"Heidrun, go!" Her father yelled above the roar of screams. People flooded the streets of Kattegat, running in circles and frantic. A crash came from the street over followed by shouts. "Go! Now!"

Her mother was frantically pulling anything she could into a satchel and thrust it on her shoulder. She snatched Lhyrie up into her arms and let out a ragged breath. Lhyrie was too heavy to carry these days, but not fast enough to keep up pace at a run. "No," she pleaded, trying to force her husband away from his plan. Tears already pooled in her eyes.

"Aslaug and the boys need you. They will find somewhere safe. Go! Now!"

"Vigi! Grab your bag! Hurry!" Her mother called, looking for her son in the chaos of their muddled home. Her brother stepped into view struggling to hold a shield on his arm. "No!" She cried, grappling at him and the tears fell from her eyes. "No! No, I will not lose both of you!"

"Mother, I - I can fight," he tried to steady his young voice, but his lip quivered slightly. The sword in his other hand was pulling him in the opposite direction of the heavy shield. "Rollo called for anyone who can hold a sword."

Another bang ran out throughout the city. They were throwing up barricades near the docks. Rollo was barking orders over the confusion. Lhyrie began to cry into her mother's shoulder. Everything was so loud and everyone else was crying. Louder desperate shouts echoed from the beach. The ships grew ever nearer.

"Kattegat needs everyo -," her father began.

"Not my boy!" Her mother sobbed, nearly falling to her knees. "Not my boy."

Heirik stepped forward and thrust a small blade into her mother's shaking hand. Taking the moment to move a strand of hair stuck to the tears on her cheek, her father lightly pressed his forehead to her mother's and whispered, "To whatever end." Heidrun gave another ragged breath and gulped then nodded. Readjusting Lhyrie on her hip, she knelt and motioned toward Vigi who came rushing over, looking too much like the boy he was, dredging the shield and sword with him.

"Be brave," she smoothed his blond hair and forced him into a hold. For a moment she thought about dragging him out of town but released her grip.

She stood and paused, the rush of bodies around them quieting. A tear rolled down her cheek.

A crash echoed through the town that pulled everyone back to the moment. Heidrun wiped the tears from her eyes and struggled to turn away from her husband and son as Lhyrie hung on her hip. Mother and daughter ran toward the Great Hall, fighting against the current of bodies toward the beach.

Lhyrie looked back, uncertain of the chaos unfolding and watched as her father and brother ran toward the sounds of ambush.

--

"Who are you?" A voice snapped at her. Lhyrie turned to find the end of a knife pointed at her. She jumped.

"I'm Lhyrie," she gulped, "Mother told me to find berries."

The boy looked familiar, but she didn't know him. He squinted his eyes and scanned her. The dress she was wearing when they fled Kattegat was torn and battered already, but he figured she wasn't the enemy they ran from.

"I'm U-,"

"Ubbe! What are you doing?" Hissed from the doorway. "Get back inside," Siggy motioned for him to join her inside the small farmhouse they had found refuge in.

"I heard a ruckus," he told her, pointing toward Lhyrie.

"That's just the midwife's daughter," Siggy dismissed. "Where is your mother?"

"Milking," she squeaked. She recognized Siggy at least. "She told me to find berries."

Her mother rounded the corner of the farmhouse, wiping her hands on her dress and carried a bucket filled with fresh goats milk. "I'm sorry, Siggy. I was trying to keep her busy."

"Can we play, please?" Ubbe begged at Siggy's feet. Both women hesitated.

"Aslaug won't like it," Siggy said softly to no one. Heidrun nodded.

"That's not fair," Ubbe whined. "Hvitserk's boring."

Lhyrie peered up to her mother. The little she knew yet of the world, she knew the class divide was still enforced even while fleeing their homes. Hiedrun could care for Aslaug's children because that was her role, but having their children be friends was something else to a princess's mind.

"Please, please," Ubbe begged up at Siggy.

"For a little while as your mother rests," Siggy gave in, looking back into the farmhouse at the sleeping Aslaug curled next to Sigurd with a sigh. "But you have to play inside, in case scouts are out," she added.

Lhyrie looked up to her mother, who nodded and pushed her gently forward. Perhaps she wanted peace for a moment. Lhyrie paused before stepping into the farmhouse behind the boy and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Tag! Your It!" The boy lightly tapped her in the shoulder and ran behind a column. She stayed in her spot, continuing to look around the simple farmhouse. "What? Don't you know how to play?"

"Ubbe, quiet. Your mother is trying to rest," piped Siggy from the corner.

"I'm so bored," he groaned.

"Do you want to play bones?" Lhyrie asked sheepishly.

"Fine - Hvitserk, where's your ball?"

"Idinnnow," Hvitserk groaned from his spot. He was trying to nap too. Ubbe went over and kicked his foot to wake him. Hvitserk was slightly younger than his brother and shared the same sandy hair.

"This is – what's your name again?"

"Lhyrie."

--

"Lhyrie!"

Her name was called and she jumped. She released the arrow she had notched in the direction of the noise, but heard only a laugh in response.

"Was that supposed to hit me?" Ubbe asked walking towards her in the clearing. She had been at the training field this afternoon working on her archery skills. "It went a pace outside," he added, pointing to his left.

"You're supposed to be going to Paris soon. You wouldn't want to start injured on your first raid."

He cocked a smile. Something inside her fluttered at the sight. He peered over at the target in front of her, unblemished and the litter of arrows surrounding it and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you've used a bow before?" He teased.

"My step father made a new bow, I am trying to get its sight right," she told him, trying to flex the bow to show its rigidity.

"May I see?" He took the bow from her without her answer. Their fingers brushed and it felt like a spark between them. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she resisted the urge to pull away. He seemed to take no notice on their momentary touch, as he was focused on drawing the lines of the bow.

He had new leather on, she saw; it creaked too much with his movements and smelled like fresh polish. Looking slightly too large, it hung on his lanky frame. It was made for Paris. She was already nervous for him, they were too young to travel for a raid. Her thoughts shifted to her brother who wasn't much older than Ubbe when he lost in his battle; she tried to shake the thought but it lingered and made the feeling of giddiness in her stomach change to dread.

Ubbe reached over her shoulder to grab an arrow from the quiver on her back. Notching it quickly, the arrow stuck into the center of her target. He cocked his head to the side with a condescending look and smiled. Handing her the bow back, the flutters returned.

"Okay," Lhyrie admitted. "I'm not the best archer."

"Show me your form," he instructed, placing his hands agonizingly on her waist and turning her to face the target sideways. His hands stayed there and she was having trouble focusing on anything else.

She let out a slow breath and reached back between them to grab an arrow. Carefully she notched it, trying not to miss as her hand trembled slightly. Pulling the string back with another breath, she felt Ubbe move closer to her so that he was almost pressed against her back. His head nearly rested on her shoulder as she stood motionless for the moment. She tried not to jump at his touch.

"Loose," he breathed next to her ear.

Somehow, her fingers let go of the string and the arrow soared by the target, inches from missing it.

He laughed at a whisper. "Try again."

Agonizingly she gripped the bow and notched again. His hand enveloped hers to steady her aim - another flip of her stomach. She felt the fletching of the arrow on the corner of her mouth and along with the strain of the pull in her shoulders and back, she tried to keep her breath light.

"Raise your chin slightly," Ubbe said softly and lightly reached to put a finger under her chin to raise the millimeter for her. She hoped the inward shiver that ran through her didn't show.

The pull was starting to burn in her shoulders and she tried to stay as steady as she could. It seemed like an eternity they stood there. She could feel Ubbe's breath so close to her.

"Loose."

It flew to the target and implanted next to his mark.

"Ahha!" She twirled, throwing her hands up in excitement. She turned to Ubbe smiling.

"Do you want to try again?" He asked simply.

Lhyrie cleared her throat in answer and nodded, swinging her back toward him. She pulled back the bow and as she released, a tickle came to her ear. The arrow missed.

"Ubbe!" She exclaimed, turning on her heel to see him playfully running away, a feather in his hand. "What did you come here for anyway?" She called, moving to sit on a stump nearby. She pulled a sleeve of water out of her bags and drank longly.

Ubbe dredged back to her laughing and sat on a stump next to her. Lhyrie handed the water to him as he passed. He ran a hand through his short hair and took a large swig. "I came to shoot," he gulped with a cheeky grin.

"Be honest -,"

"I am," he held his arms up, his arm ring dangling on his wrist. "I promise."

"You don't have a bow," she teased.

"It's over there," he said, pointing near a mess of axes, swords and shields at the far side of the field.

"Well, I don't think you need the practice." She told him with a smile, looking over at him as he handed the water back. The butterflies started again as they sat a few moments in silence.

"Are yo -,"

"What d -,"

"Sorry," they said together. They both smiled sheepishly and looked down at their feet.

"Are you excited for Paris?" She finished her first thought.

Ubbe fidgeted in his spot and dug a toe into the dirt under his foot. "I'm anxious," he admitted. "But Father already said we're not going to fight."

"It's still very brave of you to go," she said. He pulled his attention from the spot of dirt onto her. A corner of his mouth twinged upward. Warmth filled her face as she blushed.

"Are you worried?" He teased, knocking her shoulder with his lightly. There was a devilish grin in his blue eyes.

Lhyrie pushed the hair that had fallen out of her braid behind her ears. "Maybe," she blushed further. "Maybe… I don't want you to go," she said softly. It took everything in her to say it and then look over to him.

Another flick of a smile and Ubbe leaned forward toward her. Their lips pressed together before both pulled away.

"I should get home," Lhyrie said softly, closing her eyes, trying to push the pink from her cheeks. She could feel Ubbe nod next to her.

He rose from his spot and offered his hand to help her stand. She took it gingerly and reveled in the touch. He was doing this on purpose, she thought. "I'll walk back with you," he said, still lightly holding her hand.

"You just got here -," she started.

"I told you, I'm just grabbing my bow," he said, dropping her hand and rushing to the pile of weapons by the large oak. "See?" He raised the bow he picked from the pile high in air.

They began walking the trail back to Kattegat slowly. "Can you do something for me while I'm in Paris?" Ubbe asked somewhere along the walk. He had been fidgeting with the quiver for his bow.

The question made Lhyrie stop. "Of course," she told him.

"Don't kiss anyone else," he said looking up. "And please practice your archery."

—--—

"Dare or drink!" The group called after the horn stopped in front of Hvitserk. Hvitserk blushed in his spot in the Great Hall leaned against the fire raging behind him.

"Aachh," he groaned and sat up, smirking. "What's the dare, Leif?"He asked across the circle of their friends.

"I dare you, son of Ragnar," Leif drew on, sipping on his own ale, "to juggle three axes."

Hvitserk laughed, snorting into his glass. "I can't juggle."

"Drink!" The collective rang and Hvitserk had to drain his cup. He threw his cup to his oldest brother to refill from the other side of the fire and Ubbe rose. Upon his return, Ubbe sent the glass down the ring of their peers and plopped next to Lhyrie in the circle.

Once or twice a year, these gatherings would form of the kids around the same age allowed to drink as much ale as they wanted without their parents fussing too much. Drink or dare was a popular activity during these times. Ubbe had broken into a crate of wine and was secretly filling his and Lhyrie's glasses with it instead of the ale they were supposed to be drinking.

"Spin, Hvitserk," someone called out.

Leaning forward, Hvitserk spun the horn in the center of the circle. It stopped at Lhyrie. She groaned.

"Drink or dare?" Hvitserk asked cheekily.

"Dare," she stared at him.

"Stay."

Her throat went dry and silence filled the Hall. She glared at Hvitserk in silent contempt and downed her glass quickly, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her dress.

"Well, that settles that," someone broke the silence.

The taste of wine was sweet on her lips and as the glass hit her stomach, her head spun for a moment. "Spin, Lhyrie," Sigvi said somewhere in the circle.

Lhyrie had to crawl into the center to grab the horn and stuck her tongue out at Hvitserk as she did so. Spinning on its side, it pointed next to her at Ubbe. She smiled devilishly.

"I'm just drinking," he said before anyone could jest. He drained his glass with a satisfying sigh. "Who's next?" He teased, spinning the horn rapidly.

Later that night, as the fire continued to rage and yawns stretched on their peer's lips, soon it was just Lhyrie and the Ragnarssons at the fire of the Great Hall. Sigurd was telling a story and acting out the battle as a one man show. Ubbe gave a full-bodied laugh and spilled Lhyrie's glass of wine onto the fur she was sitting on.

"Sjofn" he cursed, grappling at the cup, but the wine already stained red on the fur. Lhyrie tried to hide the stain with her dress but was too late.

"I knew it!" Hvitserk exclaimed. "You did open the wine. Mother's going to be so angry."

"And no one has to tell her, eh Hvitserk?" Ubbe threatened his brother.

"I knew you were getting too drunk," Hvitserk continued, sipping his own ale. Lhyrie wasn't sure who that was directed to and paused when Ubbe handed her another glass.

He edged closer to her, leaning to have an elbow rest behind her as he lounged back. "If you don't like it, Hvitserk, you can go to bed," Ubbe snipped.

Hvitserk rolled his eyes and threw his empty cup to his brother as he stood. He looked back before passing through the curtain back to their quarters. "G'night, Hvitserk," Lhyrie smiled, Ubbe poked her nose playfully, pulling her thoughts back into the Hall.

"Sigurd, do you want to continue your tale?" She asked him.

"No, I think I'll join Hvitserk," he stretched. "Good night," he yawned and passed through the curtains.

They sat together for a moment in silence, sipping their wine. "Two at the fire again," Ubbe smirked.

"Seems to be happening lately," she added, leaning back to rest on Ubbe's shoulder.

A few weeks ago, after a few mushrooms to pass the time, they had made a fire on the outskirts of town as the lights danced in the night sky. They laid entwined until the first rays of sun peaked over the hills, innocently caressing each other's lines like memorizing them for the future. Tonight started very much the same as Lhyrie curled into him on the soft furs.

Ubbe gave a deep breath. "Drink or dare?" He asked softly, stroking her arm. She could feel him smile.

She bit her lip to draw out the thought. "Dare."

"Marry me." It was said more statement than question and she snapped upward. "Marry me," he said again from his spot.

"You're joking," she pressed but found no trick in his eyes. "I – I can't," she stammered.

"You can," he whispered, propping himself up and laced his fingers in hers.

"I can't. I have to go with my family."

"I would be your family."

"Ubbe…" He scooted toward her and kissed her lightly. "You know I can't."

"People our age get married all the time," he pleaded.

"That's not the concern, Ubbe. It's a decision I can't – I won't make." He pressed his lips together then took a large swig of his wine. Leaning back down to the furs, he nodded his head. "Trust in me, Ubbe," she gently traced a finger down the side of his face. "I will return to Kattegat. Until then, can we have this moment?" Ubbe cupped the back of her head and pulled her back into a kiss for an answer.

The fire in the hall was dwindling as no servants came to stir it as they continued. Their hands explored more boldly and kisses grew desperate as Ubbe shifted more onto her. His fingers danced to the hem of her dress and it slid up her thighs with his hands. As his hands moved ever upward, the butterflies that were still present in her turned to discomfort.

"Ubbe -," she broke apart as his hands went under her hips. One of his hands went back to cradle her face and he kissed her longingly, interrupting her interference. She didn't protest for a time until a hand went to pull at his trousers. "No, Ubbe"

"We're so close already," he said between planting kisses on her neck.

"We can't have se-," she started before Ubbe kissed her again.

"Why not?" He breathed, his hands went back to under her hips and then tried to slip between her legs.

"Stop, Ubbe. I could get with child." The air from her lungs became stale. She scoffed and pushed him as hard as she could off of her. He balanced on the balls of his feet in front of her and breathed heavy. "Unbelievable," she grimaced, pushing her dress back down. "Was that really your next plan?" She spit at him rising from her spot.

"I don't understand why you just can't stay," he spat, anger growing. He stood, running a hand through his hair and flexed his hands wide.

"I have an obligation to my family to g-,"

He circled back to her. "Is there no obligation to me?" He boomed, stomping back to be within an inch of her. She flinched expecting something out of anger from him, but nothing came. No words came to her and he laughed coolly. Shaking his head, he sneered, "Happy travels." The flap of the curtain wiped shut behind him and she was alone.

She thought about following him for a moment, but halted her steps. They would cool, she assured herself and then this would pass. Her heartbeat rang in her ears though and then a tear came to eyes. A servant stepped out of somewhere and Lhyrie jumped. Wiping the tears quickly, she rushed out the doors as quietly as she could.

The few days had passed without at notion from Ubbe and as they packed their cart she had half a mind to run and find him.

"Lhyrie, come on darling," her mother called, pulling her from scanning the streets of Kattegat.

As they passed the Great Hall, a door slammed closed in goodbye.

——————————————

"I'm sorry," Ubbe said suddenly while they lay in bed in the early morning dimness.

"For what?" Lhyrie turned toward him and planted a kiss on his shoulder.

"I didn't say goodbye," he gulped.

"I was thinking about our childhood too," she said stroking his bare chest. "I think my mind is trying to separate the days with the Old Gods before we take in this new God today."

"It won't change the past," Ubbe said, running a hand through her hair.

"I wouldn't want it to."