was stained with fiery reds and oranges as the sun set.

"We leave for England in the morning, brothers… and Rúna." Ubbe tacked her name on to the end, voice rueful. "Are we ready?"

"I am always ready to kill Christians, Ubbe." That came from Ivar, his voice soft but strong and serious.

"We will have our revenge," Sigurd continued. "King Ecbert and King Aelle will suffer."

Ivar's legs rose and fell with Hvitserk's sigh. "We will make Odin proud, no? So that his coming from Asgard to tell us of Father's death will not be wasted, either."

"Yes," Ubbe confirmed. "Father and Odin will watch us from the hall, surrounded by warriors and gods alike as we show England just how powerful we heathens are." He pushed himself up from the ground, stepping over Sigurd and Hvitserk before reaching down for Ivar. "But tonight, we will feast. You had better be getting Rúna home so she can dress."

Ubbe lifted Ivar and helped him back into the chariot before hitching the horse once more. This time, Ivar did not press the horse so hard, and their journey home was much calmer. Ivar continued on the path he meant to cut before becoming waylaid by his brothers.

Rúna watched the gathering dark and lengthening shadows as they meandered home. With one hand holding the reins, Ivar slid his free arm around her waist. "In the morning, we set sail, my Rúna."

She leaned into him, stretching up to plant a kiss on his temple. "To England."

"To revenge," he countered. Then he pulled her closer, close enough to kiss on the mouth. "And to our fate."

His smile flashed white in the dark, excitement brightening his face. A cold thrill ran through her chest at the thought of it.

"King Ivar the Boneless," she mused, fitting herself against his side. "It does sound nice, no?"

As Ubbe said, there was to be a feast and sacrifice the night before the voyage. But first, before dressing for the festivities, Rúna helped Floki load Ivar's chariot onto its own boat. It took up nearly half the length, so that only one person would have space left to voyage with it once the horse was boarded in the morning. Rúna did not envy whoever drew that lot.

"Rúna," Floki took her hand to help her down from the boat but kept hold of it as they walked down the dock, "tell me of this plot to kill Lagertha I have heard talk of."

With Tanaruz demanding so much of the family's attention, Rúna had thought she might escape this line of questioning. Fate had other thoughts. Chewing on her lip, she kept her eyes focused on the ground as they walked. "Ubbe and Ivar wanted revenge for Lagertha's killing Queen Aslaug."

"Not Sigurd?" Floki asked, to which she shrugged.

"He is… conflicted."

Rúna looked up in time to see her father nod. It was coming on full dark, with residents of Kattegat and guests beginning to stream from lodgings toward the great hall. "And why was my daughter involved?"

He had dropped his voice to a quiet murmur, dipping his head low over hers. Rúna felt her cheeks heat and tears sting at the back of her eyes. "Because," she started, finding her voice failing her. Rúna coughed to clear her throat and began again. "Because I was there, Floki. The day Lagertha took Kattegat. I watched her kill Queen Aslaug and… it was not a siege. Aslaug surrendered and relinquished her claim to the throne, but Lagertha killed her anyway. Shot in the back with an arrow. It was a coldblooded murder."

Floki was quiet beside her for a few steps. "And the slave girl that turned up dead in the river a day ago?"

Shaking her head, Rúna felt her stomach twist as she remembered Margrethe in the water. "That was Sigurd. Margrethe helped Lagertha. She lured Ubbe and Sigurd away to Hedeby, so that none of Aslaug's sons remained in Kattegat when she usurped the kingdom."

"I see." Did he? Rúna was not sure. Her father's face had settled into a hard, closed mask that she could not read. "It is a dangerous game to play, my Rúna. You are coming up on your sixteenth summer and joining a raiding party come the morning—no longer the little girl I carried on my shoulders, are you?"

He chucked her under the chin, making her smile despite herself. "If you must play this game, I am thankful to the gods that they have given you the most brilliant mind as your partner. I have no doubts Ivar will protect you at all costs, Rúna, but you must understand this: I have known Lagertha my whole life. She is not one to be taken lightly, and neither is Björn. But then, neither is Ivar." Here, Floki shrugged. "The gods are stingy with their thoughts, and I am not the Seer, so it is not for me to say how fate will show itself. Just be careful, my Rúna."

"I will," she promised, squeezing his hand to punctuate her words. A surge of excitement ran through her, thinking of the fate only she and Ivar knew. Smiling, she bounced on her tiptoes to kiss Floki on the cheek before they went through the door of their cabin together.

Rúna made quick work of readying both herself and Tanaruz. The girl refused to go without her veil even now; Rúna secured it in place using a string of blue beads Aslaug had once given her. She dressed Tanaruz in her old blue silk dress before slipping on her newer, green dress. Though Tanaruz was younger than her, they were similar in size, so the blue dress fit her well enough to serve for a feast.

"My pretty girls," Helga praised them. Her smile was watery when she directed it at Tanaruz, who shrunk back a little as Helga stepped into Rúna's bedroom. Still, her mother came forward and stood behind Rúna to weave fresh, white spring flowers into her hair. "This will be the biggest feast Kattegat has seen. Be mindful to keep an eye on your sister, Rúna."

"I will keep her with me," she reassured Helga. "Between me and the boys, no one will bother her."

"That's my sweet girl." The smile was clear in Helga's voice. With her flowered hair finished, Helga took them each by the hand to follow Floki back into the bustling town. Celebration spilled out of the great hall, so that singing and conversation and laughing filled the streets. Tanaruz clung tightly to Rúna's hand, pulling away from Helga to huddle against her. The hurt was clear on Helga's face, not to mention the way her hand trailed over Tanaruz's veil as she pulls away.

Inside, the hall was muggy warm and crowded with bodies. Tanaruz dipped her head low, so that her veil shielded her face. Rúna thought her fingers might break in her grasp. Though frightened, Tanaruz let herself be led through the hall. Sigurd was always easy to find at feasts, usually occupying a calmer, quieter spot while he played his oud. Following the sound of his strumming, Rúna took Tanaruz to a back corner.

"She does not look alright," Sigurd commented, not faltering at all in his playing as he turned his head to look at the pair of mismatched sisters.

"She will be fine," Rúna insisted. Here, away from the press of strangers, Tanaruz lifted her head. She looked around with wide, frightened dark eyes. Her gaze eventually settled on Sigurd's back just before them, and Tanaruz gave a sigh of relief. Rúna could tell Tanaruz trusted whoever Rúna trusted—save, of course, for Helga. "She just needs to calm down. This takes a toll on her."

Moving forward, she placed a hand on Sigurd's shoulder and dipped her head close to his to whisper, "How are Ubbe and Hvitserk? They are not mad at you for killing Margrethe?"

She watched the scowl that overtook his profile. Sigurd took a deep breath, releasing it all in a rush. "If they are, they have not told me they feel so. And if they are heartbroken, well," Sigurd stood, drawing her up with him so he could point across the town, "I think your friends are well on the way to mending that."

Across the hall, Bodil and Gisli sat on the arms of Ubbe and Hvitserk's chairs, respectively, as the brothers played a rowdy game of dice between them. "I see… and Gisli? That does not bother you, either?"

At that, Sigurd shrugged. "Why should it?"

Rúna couldn't help the twist of her mouth at that. The snake in the older boy's eye was calm, giving her no indication what his true feelings under his cavalier attitude might be. "I am surprised they have so much time for your brothers, considering King Harald and many others are here."

Laughing, Sigurd took her by the shoulders and turned her again. On the clear opposite side of the hall, King Harald was standing close beside Halfdan, watching a blonde woman converse with some men a few feet away. "Princess Ellisif, of Denmark," he told her. "King Harald's mysterious and elusive inspiration for his dream to become King of all Norway."

"Oh!" Cocking her head to the side, Rúna took in the woman's soft blonde shade of hair and the shape of her face. Not to mention her height, so similar to the twins. No wonder King Harald had chosen Bodil and Gisli as lovers. "That's… an interesting turn of events. Um, have you seen Ivar?"

Sigurd turned her once more, directing her toward the hearth, where Ivar sat drinking mead and watching the crowd around him. He had that brooding look in his eye, the one that foretold his mind racing as he thought. Floki appeared from the crowd, clapping Ivar on the shoulder, and the change was instantaneous. He was now smiling, reaching for Floki to hug him. They were discussing the chariot and tomorrow's journey, she had no doubt. Heart warming at the sight of them, Rúna reached behind her for Tanaruz's hand.

"Come with us?" She asked, inclining her head toward Sigurd's brothers and her friends. But Sigurd shook his head, sending his braids swishing around his face. "Suit yourself. Don't spend the whole night moping when we should be celebrating, Sigurd-Snake-in-the-Eye."

Pulling Tanaruz along beside her, Rúna pushed her way through the crowd until she reached Ubbe and Hvitserk's table. "Frændi," she told Tanaruz, gesturing to each twin in turn. "Bodil and Gisli."

"Bo-dil," Tanaruz repeated slowly, testing the name on her tongue. "Gi-sli,"

"Who is your friend, Rúna?" Gisli asked, head canting to the side in curiosity. "She is not from Norway, Denmark, or Sweden, like the people gathered here. Nor does she look like one of the Sami."

"Not friend," Ubbe corrected before Rúna could speak. "Sister. Her name is Tanaruz, and she comes from Iberia. It is a land our brother Björn found on his last raid."

"Ah, the famous journey to the Mediterranean." Bodil used Ubbe's shoulder to push off from the chair, so that she came to stand before Tanaruz. The younger girl tipped her head back to take in the tall blonde. "She is a pretty girl. Does she have much of our language?"

"Not yet, but she is learning." Reaching behind her, Bodil plucked her wine cup from the table and offered it to Tanaruz, who took a considerable step back as if she had been given poison.

"She does not drink wine. Or ale or mead. It is… haram?" Rúna gestured to the proffered cup and turned to Tanaruz, brow wrinkling. The younger girl nodded her confirmation. "Haram is bad. It displeases her god."

"What a boring god," Hvitserk grumbled. He wrapped an arm around Gisli's waist, making her giggle, as he leaned forward to hand Rúna her own cup of wine. "Drink to ours and be thankful we do not settle for dull."

It was sweet on her tongue, rich and honeyed. "How curious," Bodil mused. She raised a hand slowly, watching for Tanaruz's reaction, before reaching out to place the hand gently on the girl's shoulder. To Rúna's surprise, she didn't shy away. When Bodil smiled at her, Tanaruz gave her a soft, almost-smile in return. "Come sit with us, Tanaruz."

There had always been something charming about Bodil, something that made others do as she asked. With easy acquiescence, Tanaruz took the empty seat Bodil led her to. She seemed happy enough to watch the card game pick back up between Ubbe and Hvitserk. Clearly pleased with herself, Bodil pulled Rúna close. "Go find Ivar. I will watch over her."

Smiling her thanks, Rúna turned to cut her way back through the crowd. Ivar, at least, was always easy to find. She was nearly there when a hand catching her arm stilled her. Turning, she found herself brought face to face with Astrid. "You tricked me."

The accusation rolled off her, falling away with Rúna's shrug. "And you fell for the trick. That is a detriment to your character more so than mine, no?"

Astrid's blue eyes bored into her but Rúna made herself stand tall and still. "It was stupid of the lot of you to think you could kill Lagertha."

"It is stupid of you to think you are happy here, with Lagertha." Rúna shot back. They stared at each other for another beat before, to her surprise, each of them smiled at one another.

"I like that we do not lie to one another, Rúna. You are sailing with the army, yes? I pray the gods keep you safe. You are a good fighter, and strong despite your size. Better than a great many of our shieldmaidens, even with Lagertha's training."

Rúna sighed, dropping her eyes to the dark wine in her cup for a moment. Before she could think better of it, she said, "I like that we do not lie as well, so I must ask you, Astrid—you do know it is not finished, yet? Ivar still wants revenge on Lagertha."

"I know." Astrid ran her finger around the edge of her cup. "It is plain as day in his face every time he looks at her. I cannot fault him for it, either. If, Rúna, fate sees us on opposite sides of the battlefield…"

She left the rest of her thought hanging in the air, but Rúna understood. Rúna raised her cup, waiting for Astrid to lift hers in toast. "Skol," they said in unison, tapping their cups together. A drink sealed their unspoken agreement before the two parted ways, each being swallowed by the crowd and Rúna sought out Ivar and Astrid returned to Lagertha.

"What was that about?" Ivar asked when she drew close to kiss him on the cheek in greeting. "With Astrid?"

"I… think we are something like friends." Rúna admitted, taking the empty seat beside him. It was still warm from Floki's occupying it. "Where did my father go?"

Ivar gestured vaguely with his hand. "He is somewhere. Talking with Björn, I think. Where did you leave Tanaruz?"

"With Bodil and Gisli." Smirking, Ivar took a pull of his mead.

"She will learn every foul word of our language with those two." He took her hand, raising it so that he could nuzzle it to his cheek. "Lagertha has a sacrificed planned tonight. A human sacrifice." Turning his head, he trailed his lips across her knuckles. "It will not be enough to protect her after we avenge Father."

"Of course not," Rúna agreed. "But we already knew that. "Who shall die?"

"Tonight? Sadly, only Earl Jorgensen. A pity, that."

Rúna laughed at his pouting, leaning out of her chair to quickly kiss him full on the mouth. "I know it pains you, Budlungr, but have patience."

When he sighed, his warm breath washed over her face. Ivar cut his gaze away from her, to wear Lagertha had appeared dressed in white, her pet owl perched on her shoulder and a crown of twigs adorning her hair. "If you would all join me outside, we will honor the gods beneath the stars."

"Find Tanaruz," Ivar told her. "And send Ubbe to me if you see him, would you?"

"I suppose it will not serve to have you trampled in the crowd," she teased, kissing him again before standing. The crowd was buzzing with the excitement of the sacrifice and it was contagious. Rúna collected Tanaruz from Bodil and tried to explain what was about to happen.

"Mayt," she used Tanaruz's own word, but it was a misstep. The girl's eyes grew wide with fear and Rúna quickly shook her head. "Not you. Not me. Earl Jorgensen mayt."

The man was nowhere in the crowd for her to point out, but Tanaruz seemed to understand well enough. She calmed, anyway, hand relaxing its death grip on Rúna's. They met with Floki and Helga waiting for them at the door, each smiling. But Floki's smile was for Rúna; Helga's for Tanaruz.

"Her first sacrifice!" Helga gushed, collecting the girl from Rúna. "Isn't this exciting?"

Rúna fell in line alongside her father. They took a place in the crowd close to the sons of Ragnar. Ivar, as always, sat in a chair someone had brought out for him. Rúna positioned herself behind it, reaching over the back to lay her hand on Ivar's shoulder. He twined his fingers through hers as the beating drums began to fill the air, their tempo echoing through her chest. Looking through the crow, Rúna caught sight of the Seer on the other side of the dais where Earl Jorgensen would die.

The Seer turned his head, fixing her with one of his eyeless gazes. Rúna nodded a greeting at him, one that was returned with an almost-smile on his blackened lips before he turned his attention to the approaching earl turned sacrifice.

"Can you feel the gods?" Floki asked, voice a reverent whisper. Turning to her father, was that relief she saw in his eyes?

"Yes," she told him. Of course she did. They were there, in the way her skin pricked in the electric air. "Look to the sky, Floki." A streak of light blazed above them. If anyone doubted the presence of the gods before, they had no cause to now. When Lagertha called out praise for Odin and Thor, Rúna responded in kind. Helga shielded Tanaruz's eyes as Lagertha's blade sunk into Earl Jorgensen's chest, but Rúna didn't take her eyes off the death before her.

Ivar squeezed her hand as Jorgensen fell and Lagertha caught his weight, carefully guiding the dying man to the dais. Her own breath left her in a sigh; she hadn't realized she had been holding it in anticipation. A shudder ran down her back—fear and awe and excitement filling her.

Closing her eyes, Rúna focused on that feeling. She dipped her head low over Ivar's, inhaling the scent of him—soap undercut by an ever-present earthiness, celebration mead and hair grease. She thought of Ivar, his brothers, her parents, her friends, her new sister. All the people she loved. And she thought of the Seer's words for her. Cling to the gods and they will cling to you.

"Thank you, Allfather," she mouthed to herself. "And all those who serve you in the Aesir. Each of you. Thank you."

Helga pulled Rúna and Tanaruz from their shared bed before the dawn, leaving them to ready themselves while she cooked breakfast. The younger girl dressed in the tunic and pants she had worn to Kattegat. Rúna tamed her sister's thick curls into a heavy braid down her back before helping Tanaruz secure her veil in place. Once Rúna was dressed in her armor, Tanaruz helped her thread the deer bone hair beads Ivar had made her onto her braids.

"Hurry, girls," Helga prompted them, sticking her head around the curtain and smiling softly when she saw Tanaruz threading a strand of Rúna's hair into a bead. "Or you will miss your chance to eat."

Breakfast was quick, in the relative dark, for Helga had already smothered the hearth fire. "Where is Floki?" Rúna asked, to which her mother inclined her head toward the window. In the thick morning fog stood her father, head tipped skyward. From his profile, Rúna could see his lips moving. Speaking with the gods.

Apparently, Lagertha's sacrifice of Earl Jorgensen was not enough in Floki's opinion. Their largest goat, start and healthy and strong, stood obediently before Floki. As if the beast knew its life was going to end with a higher purpose. Eating her warm bread and cheese, Rúna watched from the window as Floki sacrificed the goat and collected its blood in a basin. Floki raised the basin above his head, snippets of his prayer streaming to her on the breeze off the sea.

"…and protect Rúna, Allfather, on her first raid and this the most important of our people…"

She smiled, watching Floki lower the basin to his mouth and drink. He turned on his heel, coming back to the cabin. Helga got the second drink of sacrificial blood before Floki held the basin to Rúna's lips. It was salty and hot on her tongue. Then he held the basin proffered to Tanaruz, eyebrows raising in question. He would not force the girl.

Dark eyes sought Rúna's counsel. She raised her hand upward, motioning to the sky. "Gods. Odin, Thor, Freyr and Freya." Rúna named the few she had talked of to Tanaruz when they lay in bed at night, telling her the stories of her own childhood though she knew the girl understood little.

"Not Allah," Floki clarified, shaking his head. Tanaruz flicked her gaze between Rúna and Floki before stepping forward, allowing him to bring the edge of the basin to her mouth. She took one quick gulp, much to Helga's joy. The rest of the blood was left just outside the door. The gods' portion.

Rúna knew Floki did not think it wise for Helga and Tanaruz to join them. She had heard them arguing over it. All traces of that dispute were gone now as Floki took Helga's hand in his and led his wife and daughters to Kattegat's ports. Helga had insisted they would go together, united as a family, and so they were.

At port, Guthrum hovered around the ship that would carry Ragnar's sons. He handed supplies off to Björn, listening all the while to the instructions his father was leaving for him.

"…do not argue with your mother, Guthrum, she will need your help. I know you are upset not to be joining us, but there is much for you to do here. Lagertha has plenty of work for you to keep your hands busy." The boy looked sour, though, his dark features brooding. Rúna knew it was because he had been deemed too young for raiding—never mind that Ubbe and Hvitserk had gone to England with Ragnar years ago when they were just ten and nine.

She touched his arm as they went past, giving the boy a soft smile. "There will be other raids, I am sure." Guthrum's face reddened, though she could not say if it were from her calling him out or not.

"Be careful, Rúna," he managed to mumble. She smiled at him again, this time in confidence.

"You don't need to worry about me, Guthrum." The Seer's prophecy had taken any fear she might have felt at the prospect of sailing that morning. She knew she would return to Kattegat, with Ivar at her side.

Floki boarded first, reaching a hand out to help Helga over the lip of the boat. He reached over the dock and lifted Tanaruz by her waist, swinging her down beside him. But it was Ivar's hand that Rúna took to help her aboard, his skin warm beneath his braces. She hopped over the edge, feet landing lightly on the wooden ship. He and his brothers were already settled toward the front, where they would have first sight of England once it appeared on the horizon.

"Good morning," she told each of them, reaching for her belt and tossing Hvitserk his promised food. He smiled his thanks to her, tearing into the pouch immediately.

"It would be better were we already in England, feeding the earth with Christian blood." Ubbe clapped Ivar's shoulder in agreement just as Björn cut the mooring line. Rúna's heart gave a pull in her chest, watching the line snap and feeling the ship come alive in the water beneath her feet. From beneath the bench he perched on, Hvitserk withdrew a jug of mead.

"To Ragnar!" He shouted, a mighty chorus of voices taking up his toast in echo. Hvitserk took a hearty drink before passing the jug to Sigurd. It made its way from there, the entire ship drinking to the now-dead king.

Rúna took her drink before Ivar had his. It was strong mead, the way Ragnar had liked it, thick enough to make her head buzz just from that one drink. Yet she smiled as she passed the jug on to him, that smile widening when he took her hand and pulled her to sit beside him.

Above them came the caw of a bird. Collective eyes turned upward to see a massive raven, black wings slicing through the fog. It came to perch on the dragon's head at the forefront of the ship carrying the sons of Ragnar.

Perhaps it was Ragnar himself, Rúna mused, come in the form of Odin's raven to see his sons to his revenge. Either way, the bird's appearance elicited another raucous cheer from the sprawling fleet of ships sluicing through the ocean as if they were all moving parts of one being.

After weeks of collecting members at the gates of Kattegat, the Great Heathen Army assembled by the Ragnarssons was on the move.

The fog had cleared by midmorning. A clear sky and strong breeze made Floki confident that, with turns taken at the oars so that no one would tire and lag, they would make the voyage in half the time it typically took. Darkness had fallen, though, and at Björn's order the sails were left open to catch the night wind while everyone rested.

Rúna was not resting, though. She was nimbly picking her way around the sleeping forms littering the boat. Ivar watched her hop and skip over the bodies until she reached him, at which point she crouched down before him. "Share your blanket with me? I gave mine to Tanaruz."

Smirking, he opened the fold so she could fit herself against his side, beneath his arm. She was warm. He could feel it even though her layers of clothing when his hand came to rest on her hip. Rúna laid her head on his shoulder, her fingers playing idly with the pattern of his studded armor over his chest.

"Are you ready?"

"Of course I am," he whispered into her hair. "But… I would be more confident if Björn had yielded leadership of the army to me."

She laughed, her breath washing over his neck and making the hair stand on end. "It is his right by birth, Budlungr."

"I am smarter than Björn."

"I do not disagree."

"But?" She peeked up at him, eyes silvery in the moonlight.

"But," Rúna softened the blow of her next words with a kiss to the jaw, "he has more raiding experience, as well."

Ivar pouted, lifting his head to glare over the top of her head. Laughing again, Rúna slid a hand from the blanket, fingers pressing into his cheek and guiding his face back to her. "Have patience," she told him, trailing her fingers over his cheekbone. "This will be the first of many battles together, no? Do not let it sour."

He smiled despite himself, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. They fell asleep in this way, huddled beneath their shared blanket and exchanging whispers and kisses. Hvitserk was the one to wake them in the morning, after having a good chuckle. He kicked Ivar's leg—gently, of course—jarring him awake.

"Now, Little Ivar, you may ignore me and argue as you do with Björn, but I think it may be wise to untangle yourself from Rúna before Floki wakes, throws you overboard, and leaves you to the whims of Njord."

Grumbling incoherently, Ivar shook Rúna awake while Hvitserk smothered further laughter with his hand. She was still bleary when Hvitserk took her by the arms and hauled her onto a bench. "I think you both owe me for saving the life of your little romance."

"What is your brother talking about?" Rúna mumbled, rubbing at her face to wake herself. Ivar reached up to rub her thigh, trying to help her.

"Hvitserk here thinks Floki would have thrown me from the ship to drown if he had seen us sleeping together."

"Oh." Rúna's eyes were hazy, shoulders lifting and dropping in a shrug. Hvitserk had woken them from a dead sleep. "He might have."

Hvitserk laughed again, clapping them both on the shoulders. "I'll be waiting for my thanks. The two of you wouldn't be able to get along without me, really."

"Keep telling yourself that, brother, and it just might come true."

A/N: Hey, friends! I took a little spontaneous road trip with friends, which is the cause of the big gap in updates. This chapter is a little longer and full of fluffy moments to make up for that. We'll be getting into action next chapter!

Thank you to Nightwingstress and Puffgirl1952 the 2nd for the Chapter 27 reviews!