Chapter Twenty-Nine: Revenge of a King

Her arms ached from wielding both sword and shield and there was a deep, throbbing pain in her left leg where she had caught the flat side of the blade. No doubt her leg was badly bruised under her leather pants, but at least it was not broken. Rúna repeated that to herself like a mantra as she walked beside Floki through an old forest in Northumbria.

Gods, I want to be carried. She was weary down to her very bones. Nothing could have prepared her for true combat. Not the numerous hours she had spent training with Ivar and his brothers. Not the night she had aided Torvi and Lagertha in defending Kattegat. Nothing. The stink of gore and dying men still clung to her nose. She was covered in blood that—blessedly—was not hers. Through the afternoon, Rúna had fought against Christian foe after foe, felling one after another in the chaos of battle as The Great Heathen Army destroyed King Aelle's forces.

But nothing could have prepared her for the unabashed pride in Floki's face when he found her once the fighting petered out. Her father had gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her temple and holding her tight. Now Floki held her hand as they followed Ivar's chariot, dragging the fallen king, to the place where Ragnar met his death.

"Filthy Christian," Floki mumbled beside her, spitting. His dark eyes were trained on Aelle where he bounced over rocks and branches, limp and resigned as his body trailed behind Ivar's chariot. The look on her father's face was murderous. "He deserves worse than the blood eagle Björn has planned for him."

Rúna gave a start at that, but there was no time to contemplate. Ivar had brought his chariot to a sudden stop and Björn himself had cut Aelle free or the tether keeping him attached. Björn lifted the man by his shirt, bringing them nose to nose as he yelled, "Where?! Where did you kill our father?!"

When the flustered, terrified Christian king gave his answer, a pit was revealed to have been carved into the ground. Dark curiosity drew Rúna forward, following Ivar as he crawled to the edge. Ivar looked up at her as they loomed over that treacherous ledge, the disgust and hate shining clearly in his eyes. Stories had come to Kattegat with the Christian traders, tales of Ragnar's death in this very pit, surrounded by snakes. Rúna touched his head, her own stomach roiling and acid rising in her throat.

Filthy Christians indeed, Floki. The one and only grace she had been able to conjure for Lagertha was that Queen Aslaug had not suffered. Aelle had gone to great length to ensure that King Ragnar was in great pain until the Valkyries collected him for Valhalla. Peering into that dark maw of earth, Rúna knew. If ever there was a man who deserved the terrible death of a blood eagle, it was Aelle.

Rúna touched the top of Ivar's head lightly, hoping he understood.

There was some shouting as the scene was set. A perimeter of warriors was made, should any of the Christians in this land feel compelled to try to save their king. Floki quickly constructed a wooden fixture, though Rúna missed its purpose while she and Ivar took in the site of Ragnar's death. A huge fire was built as well, as full dark was coming on, and Björn would need light to work by.

Standing close to her father, Rúna watched Björn sink his blade into Aelle's back, slicing downward with a clean, sure motion as if he were carving meat. That heaviness to the air, the pressure that foretold the gods were in attendance, could be felt all around. As a child, Floki's stories of blood eagle rituals he had witnessed had terrified Rúna. She felt no fear now, not even at the gory glimpses of muscle and spine she caught here and there through the cluster of Ragnar's sons.

When the Christian king was dead and flayed, he was raised on Floki's wooden structure, so that Aelle hovered in the air with his 'wings' spread on display. By that point, death and blood loss had left the king ghostly pale. His figure cut a ghastly warning for the Christian people against the sky. Rúna stared up at that figure, a shiver running down her spine.

Did the others feel it? Floki surely did, head bowed reverently and hand gesturing his gratitude and honor to the gods. Despite this massive victory, the band of Vikings was silent as they made to take their leave of the forest, on to Aelle's castle to complete their raiding of Northumbria.

Ivar drew his chariot up beside Rúna and Floki, extending a hand to the former. Turning to her father, Rúna raised her brow in silent question. Floki nodded his permission and Rúna took Ivar's hand, letting him help her up into the chariot.

"Odin is pleased," she whispered, once she was settled beside him. Ivar turned to her with a victorious smile.

"As am I."

He stole a kiss on her bloodied cheek, making her blush and smile. There was little time for affection, though, as the forest was thinning and the band of warriors from The Great Heathen Army drew closer to the castle from which King Aelle used to rule.

They returned to a camp full of celebration and revelry. Helga greeted both Floki and Rúna by stroking their cheeks and kissing their foreheads. Tanaruz trailed close behind her for once, eager to wiggle her way to the older girl's side. "Oh, you are not hurt, Rúna, are you?"

"Just a few bruises," she reassured her mother, ignoring the throb in her leg. A bruise, alright, and a bloody painful one at that. "The fighting was soon over. We outnumbered them greatly."

"An easy—but well-won—victory, my Helga. She fought well but did not have to over-exert herself. A hot meal and a good sleep will right her again." Both of those things sounded wonderful to Rúna. After some more of Helga's tender fussing, Rúna gratefully sat down beside Floki's fire. She stretched her legs in front of her, biting her lip at the way the bruise throbbed at her actions. There were victorious shouts all around, mingling with music and laughter. Helga gave her wine and a bowl of roasted meats. Tanaruz sat down close beside her, staring into the fire. Across from them, Floki and Helga settled down together and the former began to recount the battle.

As far as Rúna was concerned, she was more than happy to sit beside Tanaruz and watch the flames as she ate. However, Bodil and Gisli—finally having gotten their way with King Harald about joining a raiding party—had other ideas. Confident as ever, Bodil drew up behind Rúna where she sat, placing her hands on her friend's shoulders and smiling over the top of her head at Floki and Helga. "May we steal her?"

Rúna was very much looking forward to her bed, but the jovial spirit of the camp was contagious. Floki and Helga waved her on her way, smiling all the while, and Rúna found herself being dragged behind Bodil. As the twins had spent the day in the camp, waiting for the army to return, they were clean and rested. Rúna could not say the same for herself. Helga had washed the worst of the blood off her face and hands, but she could still feel the stickiness of it in her hair.

She felt a little pang of guilt at leaving Tanaruz behind, but Floki was there. The girl was calm enough with him around.

"We should be celebrating," Gisli enthused. "Though, you hardly look dressed for a feast."

Helga had also helped her off with her armor, leaving her in her stained tunic and pants. She had seen no reason to change her clothing that night; there was another set for her to wear tomorrow, when they traveled away from Northumbria toward Wessex and King Ecbert. Gisli plucked at her sleeve, pulling a face over the ruddy stain she found there.

"She's dressed as a warrior!" Hvitserk was in good spirits, taking Rúna from Bodil and Gisli and wrapping his arm about her shoulders. "Somebody, who I presume is my brother, because I remember his being born, nearly let me lose my fucking head during that fighting, but do you know who cut that man down? Our Rúna here. If anyone had any doubts who I am talking about, this brother also has a snake in his eye, which apparently impedes his vision so greatly that he does not notice his brother nearly dying."

"You are very dramatic when you're drinking, Hvitserk," Rúna laughed, pushing away from him. "Though I will gladly remember you are now indebted to me. How much is your pretty head worth, hmm?"

The four younger brothers were circled around their own fire. Björn was notably absent from the celebrating, though that did not surprise Rúna. He had been rather dour since his return from the Mediterranean.

"Wait, I am not done with my list of complaints." Hvitserk came to stand behind Sigurd, tousling his hair. "Sigurd, I understand why you did it, but did you really have to kill Margrethe before our sailing here? Gods, imagine it. Not having to serve our own mead, a quite willing and pliable bedmate. You've wounded us all, Sigurd! Well, three of us."

He directed an eye roll at Rúna and Ivar, who, naturally, had drawn toward each other. She had taken a seat on the ground, folding her arms over Ivar's lap and resting her head there. "Could you take my hair beads out?" Rúna asked, relaxing into him as his hands began working through her braids.

"If you are that lonely for a bedmate, brother…" Sigurd swept a hand at the giggling Gisli, who was, as always, enthralled by Hvitserk. "King Harald has hardly seemed to miss them, no?"

"Only because his princess is here," Bodil groused, accepting a cup of mead from Ubbe. "She is married, however, so I suppose I should not pout so much."

"We have hardly been set aside," Gisli reminded her sister, letting Hvitserk draw her into his lap. "We are here, no? Not left behind in Tamdrup as we typically are."

"We have a princess of our own, now, held captive." Hvitserk began to brag. He was referring to Blaeja, daughter of Aelle. As the army had moved through her father's castle, the family was slaughtered—the queen, the prince, but not the princess, for she had thrown herself at Björn's feet and prayed emphatically to her god. Rúna had no doubt that Blaeja's beauty, with her raven's wing hair, snow-pale skin, and dark eyes, had more to do with Björn's mercy than her piety. "See that tent, guarded by the four men? That is where she is."

Ivar leaned forward, drawing Rúna's attention from the others as he whispered to her. "We sail again, in the morning. Down river to King Ecbert. His kingdom is much larger than Aelle's was."

"King of two lands, no?" She asked, trying to remember. The exhaustion from the day was catching up to her. "Wessex and…"

"Mercia," Ivar supplied for her. "Larger lands, larger army."

"Mmm." His hands working through her hair was not helping the waves of sleepiness crashing over her. "I am sure you have many thoughts about that, Budlungr?" Had she more energy, she would have asked him to expand. His ideas always piqued her interest, and this case was no different.

"Many," he agreed. "But will Björn listen? That is the issue."

"Ironside, iron head," she mumbled, making Ivar chuckle. "Good luck."

Rúna was not made for celebrating that night. Under the ministrations of Ivar's hands, she fell asleep where she sat. She woke under her furs, beside Tanaruz, however. The ground was hard below her, Tanaruz warm against her side. Pushing herself up, it took her a moment to remember she was still in England. Carefully, Rúna extricated herself from bed and tucked the furs around Tanaruz.

Outside the tent, pre-dawn dark—and Helga—greeted her. "I was hoping you would wake early," her mother told her softly, drawing her close to the low fire she was minding. "There is time to wash your hair before we sail for Wessex."

"Thank the gods." Her hair was stiff and tangled with dried blood. Rúna was thankful Ivar had removed the beads before she slept; she hated to think what state her hair would have been in, then. While breakfast cooked over the fire, Helga rinsed her hair. The breaking dawn revealed the water running first pink and eventually clear. The camp began to stir, people emerging from their tents here and there, as Helga began to comb the tangles. As the morning grew loud with voices and people breaking down their camps or preparing breakfast as Helga was, their tent flap was thrown back and Tanaruz emerged wide-eyed and pale.

"Tanaruz," Rúna called to her. At the sound of her voice, the girl calmed, an almost-smile tugging at her lips. She hurried to Rúna's side, plopping herself down beside her.

"She has unfailing faith in you," Helga said, sounding both please and morose at once. "I knew she would love you, when we rescued her from Iberia."

"I like her very much," Rúna answered mildly. "But, Helga… she has been so frightened here." It was neither a lie nor an exaggeration. When Rúna left with the raiding party the day before, she had had to peel Tanaruz off her arm and shush her.

"It is just new for her," Helga insisted brightly, practiced fingers flying as she braided Rúna's hair anew. "She will adjust."

Would she? Tanaruz's veil was shielding her face, making it impossible to read her expression. A heavy pit formed in Rúna's stomach. She felt leaden, weighed down, as she ate her breakfast and helped Helga break down their camp. Taking Tanaruz with her, Rúna helped to load the boats with the family's belongings before sailing downriver. Bodil interrupted their work, catching Rúna by the arm to tease her.

"Good morning, you lie-about. Think you can make it through the day without another nap?"

"Excuse you," Rúna retorted, laughing, "but I was raiding for an entire day. What were the lot of you doing at camp, hmm?"

"Gisli and I steeped some rose water for our hair," Bodil recounted. "Your new sister pouted quite a bit. Helga mended a shirt and helped cook for the return of you warriors."

"Arduous work." Handing the last of the cargo to Tanaruz, Rúna turned to help Bodil with King Harald and Halfdan's things. "Where is Gisli?"

"Wherever Hvitserk is, no doubt." This was punctuated by and emphatic eye roll. The girls bent down in tandem, each taking a handle on the chest of King Harald's things. With their heads brought close together, Bodil spoke again, in a rushed whisper. "Harald has confided that he and Halfdan have designs on Kattegat. There is likely attempts at overthrowing Lagertha being made as we speak."

The hushed information sent Rúna's heart to racing. It pounded beneath her ribs more furiously than it had the day prior when she was in the thick of fighting. "Bodil, why…?" She paused, taking in the victorious smile tugging at her friend's lips, not to mention the satisfaction shining from her dark blue eyes.

"His princess is dead. Halfdan killed her."

"Do you mean to be queen?" Rúna asked, fear and panic striking through her. To overthrow King Harald, should he succeed in seizing Kattegat, would be one thing. Overthrowing a life-long friend would be another. But to Rúna's immense relief, Bodil waved the thought away with a flick of her hand.

"Never. I have told you as much before, Rúna. I mean only to keep his ear and his attentions even should he marry. He has yet to ever deny me, and I doubt he will start anytime soon."

"Why tell me about his plotting?" Tanaruz was following the older girls' steps like a shadow. For once, Rúna was immensely thankful rather than frustrated that her sister did not understand the bulk of what was being said.

"I would rather not have you caught unawares. Ivar is committed in his ambition to depose Lagertha, is he not? I care not for all this squabbling, Rúna, but if you are determined to follow Ivar into it, I want you to know what could be awaiting you."

Once they were relieved of their burden, Rúna threw her arms around Bodil's neck. "You are a better friend than I deserve."

"May the gods watch over you, Rúna. I will never understand your desire to fight alongside the princes."

All the tents were taken down, belongings packed away, and cook fires extinguished before midday. Ecbert's kingdom was waiting for them, and the Viking force that comprised the Great Heathen Army would be seeing it before sundown. Rúna sat toward the back of one boat, leaning over the edge and letting her fingers trail through the water. It was a murky, sluggish river they sailed through. The rowers hadn't had one break from their oars, as it was too necessary to move along such a lazy river.

Already, she was so used to hearing the screams of fearful Christians that the villagers fleeing at the sight of the army didn't phase her whatsoever. What did draw her attention were the disgruntled noises Tanaruz was making as Helga attempted to coax the girl into letting her braid her hair. She is more blind than Höðr, Rúna thought to herself. Everyone but Helga can see how Tanaruz feels.

"Quf!" Tanaruz suddenly exploded. "Law samahta! Quf!"

"She is asking you to stop," Rúna translated, not taking her eyes from the muddy water. Pushing herself away from the ledge, Rúna stood. "I am going up front, with Ivar."

She did not wait for approval from either of her parents. Dodging oars and arms alike, Rúna made her way to the cluster of Ragnar's sons watching the frightened villagers with bemused smirks.

"See how they run, Rúna?" Ivar asked, pushing Sigurd aside to make room for her. Grumbling, Sigurd made room for her while sending a murderous look toward his brother.

"These are not fighters, Ivar," Björn cautioned. "These are villagers, powerless to defend themselves."

"That does not change the fear we are striking in the hearts of these Christians, brother." Rúna smirked herself, but at Ivar's cockiness, not the frightened villagers. His spirits were high, eyes shining. The excitement was lost on Björn, but not Hvitserk.

"This is but a taste of what is to come." He seemed entirely unable to keep the smile from his face. Hvitserk took Ubbe by the arm, giving him a shake. "Think King Ecbert will put up a better fight than King Aelle? Huh?"

"He will have a larger army." Björn was saying. Rúna sat down beside Ivar, waiting for Sigurd to draw closer to the others. "We will meet more resistance, that is certain."

She cupped her hand over his ear, dropping her voice to barely more than a whisper. "Bodil told me King Harald has organized a siege on Kattegat while we are here." Rúna felt him stiffen in his surprise. She smirked again, continuing, "Good fortune, no?"

He turned to her, smiling brighter than the noonday sun. "Very," Ivar mouthed to her. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, but there wasn't enough privacy to discuss it further. There was no need; both understood that, at the least, Lagertha would be on edge after this attempt on her throne. At best, she would be weakened.

Rúna returned his smile, pleased to have brought it to him. She laid her head on his shoulder, watching England—and her scared people—pass by. But Rúna did not get much time to enjoy the countryside before Björn was calling for her.

"I've a task for you," he told her, eyes flicking to the side. Rúna followed his gaze and gave a little start. Huddled beneath her richly embroidered cloak sat Princess Blaeja. She felt herself stiffen in anticipation of the next words. "Aelle's daughter is too… valuable a captive to leave at the camp. We will need to take her into battle against Ecbert's forces, and we will need to have eyes on her. Your eyes. You can command a horse, yes?"

"Yes," she admitted. Rúna can only hope that she didn't look as disappointed as she felt. Björn was the commander of the army; she could hardly deny him. "You want me to ride with her?"

"Ride with her, defend her, keep her from being captured by any of Ecbert's men." Björn shrugged. "Surely it is not too much for you?"

"It isn't," Rúna bit out. First Tanaruz and now Blaeja, she thought meanly. I did not come to England to be a nursemaid. Though Blaeja was likely her age or older, that did not matter to her in the moment. Helga will be relieved, at least. And, if she were honest, she was a little relieved, too. Her bruised leg hurt no less even after a day of rest in the boat.

"Good." Björn gave her a tight smile and turned away from her. No longer under his scrutiny, Rúna sagged beside Ivar, pouting.

"Damn him," he breathed beside her. "I needed you for my battle plans." The wheels were already turning in his mind, she could see. His gaze hardened as he looked out across the water, imagination whirring, she was sure, with how he could reorganize his ideas.

Yes, those battle plans that she had alluded to the night before. The ones she still hadn't asked him about, and had no opportunity to at present. Knowing Ivar, though, they would soon come to light once they were perfected in his mind and the pride of his own genius got to him. She softened a small bit at his words, however. I needed you for my battle plans. She gave his hand a squeeze as she stood. Floki would need to know she wasn't going to be an active member of the battle, lest any Christians try to take Blaeja from them.

He was brooding in the back of the boat close to Helga and Tanaruz, she knew. Upon finding him, she explained Björn's plan for her. Helga, as she knew she would be, was pleased to have Rúna spared from the thick of battle. Floki glared toward the front of the boat.

"Do not hesitate to kill the girl herself, if need be," Floki cautioned her. "She is a Christian first, before princess and girl." He reached out, tapping her on the nose. "She is not to be trusted, my daughter. You would do well to remember that."

Rúna couldn't help her rueful smile. Her father knew her well. "Christian first," she repeated to him. "Everything else second."

In the end, Rúna did remain as Blaeja's guard. She had been hoping that Ivar might be able to sway Björn in this aspect; the two of them had spent the entire day scouting and discussing strategy together. All was revealed in a big war meeting with everyone crowded around Björn's fire.

"I wanted you with the bowmen," Ivar explained to her in a low voice, so as not to be heard over Björn and his booming as he explained. The two sat on the ground together, Ivar's bound legs stretched out before him, as always. Rúna sat with her knees drawn up, thoroughly displeased with her prospects after spending all day mulling them over. "You and Hvitserk, to set the pace, as you two are the quickest."

"Instead, I will be playing nursemaid and minding the princess," she sulked. Björn would never force this on Torvi or Astrid.

"That is not all," Ivar insisted. "Listen."

"Rúna," Björn was saying her name as he continued, "will ride out first, with Princess Blaeja. Having a hostage does us no good unless King Ecbert's forces see her and are aware of her presence. Surely, his army knows very well the suffering we brought to King Aelle's kingdom, but seeing one of their own—and one so prominent as a princess—as our hostage should upset them further. We want them scared, warriors as they may be."

"I noticed, when I was here with Father, that women are… stunted, in England. They do not have powerful women here. Father told me stories of their other raids here, of the Christians' reactions to Lagertha and her shieldmaidens. They will be confused and off-put, surely, and likely scared." She turned to Ivar, brow crumpling as she considered his words. At length, she shrugged.

"I suppose I should show them a true, pagan shieldmaiden, then." Ivar smiled at her, teeth gleaming in the firelight. His eyes were that vibrant, shining blue, as brilliant as the heart of the flames before them.

"I knew you would understand." He took her hand where it rested on her knee, drawing it up to kiss her knuckles.

Come the early morning, Helga held Rúna's face steady by the chin and painted her face. The dye—made from berries—was sticky and cold on her face. A long line, across her one cheek, over her nose, and across the other. Another line, over her bottom lip and following the curve of her chin. Helga added shorter lines and dots at her pleasure, painting intricate designs across the planes of her face. Then she braided Rúna's hair back, so that the war paint would be on full display. Tanaruz helped her dress in her armor, doing up the buckles and ties for her.

Beneath the breastplate, Rúna tucked the mistletoe branch close to her heart. Cling to the gods, and they will cling to you. Though weeks had passed since the Seer gave her this gift, the branch was still as spritely and green as if it had just been plucked. Rúna often wondered at this, what power the Seer had exuded over the branch to keep it from drying and withering. She hoped, perhaps, some of that same power would see her through Ivar's task.

Björn had not told her, in full, what the brothers intended for her, but Ivar had. It made her stomach twist to think of it; not even Floki knew. It was a secret between only those three.

Floki could hardly contain his giggles upon seeing her. It took a moment, but he found a spot to kiss her on the forehead where he wouldn't ruin Helga's work. "Look at her, Helga! She would put the very Valkyries to shame."

Rúna smiled beneath his praise, unable to hide her joy over it. Björn helped her into the saddle on a massive, black horse before setting Blaeja behind her. The girl was resigned, it seemed. Her shackles had been removed so that she might ride easier, but Blaeja made no attempts to hold on to either the saddle or Rúna.

"What if she slides off?" Rúna asked, glancing over her shoulder, but Björn only shrugged.

"Let her fall and join the fighting. She is our pawn to rattle the Christians. Improvise if you must."

Grimacing, Rúna chanced another look at Blaeja. Her dark eyes were trained straight ahead, seemingly unseeing, fresh tears making tracks down her stained cheeks. Gods, Rúna thought. She's no spine to her. Tanaruz is a child and more courageous. There had been a mishap, the afternoon before, which involved Tanaruz slipping away from Helga. Rúna and Floki had found her huddled and hiding. The girl had the forethought to throw her cloak into the river, making it look like she had drowned.

The rattling of Ivar's chariot drew Rúna's attention away from the silently weeping princess. She turned to him, a coal of smug pleasure burning low in her middle at the look of approval he gave her. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Lead us on, min dróttning." She blushed at his boldness to so openly call her queen, eyes flicking around to see if any others had overheard.

"You are a deposed royal of the blood yet, Budlungr," she chastised him. "And we are not married."

He smiled widely at her.

"Two things I mean to remedy when our business is done here in England." He swept a hand, motioning for her to spur her horse on before him. Blaeja swayed limply behind her, keeping her balance, but only just. That was at a slow, plodding pace. Rúna was almost certain the girl would drop from the saddle should the horse so much as trot. But perhaps that is what she wanted.

Unfortunately for Blaeja, a gallop would be needed to execute Rúna's part in this ploy. For the time being, she maintained a calm walk as she rode ahead of Ivar's chariot and the other army members as they left the forest. Out in the open the sun shone down on the combined forces of Norway.

"This had better work, Ivar," Sigurd called out. "Or you'll have wasted all our time, including Father's."

"You will see, brother. We will all see." Rúna thought, perhaps, he meant for the words to be mild, but the taunting and pride were evident in the words. She smirked to herself at the squabbling. If Björn of all people could see the value in Ivar's strategy, then only Sigurd's contempt for his younger brother kept him from seeing the same, she was sure.

They met Prince Aethelwulf, son of King Ecbert, in an open field, just as Ragnar would have done. Rúna rode at the front, ahead of the band of brothers, even. All the while, Blaeja sat warm, silent, and apathetic behind her. When Björn brought the army to a halt, Rúna turned her horse to the side, giving Aethelwulf and his army a clear view of the princess.

There were shouts of recognition, a collective turning toward the Christian man heading their forces. Even across the great expanse of the field, Rúna could see Aethelwulf's jaw go slack in shock.

"Go," Björn told her softly. Her signal. Rúna pushed her heels into the horse's sides, spurring it into a gallop and ignoring Floki as he questioned where his daughter was meant to go.

"Ha!" She told the horse, giving a smack of the reins to coax it faster. She rode hard straight for the Christian army, biting back a laugh at their shocked faces, before tugging the reins to turn the horse sharply to the left. Finally, a reaction from Blaeja; she clung to Rúna, taking fistfuls of her tunic to keep her balance as she cried out. It sounded like she asked a question, but Rúna didn't know enough of the Saxon language to understand nor give her an answer. Instead, she stood in the saddle, looking behind her to see the Great Heathen Army retreating, as was Ivar's plan. But she also saw a chunk of Aethelwulf's forces behind them, trying to catch up.

"Our gods protect us, Princess Blaeja," she prayed quickly, uncertain if the girl understood any of her own words. Per the plan she had formed with Ivar and Björn, she road into the forest, where some of the archers would remain hidden in the trees. The growth was thick here; it would force the Christians to enter in a line if they had any intent to retrieve the princess.

Soon enough, the dying cries of men filled the forest in Rúna and Blaeja's wake. She turned the horse then, circling back through the trees to meet with Ivar and Floki. The princess was yelling, but still clung to Rúna for dear life.

"What was that?" Floki fumed at her when she returned. She and Blaeja were meant to be a performative taunt, not actual players in the ploy.

"Strategy," Rúna and Ivar spoke at the same time, the former unable to keep the excited smile off her face. She continued, "At least twenty men were dispatched to follow us, but they all lay dead or dying in the forest. Aethelwulf should be in a right state to see us with the army once more."

"Björn knew you would say no if we asked," Ivar explained at Floki's continuing scowl. "So… we did not ask."

"I have eyes," Floki snapped at him, though the amused twinkle in his eyes betrayed his down-turned mouth. "Lead on, Ivar. We've an army to confound."

Rúna set her horse to keeping pace with Ivar's. Blaeja had calmed somewhat behind her, though fresh tears ran down the girl's cheeks. She still held tight to Rúna's clothing, but she was no longer screaming, at least. Her dark eyes were huge in her pale face. They stopped at Ivar's leisure, waiting in the weak morning sunlight. The shouting of Aethelwulf's forces proceeded them.

"Mmm, four blasts," Ivar told Floki, watching the approaching Christians.

"If you say so." Floki lifted his war horn to his lips, obliging the young man beside him. They turned at Floki's blasting, again giving false retreat from Aethelwulf. Rúna felt Blaeja twist in the saddle behind her; she found the princess looking over her shoulder. What was the relation Björn had told her? Aethelwulf was married to Blaeja's sister, Judith. Such strange names the Saxons have.

The army followed Ivar through a small valley that led them down and around the hill Aethelwulf had begun to chase them over. Coming up the other side, Ivar now had them at the back of the Christian forces.

This time, Aethelwulf did not take the bait. Rather, he led them on in the opposite direction. Watching their retreat, Rúna felt a warm swelling of pride in her chest.

"What are they doing?" Floki asked. Ivar was already smiling as well, delighting in the fruition of his careful planning. "Where are they going?"

"To Repton, I imagine," Ivar answered, removing his war helmet to get a better view of the fleeing Christians.

"To the boats?" Floki sounded equal parts shocked and offended by the idea. Rúna could hardly blame him; though this was part of the plan, and she doubted Aethelwulf would ever see the boats he sought, she and Floki had spent months crafting the vessels. "They are going for our boats? Oh, you crippled bastard! You were right!" Floki climbed into the chariot, throwing an arm around Ivar and kissing his face.

"You were right! Oh, you bloody mad genius, you were right!"

Ivar was right, and the other half of the Great Heathen Army would be waiting to ambush Aethelwulf on his way to Repton. Rúna felt as if her smile might split her very cheeks. She beamed with pride over at Ivar, delighting in their considerable success.

When it came time for the raiding of King Ecbert's now-empty kingdom, Rúna was relieved of Blaeja. Björn took over watch of the princess once more, slipping her shackles into place and pulling her along behind him by the short chain.

Rúna was free to go where she liked, to go along with Sigurd and Hvitserk and feed Christian goods to flames. There was fire and shouting and the sound of axes splitting wood in the search of valuables. She passed Floki in one hallway, being dragged along by the hand behind Hvitserk. Her father caught a rack of paper scrolls on fire, smiling all the while.

There was a little fighting to be had—guards that were encountered in another smoke-filled hallway deeper into the hold. Rúna was happy to use sword and shield, cutting down one man as Sigurd did the same behind her. It was a victorious day, to outwit an army and raid and fight with her father and friends. Stepping over the limp form of the priest Hvitserk had ran through, Rúna intended to follow the older boy's lead until a familiar voice caught her attention.

Helga's, singing a lullaby, as she had every night of Rúna's childhood. She gave pause, looking back to catch Floki's eye, and abandoned her intentions to follow her father instead of Hvitserk. Helga and Tanaruz should not be here, in the thick of the raiding. They had talked of it before sunup, while Helga painted Rúna's face, that she and Tanaruz would stay away from the violence.

Rúna slipped her hand into Floki's, lest they become separated in the smoke and press of bodies. A scream cut through Helga's singing, stopping it mid-verse. "That is Tanaruz!" She told Floki, prompting him to move more quickly over wreckage and the forms of dead men.

"Don't be afraid!" Her mother's voice was soft, barely audible over the crackling of flames, yet it seemed to fill Rúna's head in her panic. They were drawing nearer, but not near enough to yet see where Helga and Tanaruz were. "Trust me. You must trust me, as you do Rúna."

But how much does she understand? Rúna fretted.

"I love you," Helga's voice was louder now. "I love you."

In the end, it did not matter how quickly Rúna and Floki moved through the wreckage. They were too late to intervene. Another shriek, a thud, a gasp. Running, now, but then slamming into Floki's back when he stopped short, the breath knocking from her own lungs.

"No!" Floki roared, his outrage seeming to steal all other sound from the hallway as Rúna moved to see around him. She felt herself go cold all over at the sight of Tanaruz, a knife held firmly in her small hand, dark to the hilt with blood. Rúna recovered from the shock first, pushing past Floki and taking the knife by the blade to wrench it away from Tanaruz. She cared not how it bit into her palm and fingers, throwing it far down the hall so that it landed with a distant clang.

Tanaruz made a move to retrieve the knife, but Rúna knocked her down with a kick that was perhaps too much for the petite girl. In that moment, though, Rúna did not care, anger and smoke blackening her vision as she sunk to the floor beside the girl meant to be her sister and wrapped an arm tightly around her to keep her from escaping.

Sitting slumped against the wall beside her mother, Rúna became aware of her whimpering. She turned her head to the side, all her anger at Tanaruz forgotten as panic and desperation flooded into her.

"Helga, no," she begged, voice going thick with the onset of tears. "Please, no. You cannot leave." But even as she begged, she saw the dark stain of blood creeping over the front of Helga's dress.

With a bloodied hand, Helga reached out to caress Rúna's face. "Promise me you will not forsake her, Rúna. Promise me. I love you, Rúna. So much. Please promise me not to forsake your sister."

Tanaruz had gone limp in Rúna's hold, conscious but no longer fighting. Unable to form many words past the heavy lump in her throat, Rúna nodded her promise. "I love you, Helga. Please. Please."

Helga only smiled at her, cheeks growing paler by the second, before turning to Floki. She slumped, the last of her energy waning, and Floki caught her. "Helga." Her name was a plead in his voice, just as surely as Rúna's own begging. "Helga."

So gently it made Rúna's heart break anew, Floki stroked Helga's hair as she forced out more words. The blood was choking her, now, so that she had to cough and clear her throat. "You are not like anybody else. Be yourself, Floki. This world, it is too small for you."

Rúna buried her face in Tanaruz's veil as Floki began to sob, still pleading with Helga though all life had left her. She knew not how long she sat in that hallway, holding tight to her mother's murderer and listening to her father's heart break. The sun was low in the sky when Floki carried Helga from the hall.

Leaving Tanaruz outside in the courtyard, Rúna found herself unable to conjure any words for the girl. She merely patted her on the head, but Tanaruz seemed to understand she was not to follow.

Floki and Rúna buried Helga beneath a tall, strong tree.

"When Baldur, Odin's beloved son died, not only did people weep, but fire wept. And iron, and all the other metals wept. The stones wept. Earth wept. Farewell, voyager. Farewell, my heart. Farewell… for now." Floki eulogized her.

Just as she had no words for Tanaruz, Rúna could not force any now. Instead, she stepped into her mother's grave and kissed her goodbye, the tears running hot and thick down her cheeks. When the grave had swallowed Helga and only the overturned earth marked her forever-rest, Rúna sat down beside her.

She knew not where Floki had retreated. And she knew not where Tanaruz was. If the girl was smart, as Rúna considered her to be, then she would find Bodil or Ivar. Reaching into the breastplate of her armor, Rúna retrieved the branch of mistletoe.

"I understand, now," she rasped, her voice barely carrying the words she had not been able to give her mother but had found for the gods. "I have been betrayed, as Baldur was by Loki's trick." She gave the branch a twirl, watching the dance of the leaves set in motion. But who has betrayed me most? Rúna thought, privately. Tanaruz or the gods?

Turning her eyes skyward, she addressed her gods once more. "Please… please let her be with Angrboda. Let her reside with Hel and care for her daughter and Siggy. Let her dine in Baldur's hall and know only happiness and love in her afterlife."

Rúna leaned back against the tree, closing her eyes as new tears fell. She tucked the branch close to her heart once more.

And please give me the strength to do as the Seer told me, to cling to these gods, whose intended fate feels like betrayal.

A/N: Some scenes (Ivar & Floki, Helga's re-written death) taken from 4.19 and 4.20 of Vikings. I just really loved the scene of Ivar and Floki in battle, and I needed Helga's death scene since I decided to keep it.

Thank you to Puffgirl1952 the 2nd for reviewing last chapter!

So. Blaeja. I needed something for Rúna to do in this chapter to change it up and not just be blandly following canon. Historically, Blaeja doesn't die with her father when the Great Heathen Army sacks his kingdom in revenge for Ragnar's death. I decided to keep her and plan on using her some more in the future!

Also, yes, I kept Tanaruz alive. I have big plans for her and Rúna. ;)