Scandinavia
The journey to the coast is harsh, but the thawing ice means that they don't have to face the ridiculous cold that Mary has experienced on her way to Kiev. Once they are on the open sea, the ships much larger than the Viking rowboats, they jump the waves with a quick pace. Thumb, thumb, thumb, every time their ship falls in the rough sea.
Mary hates that part of the journey. She is separated from Ivar and Hvitserk, who are sat with Oleg on the Flagship, while she stays with servants and women, carrying fresh food, water, supplies.
She only sees them again once they drop their anchors in a small fishing town not far from Kattegat. Here, they are hidden behind the towering mountains of the Fjords and when the Rus make land, dressed in black, an army more menacing than most have ever seen, the villagers step away quickly. The army makes camp, stopping anyone from leaving the bay, even as they take over their houses, their kitchens, their fields.
Mary tries to reassure them, but there is little she can say as the people watch these strangers invade their homes.
Ivar and Hvitserk are kept busy all day, but when they come back, they tell her the plan. The great plan, that Ivar has been working on for so long. The plan that had to be hastily adapted once the Rus army turned out to be a bigger threat than initially thought.
And it is stupid. Stupid and bloody and she almost misses a strand of her hair catching on fire when they tell her, that's how confused she is.
"You cannot be serious," she says then, her hair carefully draped away from the fire, "Please tell me you are not serious."
Mary had been patient, has let Ivar brood in peace, and then with his brother. She had trusted that he would find the best way to save his people. Save their friends. He hadn't.
"Why?" Ivar asks harshly. He doesn't seem surprised by her reaction, seems to have expected it even, and still, he is angry. Hvitserk rubs his tired eyes with a sigh. He is not convinced by Ivar's idea either, but he has spent too much time trying to argue with his brother already, and the closer the battle drew, the bleaker the outlook.
Mary gets up, needing to move in her irritation, "You will land at the shore. Bla, bla, bla, tactics, sea depth, small boats. Then, Oleg's plan is to fight, clearly. His more personal plan is to go after one person in particular. Bjorn."
Ivar nods, "They say he cannot be killed. Oleg wants to prove them wrong. He hasn't said it, of course, but he is gathering a personal guard for battle. Spreading stories that the man who kills Bjorn Ironside will be King of all Vikings, Norse or Rus. He won't fight until he can fight the very best of them."
He doesn't like naming Bjorn the best of the Vikings, his voice tight even as he continues, "The generals are unhappy already. They don't understand why we are attacking Kattegat. Some think that I have somehow…influenced their Prince to chase my own revenge. I know that Oleg wants to prove his superiority. Above me. Above Bjorn. Above everyone."
"Yes, I get it. Honour, Fame, Ego." She waves him off, "But now your idea. Your fantastic plan, is to kill Bjorn yourself?"
She frowns, "So that you can get the fame from it and Oleg is denied the kill."
Ivar nods. She kicks him.
"Are you stupid? No, don't answer," she holds up a finger, "And then, when all that is done. You will still help the Rus win the war? Be crowned Puppet King?"
He is clearly annoyed at her frustration, "A puppet can cut its strings."
"Listen," Hvitserk tries to interject, even if he does it with clear hesitation, "Kattegat will not be able to fight off the Rus,"
"Not if you help them." Mary snaps.
"But once the army leaves, we can take it back. With Ivar on the throne, the Rus can be driven back to their frozen home much easier. There would be no need for a rebellion, no need for a secret plan to overthrow whatever man is names King."
"Did you not hear Oleg? He thinks this is his land. How do you know that he will not leave the entire army here? Or send it back once he hears about the change in alliances? If we cannot fight him now, we cannot fight him with half our men dead. What if he breaks his promise and crowns himself king after you take his kill?" she accuses Ivar, "I thought you had a plan. A good plan. A plan that would not slaughter half of Kattegat."
Ivar's eyes darken, "It is not that easy."
"Why not?" she demands, crossing her arms.
"He is right," Hvitserk sighs, "We. You, him, me. We are not welcomed in Kattegat. If we had something to offer them, if we could promise a victory to the Vikings, or a loss of the Rus, we might have been accepted back. But now…all we can do is play along and bide our time."
"Bide our time while they die?" Mary asks, pleads, "You say we have nothing to offer, but we know their plans. We can warn Bjorn about Oleg's hunt for him. Warn Lagertha. I know that she will do anything to keep her son alive."
"And then what?" Ivar asks, more angry now than ever, "We go back to live under her rule? Return in shame, never to be trusted, never to be respected? Kneel in front of Bjorn, who took the throne from me?"
"So, this is about your pride?" Mary fires back, "About your revenge?"
"It is about my survival. And I will do whatever I have to do to stay alive. For you to stay alive." He growls, his nostrils flaring and when he comes to his feet as well, he leans in close. Broad shoulders, strong arms, they all tower above her as Ivar tries to cage her in.
But she just shakes her head.
"You know Ubbe will be on that beach. Floki, Tanaruz, Siv. My friends. People who have kept me safe, even from you." She seethes, her voice getting louder, accusatory, "Floki who taught you, who build you a chariot. Ubbe, who might die before he ever meets his own child? And what of Helga, Inga? Do you know what will happen to them? Would you give their lives to save yours?"
"To save yours. I would give their lives to safe you."
Mary just turns away.
-.-
With the invasion planned for noon tomorrow, the army has been gathered, the generals all sleeping in tents surrounding Oleg's. Mary, however, is send to the large townhall of the village, where she sleeps with the other women and servants.
Or is supposed to, because as soon as she leaves the camp, she turns right. The guards barely pay attention to her, just another woman walking by the shoreline. At the very edge of the peer, Mary kicks a crate of apples into the water, before quickly jumping into the freezing ocean herself. The guards shift, alerted by the splash, but when they see the wood and apples floating, they just curse and call for someone to collect the food.
Mary swims, her teeth chattering from the cold. Even though everything in her screams for swim fast she moves slowly, deep and full arcs that make her glide through the dark water. The fewer waves she causes the better. The shadows of the night hide her well enough for now, it is now sound that will give her away.
She doesn't have to swim far, just past the last guard, but when she comes back to land, she feels frozen to the very core. She strips down to the underdress, hanging her other one on a tree. Making sure that the sea breeze will catch it and hopefully dry it by morning.
Then she runs. Spring is well on its way, but the nights are cold and she feels her fingers go numb. She runs until her lungs burn and then some more, running until she sobs at the light coming through the trees. A tavern. A house. It doesn't matter.
Mary almost falls through the door. Dripping wet, a knife in her hand, she must look crazed and the woman inside, her arms outstretched across the front of two young girls, stares at her. Thank God. A woman.
"I need a horse. Now."
"Mama, she is the Seer. She was there at the summer Solstice."
Mary doesn't know how the girl could possibly recognize her, but she does and the gods must smile upon her that night because the woman quickly saddles a horse and tells her the quickest way to Kattegat. Maybe she believes her daughter, maybe she just wants the odd stranger as far away form her land as possible.
Even though she has learned how to ride, Mary has to grip the reigns with full force, her thighs clamped around the horse's back, as they race through the night. She can't slow down. Not now.
The silhouette of Kattegat, mostly dark and asleep, comes into view and when Mary stirs the horse into the forest, every muscle in her body is rattled and aching. She cannot walk into Kattegat, not alone, looking the way she does, but there is someone she can go to.
She slips on moss, scratches her arms on twigs, and rips her dress on thornbushes, but then her fist is hammering against the wooden door of the hut. She almost falls over the threshold when it is suddenly opened, a dagger pointed at her throat.
Eyes, bleary from sleep und surprisingly normal without their normal paint. He stares at her and she stares at him, until a tired voice behind him asks, "What is it?"
Floki drops his weapon, "Mary."
'What?"
"Mary," he repeats and then Helga appears and behind her, Tanaruz. Mary almost cries. But she can't.
"I need your help." She pleads instead, "I have to talk to Lagertha. To Bjorn."
"Mary, what are you doing here?" Floki asks carefully, scanning the dark forest behind her with suspicion, "Where is Ivar?"
"Please," Mary says, "Trust me. I need to talk to them now. Floki, look at me," he drops his eyes to her face. "I am trying to save him. Save Hvitserk. Save you and Tanaruz and Helga. Please, help me do that."
Maybe he believes her, maybe his instinct to protect his family is too strong to ignore, but he nods and throws on a shirt, not bothering with shoes, before he leaves.
Mary is quickly pulled into the house, hugged tightly by both women, and then offered food and water. She only accepts the blanket, wrapping it tightly around herself, as she sits by the fire.
It doesn't take long for Floki to return and with him come Bjorn and Lagertha. They have no guards with them, but both are carrying a sword, both have plates of armours hastily pulled over their clothes. When they step inside and see her, everyone waits.
As King, Bjorn is the first one to speak, "You should not be here, Mary."
"I know," she sniffles, "but please listen to what I have to say."
Bjorn is clearly about to deny her, but Lagertha – now with white hair – puts a hand on his arm and steps forward, "Speak then."
"Tomorrow, an army of the Rus will attack your shores."
"We know that," Bjorn interrupts her with a scoff. He has aged, too, she can see it. Become colder. Become – somehow – bigger.
"You cannot beat their army." She says and Lagertha sits down by the fire, while her son stands. Floki just crosses his arms, axes in both hands, and licks his lips. He is nervous.
"You may find that our warriors are better than you think they are," Lagertha remarks.
"I don't doubt your ability." Mary quickly says, not wanting to offend them, "But I urge you not to underestimate them. Ivar tried t-"
"Ivar," Bjorn laughs, and Mary cannot help but be annoyed at his constant interruptions. "My traitorous brother, once again the enemy. Hvitserk, too, I presume?"
"He tried to send their ships straight to land," Mary bites, "Have them beach themselves. But another man, captured from Gotland, told them about the shallows. He has tried everything to sabotage this invasion. Suggested months when the weather is especially volatile, promised the need for few rations while pointing at barren land to camp at."
Before Bjorn can speak, Lagertha does, her voice gentle but firm, "If that is true, then why are you here now? Why has he not come himself?"
"Because he is a coward." Bjorn growls. A muscle in Floki's cheek twitches.
"He doesn't think you would listen to him. That you would trade information for safety."
Half true. True enough.
"So, that is what you want? Safety? A return to Kattegat?"
Mary nods, "Eventually, yes."
Lagertha raises one, shapely eyebrow, "Eventually?"
Mary nods, "Yes. The Rus are a danger to Scandinavia. Even if they lose, their kingdom is large and full of people willing to fight. As long as their prince rules, they will be a danger."
"You plan to overthrow him, then?" Lagertha asks, "Who will you put in his place?"
"I assume Ivar craves a crown," Bjorn mumbles.
"No. There is a boy. A legitimate heir to the throne."
"And he would be no danger to us?" Helga asks, confused.
"He wouldn't. He and Ivar have a sort of friendship. He would never attack his home."
As soon as Bjorn opens his mouth, Floki has his arm stretched, an axe at the other man's throat, "Another word and I will make sure you never talk again, boy."
No other man could say that and get away with it. No other man could have the giant Viking's only reaction be an annoyed huff of air.
"How do we know that you are saying the truth? You lived with their prince for months." Lagertha asks, not accusatory but careful. "Infiltration has always been a quick way to success."
Mary's face darkens, her voice drops into dangerous lows, "Believe me, I want Oleg dead more than any of you."
Lagertha tilts her head, a knowing look in her eyes, that turns into pity, "He touched you."
"He tried to," Mary growls, "I won't give him another chance."
She doesn't lift her gaze from Lagertha's cat-like eyes, doesn't want to see the reaction of people around her. Hell, she doesn't want to think about this at all. Neither Oleg nor the servant.
"What is your proposition then?" Bjorn asks, his voice gruff but less aggressive than before.
Mary takes a deep breath, "A life, for safety."
"A life?" he asks, clearly amused, "Whose life would be worth the return of Ivar?"
She looks him in the eye, "Yours."
Everyone seems to hold their breath simultaneously, and Lagertha turns to her son with worry. He shakes his head, "I am not easily killed."
"Maybe not. But neither is prince Oleg. Tomorrow is not about winning as much as it is about proving a point. He knows that Kattegat will not fall in a day. What Oleg wants, what he needs to do to keep the courage of men who have come so far from their homes, is to drive a sword trough your chest. To make a spectacle about him killing Bjorn Ironside, unkillable Viking. He will come straight for you, with guards to protect him against your men, while you tire yourself out during the battle. He won't be fighting you, he will be hunting you."
The words hang in the air, heavy and dark, and Lagertha takes a deep breath, "What would you suggest then?"
"Any chance you could just not fight?"
He just stares down at her and she sighs, "Thought so. Then at least remember this. Oleg is deceitful and arrogant. If he cannot win honourably, he won't even try. Either find him first, face him before wasting time on his soldiers, or stay away from him. They will come in small boats, to reach shore. Send men out across the coastline, their ships, their actual ships will be hidden somewhere nearby. Destroy them, set them on fire, I don't care."
Bjorn nods, his head already full of plans, and Mary nervously looks out of the window. It's still pitch black.
"Thank you." Lagertha says quietly, her hands covering Mary's, "You will have safe passage to return, whenever you so wish. Ivar and Hvitserk as well, as long as they come in peace." Mary exhales relieved, but Lagertha is not done yet, "But if my son dies tomorrow, if he falls through your fault, or one of his brothers', you will be killed on sight."
Mary gulps, but nods. It is only fair. He is her son after all. Their King.
"I have to go now," she mumbles, "I have to be back before dawn."
"Do you have a horse?" Helga asks.
"Yes. Thank you." Mary assures quickly, her clothes mostly dry by now, even if she still shivers when the door opens.
She turns around one last time. Helga hugs her tight and so does Tanaruz, and when she steps back, Mary pushes the hilt of a knife into her hand.
"What is this?" the girl asks amused, "It is like an overgrown needle."
"We can't all wield swords," Mary smiles, "But it is easily hidden. Take it, just in case."
And then she has to leave and she sends a million prayers that she will see them all again. She rides as fast as she can, and when she guides the horse into the thick forest around camp, the sky is just beginning to turn blue.
She has to tell Ivar. He will hate her for what she has done, but he cannot go after Bjorn. It would be his death sentence. Hvitserk will understand.
Once she comes close, she drops from the horse, leaving the mare not far from the road and hoping that it will find its way back home. Then she disappears into the woods. It will be easy enough to get back into camp. No one cares when a woman enters, only if she were to leave.
Her dress has fallen off the branch she had hung it on, and Mary kneels down, trying to find where the wind could have blown it. Until she feels a rough hand on her arm. Until she feels something shoved between her teeth. Until she sees Oleg, her dress in hand, smirking like the devil himself.