Bjorn had Ivar and Brynhildr stay behind.

She was upset to not be included, the rest of them leading Ragnar to the forest to discuss not only the news of his apparent son, Magnus, but also presumably to confront him about the settlement. Yet, it was better that Ivar was excluded as well, which at least kept her from being alone. The entire time the others rode away– the horses probably frustrated to be called upon so soon with hardly a moment to rest– she glared at the back of Ragnar's bald and tattooed head. Hvitserk looked over his shoulder and mimed a motion over his face, reminding her to control her stare. She did nothing of the sort.

Ragnar did not join them for dinner, which Brynhildr was grateful for. She sat with her family, she and Ivar at opposite heads of the table, while her mother sat beside Sigurd, the two across from Ubbe and Hvitserk. Ragnar had apparently offered his sons the opportunity to go to England with him and avenge the settlement. Ubbe and Hvitserk had already been planning to stay behind to protect their mother, and Brynhildr had been weighing the options before her– stay in Kattegat or follow Hvitserk, Bjorn, King Harald, and his brother Halfdan to the Mediterranean.

Now, a new choice was offered. Perhaps this was a step in the right direction. It did entail leaving her family, but did not make much sense with entering a land the Vikings would never touch, unless through England she'd find a path elsewhere and continue alone.

"So," said Ivar as Ubbe finished explaining, "Father wants to go to England. Why do you not want to go with him?" Their brothers all refrained from looking at him. "Ubbe?"

"You know why," said Ubbe flatly. "Now shut up."

"Is it the same for you, Sigurd?" challenged Ivar. "Or are you afraid of being seasick?"

Sigurd said smartly, "I'm not afraid of anything, brother."

Ivar's eyes glinted mischievously, "Not even me?"

Brynhildr rolled her eyes, Ivar's attention drawn away as one of their slaves came to ask if he wanted more ale. This poor girl, Margrethe, dealt with much at the hands of her brothers. Brynhildr could see that they all desired her, none more obviously than Ivar. As he gripped her arse firmly, she snapped, "Let her go, Ivar."

"Why should I?" he challenged, though he let her move away from the table. "She's just a slave. All our brothers just want to have her. You, too, Ubbe."

"Ivar," chided Aslaug.

"Mother," replied Ivar in the same tone. It seemed to make Aslaug almost smile, and Brynhildr sighed, the blatant favoritism winning again. If Aslaug herself did not scold Ivar properly, he would not listen to anyone else doing so.

Still, Brynhildr noted, "You yourself have threatened the men in Kattegat who have tried to grope me, wishing to sire sons by Ragnar's only daughter. If you do not wish for it to be done to me, why in all the gods would you do it to another?" She drew a sip of her own ale when he turned away, jaw tight. "Well, I, for one, think I'm going to accept our father's offer. If he is going to avenge the settlement, I want to participate."

Hvitserk made a face, "Mineri, it may not be safe. He did not ask you."

"When has any Viking ever cared about safety?" she challenged. "I am not a baby anymore and I will not have you all limit me because it involves our father. It doesn't matter that Father did not ask me. I will tell him that I am going and he will take me or he will die. I hardly had a chance to learn from him and I wish to. I wish to see where my destiny lies." She gave her mother a significant look, and Aslaug sighed, as if to admit that she may be right.

"You know what that means, then," said Ubbe. "Tomorrow, in the woods, we will see how ready you are. Bring all your weapons."

Brynhildr's lips curled up. "Gladly."

_

Ivar had been quiet the entire ride up, though Brynhildr did not care to ask why. She and her brothers were carrying him on a chair tied to two long branches, allowing for easy transport without need for saddling him. He, too, must have been grappling with the decision of what he would do. Perhaps he did not like that she was so free to follow Ragnar if she so wished.

They had an area in a small clearing where they always came to practice. Well-hidden from the rest of the village for privacy, targets of all sorts carved out for them since they were children. There was rope holding up the heads of recently-hunted animals, to test their aim with their bows and crossbows. Tree trunks made a line between that area and the sparring area, serving either to rest upon when shooting or to simply rest. Behind the sparring area were more targets for their axes and knives, consisting of slices of trees marked with blue paint.

Ubbe had her and Ivar begin with the animal heads first. Ivar was an excellent shot, but Brynhildr had proven herself better long ago. She tucked the arrows in right beside each other, points forming new shapes with their shadows as she made each one turn to accommodate the other that wanted to take its place. The crossbow, she used less often, given how it was held, but even with that she knew how to hit a moving target if need be.

Hvitserk and Sigurd entertained themselves in a mock battle, the elder with two swords and the younger with two axes. Brynhildr watched for a while, only mildly entertained, then took two axes and two knives of her own to toss at the targets. While Ivar kept up with his bow, Ubbe had her block his sword with one ax, then two. It was child's play. She hadn't found difficulty in that for quite some time.

They stopped once Ivar seemed to grow annoyed with the lack of attention, turning around and firing an arrow between Hvitserk and Sigurd's practice. Hvitserk raised a brow in challenge, dropping one of his swords and turning on Ivar. Ivar dropped his bow and picked up Ubbe's sword, quick to block Hvitserk. His upper body strength was something Brynhildr considered a great advantage in spite of his lack of mobility. Hvitserk was jumping around like a rabbit and still did not gain the upper hand, Ivar more suited to turning only his torso and guiding his arm as smoothly as water to catch his steel. Finally, the two had their swords against each other's necks, and Brynhildr found herself laughing.

Ubbe began to pour them some ale, offering some to Brynhildr, and then to Ivar. Sigurd made a face, tossing his ax right at Ivar's hand, knocking the cup away and leaving him without drink. Brynhildr anticipated what was about to happen and had only begun to shout Ivar's name when he'd already picked up an ax of his own and tossed it over Sigurd's head. It lodged in a tree behind him, but as Sigurd turned to face him, Brynhildr saw blood leaking down over his forehead and the bridge of his nose. Ivar had cut him.

Tossing his other ax down, Sigurd gave a huff and made for the forest. "Don't forget we are fishing later," called Ubbe. Sigurd raised a hand only to show he heard him and continued on by himself.

"You're acting like children," she said sharply, the fun ruined. Ivar seemed smug, though his eyes were narrowed at Sigurd's departing figure until he disappeared in the green. "You know, you all seem to think you know better than me because you are older and you are men. Yet, I think, you grow too easily distracted as men. Always looking for who to fuck and who to fight. If you all took pause more often, I think you'd be truly great warriors."

"I think you are ready to go to England, Mineri," said Hvitserk, plucking her cup of ale away and drinking from it. "Though, I wish you'd decided to come to the Mediterranean. To the unknown."

"I benefit more from following Ragnar," said Brynhildr. "I don't think anyone else will. And I need to see that as a sign of where I am meant to go. I am not like you. I am not revered as a son of Ragnar Lothbrok because I am a daughter. Mother knew my destiny would be different. I have to take a path that none of you will follow if I hope to see this history I will change."

She gathered her things, "When Ragnar comes to see us, I will tell him I intend to go with him. You all, do whatever pleases you. It is no longer my concern."

Brynhildr walked the rest of the way back to Kattegat, deciding she did not wish to go fishing with them. She and her mother dined alone, the boys still presumably out by the beach. Aslaug had little say, only that it was Brynhildr's choice alone what she did. At least her mother seemed to support her.

She kept to herself, having heard Ragnar went to Hedeby to visit Lagertha. She prepared a small knapsack to take with her, sharpened all her weapons and tied them tight to her belt once she decided they would come along. Though she knew how to use a club well, and it awarded her an advantage when using sheer blunt force, she left it behind, believing she could use any other weapon to bash open a skull– even her own shield, if need be. She kept one ax and one knife. The crossbow remained on her bed, but her set of bow and arrows would be tucked beneath her shield. Having to choose between a sword and spear, she chose the sword. If she had need for a spear, she could make one.

It was late the night that Ragnar returned from Hedeby. She knew her other brothers were asleep– perhaps in the company of Margrethe, having heard they'd all bedded her now, even Ivar. Ivar himself liked to sit on Ragnar's throne in the evenings, something Aslaug would never permit.

Brynhildr had caught him the first time he tried it. She'd been seven years old, unable to sleep, and wandered in to find Ivar struggling to lift himself up. He'd hissed for her to go to bed, he threatened to hurt her if she told their mother. Rolling her eyes, she'd stepped toward him and helped him onto the throne, then wordlessly sat herself in her mother's seat, curling up until she was able to rest. By morning, Ivar had gone.

She walked around Kattegat alone in the dark, twirling her knife in her palms. She caught Ragnar stepping silently over the sand, making toward their great hall. She snuck behind him, tiptoeing then rushing at him as he rounded a corner, pressing the knife into the back of his neck.

Ragnar came to a stop, turning on his heel until he saw her. "Little Valkyrie. I am no longer surprised it is you who wishes to be Queen. Floki and Helga had much to say about you."

"Floki is more my father than you ever were," she said pointedly, flicking the knife away from him. "Yet, I cannot deny I am your daughter. I am coming with you to England and I will not take kindly to you saying I am too young or too fragile because neither are true. Hvitserk and Ubbe were younger when they went raiding with you."

He smirked, "I would not resist. I am glad that you have chosen to come to England with me. We will leave whenever the moment is ripe."

"Good," said Brynhildr, stepping away. "I will be ready."

_

She noticed Ivar was in better spirits at breakfast. She wasn't sure why. He had Margrethe beside him, practically hand-feeding him. Brynhildr rolled her eyes distastefully, focusing on her food while Ubbe and Hvitserk began to snicker.

"What are you laughing at?" demanded Ivar. "Hmm?" He accepted a berry from Margrethe's fingers. "She's my special servant now. And she has a lot of reasons to be grateful to me."

"Name one," said Brynhildr, leaning back in her seat.

Ivar's gaze darkened. "We're not sure we believe you, little brother," said Ubbe.

"And I'm sure you're jealous," said Ivar.

"You cannot keep a slave to yourself," countered Hvitserk. Ubbe agreed, "No, not like that."

Ivar held Margrethe's hand, the girl seeming lost in her own world, and turned to Aslaug, "Mother, tell them to stop tormenting me."

"Don't run to Mother each time you find it difficult to defend your crude actions," said Brynhildr.

Aslaug spoke blandly, "It makes me so happy you are with a woman." She changed the subject cleverly, "The rest of you boys should already be married. Ubbe, you should have children."

Ubbe tossed a berry at his mother, "I probably already have."

"Then you should claim them," said Brynhildr. "So you'll stop being in our house and bothering us." She smirked and dodged a second berry launched her way. "Come on, it is crowded here, and I'd like to start teaching someone how to fight, instead of always being taught."

"She is right," said Aslaug. "It has become crowded. Just because you are the sons of a king does not mean you can be irresponsible. It's important to find a woman and settle down."

"I thought I had found a woman," said Sigurd. "But now Ivar has taken her away from me."

"You cannot marry slaves," said Brynhildr, tossing her hands up. "Look at what happened when Bjorn did it. No one ever heard from Þorunn again."

"Or his daughter Siggy," said Sigurd under his breath

Aslaug side-eyed him. "Your sister is right. I don't mean love. You don't have to love the woman. As a king's son, you can have as many women as you like–"

Hvitserk and Ubbe tapped their cups together, snickering, "–but," continued their mother, "you need one to breed with."

"So, then, you don't believe in love?" asked Sigurd. "What sort of message is that for my little sister?"

"I didn't say that," corrected Aslaug. "Your sister is much younger and has her destiny to focus on. I have already foreseen she will never find love here."

Sigurd pressed on, "So you loved Ragnar when you married him? And he loved you?"

Aslaug tapped her knuckles to the table, "Of course I loved him!"

He shrugged, "Some say that you bewitched him."

Brynhildr pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek, opting to remain quiet but glaring at Sigurd to stop heading down this path– it would only anger Aslaug and Ivar. Ivar leaned forward, questioning, "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," snapped Sigurd. "I just want to know if she's ever loved anyone except Harbard. You remember Harbard, don't you? Mineri's real father."

Brynhildr kicked him under the table. "Do not call me that and do not say Harbard is my real father, he is not and you know it!"

"Of course she has loved someone else," said Ivar, always jumping to their mother's defense. How could he not? He was the child she'd always doted on the most. "She has always loved... me." He smirked, as if this was a great discovery. "Isn't that right, Mother?"

"She feels pity for you," accused Sigurd. "That's all." A silence lowered itself over the table. "We all feel pity for you. But sometimes, we wish that she'd left you to the wolves."

Both Aslaug and Brynhildr exclaimed at the same time, "Sigurd!" One because it offended her to have one son speak of another that way, the other because she knew Ivar would retaliate. Sigurd was the brother Brynhildr spent the most time with, but he never knew how to be quiet when it came to Ivar. Lately, she'd been keeping her distance from all her brothers for that reason.

"What?" asked Sigurd innocently, drinking from his cup. He went back to eating, but as Ivar stood out of his table, he tossed his fork aside, leaning back in his chair to watch him, a silent challenge paired with a patronizing grin.

Aslaug tried to stop Ivar as he gripped her chair, doing his best to walk. "It is all right," he muttered, determined to reach Sigurd.

"Are you coming over here?" taunted Sigurd. "Go on, Boneless."

"Shut up, you fool," said Brynhildr, gripping her knife tight. "Ivar, you're going to hurt yourself!"

Ivar ignored her, thumping hard against the table as Sigurd moved, utensils clattering to the floor. Sigurd ripped his chair away, making Ivar lose his grip. He began to stumble, and Sigurd called, "Come on, little Ivar, what are you going to do?" The closer Ivar got, the more Sigurd pulled the chair. Ivar groaned angrily in pain, the rest of his siblings on their feet and unsure if they should intervene.

Sigurd finally left, and Ivar crawled across the floor, yelling for him to stop. Aslaug kneeled beside him, "Brynhildr, I need your help."

"Do not touch me!" snarled Ivar as his sister came close. He tried to swat her away. "Do not, do not–"

"Stop it," she demanded, getting to her knees and leaning herself sideways, tugging at Ivar's arm to get him onto her back. "Ivar, stop resisting! Sigurd already left, it doesn't matter anymore." She pulled him up, leaning onto her mother to get herself back to her feet. She leaned forward again, reaching back to grab Ivar's legs and carry him to his room.

He slammed his fists against her shoulders the entire way, until she tossed him unceremoniously onto his bed. "You and Sigurd always ruin everything with your bickering," said Brynhildr angrily, pushing his legs onto the edge so she could sit him up. "Face it, Ivar, you cannot catch up to him, but that does not matter. You are still stronger than him, physically. The only difference is that in your mind, you seem to believe you will never face consequences for your words. They hold weight, as Ragnar's son. Stop letting your anger get the best of you. You are clever but no one will ever value you for it because you keep acting selfish. We don't pity you, but we dislike you. Not because you are a cripple but because you are a cunt."

He breathed heavily, glaring up at her. "I am going with you and Father to England. He asked me last night."

"Good," she said curtly. "Maybe you'll finally learn some patience."

She went to finish her breakfast, the table abandoned. It was better that way, so their comments would not sour the taste of food in her mouth. Margrethe began to clean the mess Ivar had made, but Brynhildr motioned for her not to. She'd clean it herself. No sense in torturing that poor girl any further.

Late that afternoon, King Harald Finehair arrived with his ships and men, prepared to follow Bjorn to the Mediterranean. A feast was prepared, though Brynhildr didn't believe he deserved it. Bjorn had told her that King Harald's greatest ambition was to become King of all Norway. To Brynhildr, that sounded as though he might one day become a threat to them.

She sat silently at a table with her brothers, watching Bjorn greet their guests. Lagertha arrived with some of her shieldmaidens, and Brynhildr sat up with interest, hoping she might stay. It would be nice to have at least one lesson with Lagertha before leaving for England.

Bjorn guided King Harald and Halfdan to them, "Come meet my brothers and sister." He beckoned them to lower their cups and stand, "Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar, and Brynhildr. Hvitserk is coming with us."

"I remember you!" said Harald, pointing to Ubbe. "I remember all of you! But how you've all grown tall. You're not children anymore." They laughed, and Ivar called, "I am so much taller when I stand up."

Halfdan said, "I'm sure you wish you could come with us."

"Go to Hell," said Ivar with a cold smile.

The men began to laugh. "Princess Brynhildr," said King Harald, reaching his hand to her. He took it, kissing the back of it. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman. Will you not be convinced to come with us?"

"No," she said, drawing her hand away as soon as he released it. "I have other adventures in mind, King Harald." She didn't want to be anywhere near him; what if he thought he could wed her and use her to seize the throne of Kattegat?

Floki provided a necessary distraction, leaping up behind Halfdan and Harald to greet them. As soon as he took their attention away from them, beckoning them to greet Helga, Brynhildr sat back down, side-eyeing her mother, who had raised her eyebrows as if to tell her that it had been rude to be so dismissive of their King.

It was ridiculous of anyone to expect her to marry a man so much older than her. Even Siggy, Earl Haraldson and Rollo's wife, had killed an old Viking that her daughter was forced to marry. Brynhildr deserved to choose a husband the same way her brothers would choose wives one day. She had to at least find them attractive. So far, no one had truly caught her fancy, especially not someone as old as King Harald, who could have been her father. Unfortunately for her, the younger males in Kattegat steered clear because of her brothers, and weren't strong enough to catch her eye anyway.

Shortly after, Aslaug stood, beckoning Brynhildr to come with her. Together, the two moved toward Lagertha, who greeted, "Queen Aslaug. Princess Brynhildr."

"Earl Ingstad," said Aslaug cordially.

"Whatever our differences," said Lagertha to Aslaug, "it seems that my son Bjorn and your son Hvitserk will go on this journey together. And so, we must wish them both the luck of the gods."

"A sacrifice would aid them both," said Brynhildr.

"I agree," said Lagertha. "And we can both officiate, Queen Aslaug."

Aslaug narrowed her eyes. "You forget, Lagertha, I am the queen."

Lagertha remained serious. "I never forget anything."

"Perhaps I could officiate," offered Brynhildr. "I never have, and will soon undertake a journey of my own." She told Lagertha, "I will be going with my father to England."

Her brows rose, "That is remarkable." She eyed Aslaug, as if wondering whether the woman would say anything about her daughter wishing to ease these tensions.

"Very well," said Aslaug. "Brynhildr, you will officiate. So you might one day show these practices to the people you will find on your journey."

Lagertha's lips thinned, satisfied, and she stepped away as King Harald called, "A toast to all of us! Reunited and stronger than ever! Skol!" They all chanted, "Skol!"

Aslaug pulled away from Brynhildr, and moved to sit on her throne before she drank, looking down carefully at Lagertha. It was one of the many things Brynhildr saw in her mother that made her want to keep her distance. It made her think that the stories were true, that her mother had bewitched Ragnar. She believed Lagertha the wronged woman, and often found it hard to respect her father– and even Bjorn– for the way they leapt from one woman to another. There was no honor or loyalty in that. That didn't make them worthy of being rulers.

With her permission granted, they performed the sacrifice after the feast. Aslaug helped Brynhildr paint her face, streaks of black and red covering her as she was given a sacrificial sword to wield against a goat.

With her people chanting, torches bouncing in rhythm, Brynhildr cut open the animal, draining its blood into a bowl. She collected the bowl, and used her fingers to splash the blood over the faces of all those who would go to the Mediterranean. Bjorn, Hvitserk, King Harald– who extended his tongue out to lap up the blood once it ran to his lips– Halfdan, and the rest of their men.

She glanced sideways and saw Lagertha whispering something to her mother, who swayed as if she'd drank too much during the ceremony. At the end of the line, Brynhildr knelt beside Ivar, splashing his own face then dipping her fingers into the blood to smear it over her own.

The next morning, Ragnar called for her and Ivar to come with him. Brynhildr had Ivar over her shoulders, and carried him behind Ragnar through the mountains to a cliff filled with rocks and purple flowers, where he began to dig up the treasures he'd acquired in England before.

The wind whistled hard in her ears, brittle and cold against her body as crawled over the dirt beside her father, helping him dig while Ivar sat on a rock, observing. They'd dug up several chests already, but Ragnar insisted another was missing.

"What are you digging your horde up for?" asked Ivar, bored. "Huh? Everything you saved to spend after your death."

Ragnar flicked a mound of dirt right into his face. "I have no choice! I have to bribe people to sail with me."

"You're a loser," said Ivar.

Brynhildr swept off the last bit of dirt covering the chest. Ragnar questioned, "Why don't you come and help us lift, cripple boy?" She leaned down and helped him tug, while Ivar crawled off his rock to pull it to his side of the large hole they'd made.

The horn blew below. "They're leaving," said Brynhildr, sitting up. "How much time has passed? I should be down there."

"You should be here, with our father, if you intend to go to England," countered Ivar.

Brynhildr cast him a nasty look. "I didn't say goodbye to Hvitserk. What if he does not come back?"

"If he does not come back, he was a shame to have as a brother anyway," scoffed Ivar. "But go, then–" He flicked his hand, "Go and cry to Hvitserk as you always do."

She sprang up, slamming a foot into his chest. Ivar fought back a cough, but could not help and let it out. "I could have jumped onto your stomach," said Brynhildr. "Torn you open from the inside. And I would not have cried about it. I am fifteen, Ivar, not five. What is so wrong about wishing to send our brother off with a blessing?"

He brushed off the dirt she'd splashed on him, Ragnar appearing to smile to himself. Perhaps it amused him that his children were doing the things children their age normally did, now in his presence. Brynhildr went to stand by the edge of the slope, looking into the water. She couldn't make out Hvitserk in the mass of men, but made a silent prayer to the gods for his safety. And Bjorn's as well, she supposed.

"They'll sign off alright, Father," said Ivar, able to breathe again, "but they will be the worst." He popped open the chest and began to rummage through it, "They'll be shit. The dregs." He found a golden box filled with coins and showed one to Ragnar, "Who's this?"

Ragnar slowly lifted himself out to see it. "That is King Ecbert."

"Can I keep it?" asked Ivar. Silently, Ragnar closed his palm around the coin in confirmation.

Ragnar called the remaining men in Kattegat to a small post he set up outside a blacksmith's home. He made his bribe while Ivar remained inside, commissioning a 'surprise' that he refused to tell Brynhildr anything about. She went back to her room to rest, arms aching from how much they'd dug. She wondered to herself if Ragnar's bribes would amount to anything. She didn't think it mattered– she knew enough about boats to help Ragnar sail, and figured that it would be fine with only the two of them. If they were meant to reach England, the gods would help them along the way regardless.

Apparently, men did end up agreeing, though they had only a few ships at their disposal and would need to leave immediately before anyone changed their minds. Ivar called her to his room before their departure, and showed her what he'd had the blacksmith make for him.

"You can walk with this?" she asked, laying him down and slipping over his arms a sleeve attached to crutches. "Will it break?"

"It should not," he said. "I will be ready to walk in England."

Brynhildr pursed her lips. "Alright..." She fastened them tight and helped him sit up, pulling him to the edge of the bed. "Go on, try to stand."

He pressed into the tip of the crutches but did not rise. "Mother did not want me to go to England."

"Why not?" She leaned down, wrapping her arms around his torso and lifting him. "She always coddles you."

"I did not let her this time," said Ivar, leaning onto her as he gathered his bearings, tapping the crutches against the ground. "She said she saw there will be a storm. Everything will end in disaster and I will drown."

Brynhildr raised a brow. "You'll drown? Yet, somehow, concern is not extended to me about this voyage. Naturally."

"She has seen that you will live and I will die," said Ivar. "It does not matter if I die. I want to prove myself to the gods. She cannot stop me from finally being a man. Our father has treated me like one."

"I never treated you otherwise," she said with a scowl. "You like to believe we all hated you but we never did. Look who is here helping you put these things on yourself. Not Ubbe, not Hvitserk, certainly not Sigurd. Not even Father. Me, I am here, Ivar."

"And it seems because of that, you will live," he muttered, stepping back once he'd gotten a feel for how to move himself. She stepped back and made a face, "Aren't they too short? Your legs drag."

"This feels good," he said in disagreement. "I can walk this way." He began to move toward her, tapping the crutches down and letting his legs drag together in one swift movement. "Let us go find Father."

She led the way to the docks, the two of them wearing their armor with their weapons attached. Brynhildr had to admit that it felt good to walk alongside Ivar instead of carrying him or listening to him drag his legs behind– it gave her hope that if he lived, he'd do great things in England and finally stop whining about being pitied. And if he died, he'd receive a warm welcome in Valhalla for the battle he'd fought his whole life.

Their parents and brothers seemed surprised when they rounded a corner, all waiting on the platform leading to the docks and the ships they prepared. Aslaug reached out to Brynhildr first, giving her a kiss on the head. Ubbe and Sigurd each gave her a hug, and Sigurd added the extra measure of tugging at her ears. Behind her, Ivar was struggling to lift himself onto the platform. Their parents smiled for a moment, at least until Ivar slipped and fell.

She reached out to help him, but he swatted her hand away. With great difficulty, he crawled from the platform to the boat. Ragnar said, "Hurry up. We've got a tide to catch."

They set out with their bought men and three lonely ships. Brynhildr stood at the bow, looking out at the open sea, and turned her head only once to see that Sigurd was waving at her. She waved back, and wondered if she would ever see her brothers and mother again.

It was time to learn what destiny awaited her.