She heaved and snapped another fragment of leg. Shards laid in a circle surrounding her, random bits and pieces scattered here and there as she worked, a hard labor working a sweat onto her brow and blowing the wind into her lungs. She broke off another piece and threw it into the pile. Her victim groaned.

Lhyrie carefully set the chair on its side as to not cause any further damage she would need to repair. The leg she dissected was scattered on the floor beside it and was utterly unrecognizable. She nearly giggled with excitement.

Somewhere in the chaos of wood splinters was a pile of her oldest bandages and she reached for one. Taking a random splinter, she tried to work the leg back together, pretending it to be a man's. If the bone of the leg broke, how would she bind it completely? Taking her time, her eyes strained with concentration, her fingers ached with caution. Her tractions were balanced, her knots were tight. She was working on the foot when Ubbe pushed their door open and stopped abruptly in the doorway.

"Do not say anything, I am almost finished," Lhyrie warned him without looking up. She pulled the knot of the bandage tight and tucked the loose end of it around itself. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she first looked to make sure she didn't miss any pieces of the chair and then up to Ubbe who had not moved from just inside the doorway. He stared openly at her.

"Alfred has people for that. And it would look better," he said, his tone light.

She stuck her tongue out at him from her spot. "It is an exercise in splinting my mother told me. I was just practicing."

Ubbe came over and shook the chair slightly, expecting it to shrivel. "Splinting legs?"

"Yes."

"Figuratively and literally," he mocked.

Lhyrie rose and wiped her hands on her tunic. She had splinters from the work. "Sit down," she demanded. "Let me see how I did." She waited, smiling up at him in challenge.

His eyebrows went up as his voice cracked. "Sit?"

"Yes. If done properly, it will bear the weight of a man, just as a normal chair."

"And when it – and I – fall, do you have a treatment?" Ubbe moved around and eyed it carefully and then her.

"A kiss."

"On my as–," he trailed off as he sat down and didn't immediately fall to the ground. He shifted his weight but still the chair did not crumble.

Lhyrie clapped her hands together in delight. She hadn't expected for the exercise to be successful. The wood was heavily polished and stained; she worried it would slip too much when rebound, but so far it held as Ubbe rocked back and forth.

"You could be a carpenter," he commented, a corner of his mouth tugged down as though he couldn't believe it. Then quickly, he whisked her onto his lap and hugged her close to him. The chair creaked under the added weight.

"Now if we fall it's not my fault," she told him, poking him lightly in his chest. "I told you it could bear the weight of one man."

He wiped away a strand of hair that stuck to her forehead. Kissing her, he shifted again and the chair gave another groan. "Mmm," he hummed. "That will serve penance."

"For what?"

"When this break."

"Oh, stop –," she started then shrieked as the chair broke apart underneath them and then crashed down, her makeshift leg scattering back into pieces. Ubbe erupted into laughter. "Stop it," she warned, whacking him hard. She shifted off him and started gathering the fragments back into a pile.

Ubbe stood and, making sure she saw the smile still on his lips, offered her a hand to stand as well. He pulled her back into a kiss, his hands wrapping around her back. He felt giddy, she noticed, his fingers tapping on her shoulders. His own shoulders held a stance they did when he was excited and his knees bounced slightly.

He pressed his forehead to hers and the smile still remained. "Alfred signed the creed," he said in one breath.

"The creed?"

"For our land." His eyes lit up as he squeezed her shoulders tight.

She snapped her head back to look at him. "That's fantastic! Ubbe, you could have told me first instead of me going on about my chair."

He shrugged and cocked his head. "You were proud of yourself."

"But you should be too!" She nearly shouted in joy at him. "This was your vision! You," she emphasized, cupping her hand on the side of his face, "made this happen. You are the one that

"Where do we go from here?" She asked him, her own jitteriness starting to rise with anticipation. "When do we go?" It had been two weeks already since the battle.

He laughed again. "Soon. But not now," he said gently, caressing her messy hair from her work. "Now, I need to get this splinter out of my foot."

She rolled her eyes. "You do not."

"I swear on the cross." He swung his arms open to show his innocence and limped over to the bed. He swung his left foot up onto the bedding with a grunt. There, sticking right above the line of his boot and imbedded into his ankle, was a small piece of wood. She would never hear the end of it, she thought. Sighing, she plucked it with ease but he flinched as she sat on the bed next to him. "I think that deserves another kiss as atonement," he told her. Lhyrie poked him in the shin with the piece. He drew his legs into his chest. "Are you abusive to all your patients?"

"Only to those who deserve it."

"What did I do to deserve it?" He swung his legs back over the edge of the bed. Inching closer to her, she still held the splinter in her hand and he eyed it cautiously.

"I can think of a few childish pranks that deserved a good poke."

"I don't know what you mean." He tried to hide a smile.

"You lit my braid on fire once!"

"That was Hvitserk," he answered too quickly.

Lhyrie squinted at him. "I don't recall Hvitserk being there." Her hand readied to poke him again and he quickly covered it while knocking her backward on the bed.

"Don't think about it," he warned, tickling her sides. She squirmed under him and buried her head in his shoulder. Once he was satisfied with his torture, he shifted off and propped onto his elbow next to her. His breath was warm on her cheek as his smile was still there, his excitement over their news shining through in the brightness of his eyes. That sheen had been lacking lately and it made her smile with him.

"We will travel by boat," he said with a pop of his lips.

"For?"

"East Anglia." The name sounded strange on his tongue as he said it carefully, cautiously, like it would jump from its spot on the map and run from him if he said it too loudly.

She nodded, the roughness of the bed linens brushing her cheek. She already felt her stomach churn from her spot safely on land. Gulping down anything creeping up from her stomach, she asked, "Is the party that small to go by boat?"

Ubbe laughed and, sensing her growing seasickness, placed an arm around her and stroked her back lightly. "It would make quick time," he whispered. "The river is the northern border."

"Wouldn't we want to bring more horses?"

He laughed again. "You can ask to travel by foot instead."

"Please," she begged of him, her knuckles white as she gripped his shoulder, "do not make me step foot onto a boat yet."

"I'll convince Alfred for you, minn iss," he smiled. "I never asked you, how was the boat ride from Kattegat?"

Lhyrie gulped again but not out of reflex but of discomfort. She still didn't like to think about that period. That journey from Kattegat to England, after the revelation that Ubbe decided to marry Margrethe, should have made her nauseated as well as her pending seasickness. Surprisingly, that boat ride had no incident. "There was no issue."

"Maybe it is just me then," he smirked.

He was present for all her bouts, she figured. Her seasickness before York was because she was pregnant and just didn't realize it. Their journey to Earl Vik she couldn't explain though. She shook off the thoughts.

No matter how they got there, Ubbe had secured their land. His father's dream was back alive because of his actions. She ran a hand down his face and through his growing beard, the wiry copper strands poking every which way. He looked so much like his father now, it was fitting to have the settlement come to fruition now.

A week later, Lhyrie stared at a group of chests nearly filled to their brim in their now nearly barren rooms. Their life was neatly packaged into five boxes. She knew they didn't need much but it seemed strange to see it so small. When she came to Winchester, she had only what she was wearing that night and the things she accumulated in the near year she had been at the Villa only recently started to feel like hers. Holding her fox fur cloak, it reminded her of Kattegat and of how her belongings only fit in two small trunks then. Comparatively, their life had grown so much.

She was about to jam the cloak into a chest when Ubbe burst through the door with Ragnar squirming in his arms, held out in front of him as though he was flying like a bird. Ragnar giggled, an innocent high-pitched giggle that only a baby's laugh can melt someone's heart. She stopped and turned toward them as Ubbe twirled them about, getting dizzy himself.

"You may need that," he huffed, catching his breath, his eyes still swirling. Ragnar squirmed again. "It is still quite cool."

"How about him?" Lhyrie asked, coming to caress Ragnar's curls and he quieted for a moment in Ubbe's arms. "Does he need another layer?"

"Yes. That is what we were coming to do and running from a nappy change," Ubbe laughed, swinging Ragnar toward their bed.

"I am glad Wynnflaed is coming with us," Lhyrie said, half to herself as she dug through one of the crates for Ragnar's clothes.

As if on cue, three hurried taps rapped on the door and it quickly swung open. Wynnflaed, Ragnar's maid, stepped in, equally – if not more so – out of breath than Ubbe with her hurried steps. Her white headpiece was a-strewn, and she hastily tried to pin it back in place while catching her breath. "I have been trying to catch you!" She heaved.

"We know," Ubbe flashed her a smile as he unwrapped a layer from a squirming Ragnar. Lhyrie tossed another sweater and a clean diaper for him on the bed.

"Were they giving you trouble?" Lhyrie asked her.

"Of course not, ma'am –,"

"I know my husband Wynnflaed, you do not need to lie to me."

"Slightly, ma'am."

Lhyrie laughed and closed the chest, pulling the latch tight. The buckle broke in her hand and ricocheted off her thumb. She cursed loudly. Wynnflaed crossed herself and looked at her with horror. She must have cursed in English. Wynnflaed had seen Lhyrie bloody and looking most unladylike, but Lhyrie was otherwise very composed around her.

"I do apologize Wynnflaed," Lhyrie told her, shaking out her hand.

Wynnflaed gulped and shook her head. "I have never heard a snake be described as such," she said blushing. Ubbe choked down a laugh from his spot. Wynnflaed shook her head again. "What other bags need packed?" She asked, looking about the room.

"These are all. They just need to be taken to the wagons."

"Well," Wynnflaed wiped her hands on her gown, "let me finish readying Ragnar." She scooted Ubbe away from the bed to finish changing the still squirming infant.

Ubbe came to Lhyrie and took her hand in his. He kissed her thumb lightly. "I think you traumatized her," he whispered.

"It is not like cursing is not common here," Lhyrie muttered back. "And nothing too scandalous. Not like walking in on us."

He snickered softly and then his laughter grew. Wynnflaed perked her head up from her spot and looked at them. "With your legs straight up?" Lhyrie's face turned bright red and she swatted him. Wynnflaed nearly dropped Ragnar. "It is all jest, Wynnflaed," Ubbe told her, trying to rid the look of discontentment from her face. She meekly nodded as she walked by them. Lhyrie slapped him on his arm again before draping her cloak over her shoulders and headed out the door behind Wynnflaed and Ragnar.

She remembered hating the gates when she first saw them, but now as they opened for the last time in front of her, she thought she was going to miss the heavy wrought iron of them. They creaked open and showed east. East toward Kattegat, but now also toward her new home, toward East Anglia.

Her horse staggered, waiting as patiently as she could as the gates finished their groan. Lhyrie pulled on the reigns to quiet her and she found her fingers trembling lightly. Her heartbeat was already up in her ears with nervousness, ready to start their journey. Drawing in a deep breath, she looked around at the party around her. It consisted of the King, her and Ubbe, Björn and Gunnhild, a handful of the kings' men and three other Viking men Lhyrie vaguely knew. More of the kings' men would be coming separately with Wynnflaed and Ragnar. Those in the courtyard were shifting on their horses as well, anxious to start the journey. Or they were cursing her for making them ride there instead of traveling by boat.

Finally, they were off. The travel was slow but she was just thankful. Even by horse, it was only a night to the beginning of their lands. On the second afternoon, the sun was warmer than it had been previous and Lhyrie squinted her eyes to the bright light in front of her. Ubbe was toward the front with Alfred. She could hear him telling a story, his laugh echoing back to her. She couldn't see him, but she was sure his hands were waving about, acting out whatever tale he was spewing. She laughed and smiled to herself.

"You must be proud of him." Gunnhild pulled her horse closer in step to Lhyrie's.

"Yes," Lhyrie answered simply, looking from Gunnhild toward the front of the vanguard. "I didn't think you recognized me."

Lhyrie knew that Bjorn freed Gunnhild after her capture from the battle, but Lhyrie hardly spoke with Bjorn anymore. She gathered that some form of a relationship was growing between them – whether it was captive induced or not she wasn't sure, but regardless, this was the first time they interacted since Harald's camp.

"You are the wife of a son a Ragnar Lothbrok. You are just as important as they are."

Lhyrie blushed at her response and then scoffed it off. "They are just men as we are women."

"I do not think you are just any woman to marry such a man."

"I knew them from little. When you still see that man as the teenager with ears sticking out like a moose's, you are."

She laughed. "I still think it is remarkable, even if you do not take the compliment."

"Thank you," Lhyrie squinted in the sunlight to look over to her. "I am surprised you came to join us and not return to York."

Her eyebrows flicked up. "This is the dream that started Ragnar Lothbrok, yes?" Lhyrie nodded. "Then I needed to see it."

"Where were you from before you came to York?" Lhyrie asked. She hadn't heard of Gunnhild prior to their first meeting, and she would've known her from her height if she was from Kattegat.

"Jutland," she said longingly. South. "I joined my first husband to raid with Harald's armies and then came with Olav to York. It was a shame he died too. He was a good husband."

"Olav was your second husband?" Lhyrie asked, taken off guard. Gunnhild didn't seem that old to have already had two husbands.

"Yes. Eric was my first husband. He was killed in battle also," she sighed and Lhyrie thought she might be replaying that death in her mind if she had also witnessed it. Her eyes were drawn far away. Suddenly, Gunnhild shook her head hard and forced a smile on her lips. "Two years is their expectancy, I guess." Her laugh came harsh to sooth the moment. "Is Ubbe your first?"

"Yes." She said flatly. Lhyrie looked back up to the front of their group and strained to see Ubbe. She didn't want to imagine a second husband. She gulped down the insinuation.

"May a son of Ragnar be the last."

Looking toward her, Lhyrie nodded but then a commotion toward the front drew her attention back there. She pushed her horse forward toward Bjorn and Gunnhild followed closely behind her. They crested a hill and paused. Around them was a crawling valley dotted with farms with a church standing on a hill in the distance. Near the church, Lhyrie could see the beginnings of a village, with smoke billowing from the shops and people running from them to meet them.

Lhyrie could see Ubbe, he was just a row in front of her now, but he jumped from his horse and knelt to its side. Grabbing a fistful of earth in his hands, he brought it up to his nose. Smelling in the musk, he then let it crumble through his fingers back to the ground.

"This is the kingdom of East Anglia," Alfred boomed from atop his horse. His voice rose above them and the citizens rushing to meet them. "Your land boundary is here – East to the sea. It is my gift to you."

"Look, Björn!" Ubbe called, grabbing more dirt in his palms. "Look at this treasure!" He laughed and again let the earth fall clumsily through his fingers. After it landed, he stood and wiped his hands away of the dirt on his pants. Moving forward, Ubbe marched by Alfred's side, nodding and greeting those who came to welcome them. With the help of a king's guard, Lhyrie reached for the reigns of Ubbe's horse, guiding her to wherever their next stop would be.

They wound their way to the village and church. Lhyrie could hear the contempt grumble on Bjorn's scowl as they moved closer and closer to the structure. All the while, Ubbe was greeting everyone they passed. Lhyrie thought his head would tumble off with the number of head nods he had thrown just on this walk. Alfred stopped and led them to a simple house. He ushered Ubbe, Lhyrie and Bjorn inside. Gunnhild started to join them, but a guard stopped her advance. Bjorn looked as though he was going to argue but Ubbe shot him a quieting stare and they settled in the small space.

"As promised," Alfred began, "these are your lands and my men will stay to help protect it. This house belonged to the family of the late ealdorman of this shire – this region. He recently died without any issue. His wife is rejoining her family. This can be your lodgings until another home may be built."

Lhyrie hid the smile that crept on her face as yet another nod came from Ubbe's neck.

"Ubbe, I would like you to represent the area as its new ealdorman in his absence."

Ubbe's head did not bob initially. His eyes flicked toward Lhyrie's and showed hesitation for the first time since their baptism. Why wouldn't it be an immediate yes, she thought. He had been apart of every negotiation for this land since his arrival to Wessex out of obligation, but now it would be an honor from the King.

He would be great. He was already a great leader, she reminded herself in that quick moment. He pioneered the battle with Harald, he was headstrong and firm about settling here, about leading his men at York, and the default figure between his younger brothers. It was a role he fell into.

The eyes that glanced to her now, showed the simplicity he wanted to follow. Of him sowing the earth tomorrow, digging too deep from inexperience; of him in the fall harvesting carrots, holding the tangled roots overhead with a wide smile; of him in the late winter throwing another log on the fire with Ragnar bouncing on his leg and another babe crying in the background.

Bjorn coughed.

"It would be an honor." Ubbe shifted his weight on his feet. His eyes met hers again briefly as though to question it.

"Thank you, Alfred," Lhyrie added. "It is a great honor."

"I am glad," Alfred laughed, the atmosphere in the room lifting. "I have not discussed it with my advisors, but given the success at Merton they can not say no."

"What a shame it would be," Bjorn groaned, knocking his head against the wall he was leaning against.

"Right," Alfred said, clapping his hands together. "After we sup I will show you the town. The abby is being reinforced with stone – that," he avoided the cold stare of Bjorn, "we will see last. There will be a mass tonight."

"What is this town called, Alfred?"

"An important outpost from my Grandfather's kingdom, Lhyrie, Medeshamstede."

They ate with a family that Lhyrie could not follow the familial connection to Alfred and toured the small village which mainly consisted just of a blacksmith, houses and a few stalls. No apothecary, Lhyrie noted. That would be beneficial for her. Lastly, as dark was falling and the citizens of the village had joined them, they journeyed to the church, with stone laid about its edges ready to be built up. They filed inside, Ubbe clapping arms awkwardly with the priest as he held his hand out. Lhyrie looked back and noticed Bjorn and Gunnhild had not joined them. They turned back, walking back to their temporary residence. Better for them not to grumble at the back, she thought.

After mass, they parted from Alfred. The candles and fire were dwindling in the ealdorman's home with Bjorn's snores filling the space. The main bedroom door was closed and Ubbe pressed his ear against it. "They took my bed!"

She smiled. Now he wanted to be ealdorman – for the comfy bed. "You can kick them out if you like."

His face twisted. "Not tonight."

There was a smaller bedroom they found, with bedding they curled into after the long days of travel. Ubbe shifted restlessly next to her. Finally, she propped herself up and placed a hand on his chest.

"Please rid them of that room."

"It is not that," he scoffed. "It – it is nothing." His sigh rose and dropped her hand. "The wall they are building around the church should be around the whole village. Like Lagertha had built around Kattegat."

He couldn't see her smirk in the darkness. "Does an ealdorman need approval from the King?" She asked, settling back down on his shoulder.

"I'll talk with Alfred tomorrow."

"Is an ealdorman like our earl?"

"Earl Ubbe." He cringed slightly.

"Hail Earl Ubbe," she teased him, tickling his ribs lightly. "Well, you're already thinking like one – with defenses."

"Let us not get ahead of ourselves. We start seeding tomorrow."

"Sowing," she corrected. "Have you inherited any of your father's previous farming capabilities?"

"We will see tomorrow," he laughed, pulling her close.

He drifted off to sleep easier then. Lhyrie closed her eyes, but a fitful sleep came. She woke nauseous, dreaming of boats and a sense of a storm coming.

Ubbe was already awake when she rose. He forced an odd-looking tool in her hand when she dressed. Lhyrie gulped and gripped the spading fork firmly before heading out into the sunlight.