And then, his time came.

They were together only a few more weeks before Oberyn decided he had to return to Dorne. Tolos had to be left behind, and their company was already sure to follow Brynhildr even without Oberyn's presence.

"We number just over one-hundred now," said Oberyn one night as they shared a cup of ale while watching Osric and Shyra tell a story about the Long Night below, a small fire lit to cast shadows over their faces. "I believe it is time for me to sail back to Dorne now. I may stop to see the Summer Isles first, if I find the voyage getting dull. Here–"

He offered her another pouch. "I've acquired you a job in Volantis with the help of Nymeria's mother, acting as guard to one of the Old Blood families while they conduct business with other foreigners they wish to invite into the city. Maseh will be your translator should you need it, but I believe your Valyrian is good enough to negotiate final payments and understand your post."

"Thank you," said Brynhildr quietly.

The past weeks had been more entertaining than anything in her life. Finally being a teacher, after being underestimated by everyone around her. Getting to speak with Oberyn more freely– he flirted relentlessly now that he knew she would be receptive to his attempts at seducing her. She liked him, and knew that when he came back from whatever he felt he had to do in Dorne, she would be open to trying to love him, to trying to see what her own heart wanted in spite of these strange surroundings.

Oberyn smiled, perhaps thinking the same thing. She wondered what he felt, given he'd slept with so many but never quite fallen in love. What about her had intrigued him so much? What about her made him want to try love when he hadn't been interested in the past?

He spoke back on the subject, perhaps sensing they were both thinking this might be goodbye. Goodbye to each other, goodbye to potential feelings– much could change in the time it would take for him to come back. "After Volantis, I advise you to pass through Myr and Pentos before you go to Braavos to acquire ships. See if anyone there will join you. In Braavos, I want you to seek out a man called Myllo Erastes. Say my name to him and he will give you all a place to stay and work."

Brynhildr nodded. "What does he do?"

"He's a merchant who designs and sells weapons, and could use his own guard as well as those with knowledge of the craft to aid him. You'll work to earn your stay and he will also give you the means to design and build your own ships so you might use them and even sell them. Before then, I suggest you start studying ships. You'll see many types in Volantis."

Her eyes threatened to well up with tears. "That... that means a great deal to me. Thank you for seeing this potential in me and giving me what I need to–"

"On the contrary," he interrupted, "thank you for being the person I could trust with the reputation of my company. I know my money is well-placed. There is one more thing I must ask of you. I need you to make that banner of yours."

"But... are we not truly remaining Brave Companions? It is the name you chose. And the banner–"

"Of the sun and goat horn?" He laughed. "No, it was all temporary. The Dornish sun and the horn of the Black Goat, with a simple name to describe those who were brave enough to follow me. If this is to become a better company, it needs a stronger name. I task you with finding one."

She began to hum, pursing her lips and thinking. "I was already considering names, honestly. Only because 'Brave Companions' sounded a bit... er..."

Oberyn wiggled his brows, "You can say it."

"Childish."

He chuckled heartily, "Yes, well, it sort of was. Tell me, what were you thinking of?"

"I liked the idea of us ridding people of those who torment them in discrete ways, and so I've toyed with the names 'Shields of Retribution,' 'Shades of Retribution,' and even 'Slayers of Shadows' – this one was inspired by you telling me that in this land, I would be Queenslayer rather than Queenkiller. But I don't fully like those."

"They could work," said Oberyn, "though they are a mouthful."

"My favorite is 'The Valkyries,'" she admitted. "Even if the company isn't all-women."

"There are no male Valkyries?"

"No. Though, I suppose, as a subset of them, our party of men could be known as the Einherjar– the word for those souls the Valkyries bring to Valhalla– solely by us. I expect to recruit women and have them outnumber the men in time. With jobs, I could send different subsections yet still call them all Valkyries."

He seemed intrigued. "What made you think of this name?"

"Just as the Valkyries choose who lives and dies in battle, so too we will choose who lives and dies based on what jobs we accept. Our banner would be blood red and the symbol of the Valkyries would be in black– wings surrounding Odin's knot, which is made of three interlocked triangles. I even imagine that when we are doing our jobs, we smear black and red paint over our faces with our fingertips, like claw marks over our eyes."

He reached out to her, dragging his fingertips across her face, as if to mime the motion she'd described. Brynhildr smirked at him, letting his hand fade completely off her chin before she leaned forward to kiss him. "Don't forget me," she said, tapping his leg. "Explore and be free, same as I will do. But remember that I do expect you to come back someday. And I hope... to have learned something about myself by then."

"I could never forget you, Brynhildr," said Oberyn. "Whatever you learn, I will be there to listen."

He still kissed her, still held the back of her head and pulled her to his lap, managing to catch the pouch of coin before it hit the floor. She still tugged at his hair and straddled him once they were in his bedroom, and they said goodbye in the form of words in the dark and fingers pressed into skin normally concealed by their armor.

They'd each departed the following morning, saying goodbye at the docks. Brynhildr had spoken to her sellswords about the company's name change before they began manning the ship Oberyn bought them to sail to Volantis.

She looked back at Tolos, at the edge of Slaver's Bay, and she wondered if she'd return. What would be waiting for her if she did. If Oberyn would be involved– gods, she was already thinking of him. She figured it was more the recency of the departure, the loss of both a good friend and a partner in bed that made her feel empty. There was too much ahead for them to be anchored back by one person. He wouldn't want that and she didn't prefer it.

Brynhildr relied heavily on the original members of the Brave Companions once they arrived in the gorgeous city that was Volantis. Though it was hot and humid, it spread vastly across the mouth of the Rhoyne as well as hills and marshes on both sides of the river. It had tall walls made of fused black dragonstone and within lay a labyrinth of palaces, courtyards, towers, temples, cloisters, bridges, and cellars.

Maseh, the chosen translator, stood beside her as they marched into the luxurious white-marble home of the wealthy House Maegyr, who they'd be guarding for the next two months. Their leader, Malaquo, had several young children and a very particular wife who had planned every last second of the two months the Valkyries would be guarding them.

"You will be training my guards as well," explained Malaquo in the Common Tongue, beckoning forward a line of ten shirtless men with swords. "While we conduct our affairs, I expect you to be preparing to leave my house behind with something to call its own– a force to be reckoned with. I remind you, Commander Lothbrok, that your group is small. I have hired you at the request of a dear friend to our family. But know this– should you fail me in any way, you will neverreach the reputation you seek."

"Nykham dhashi," said Brynhildr with her best pronunciation of Volantene Valyrian. "Kesak dohadim aosam lentlak sydan. Kema nulak udya, Tryrk Tygr." (T: I understand. I will serve you and your house well. You have my word, Triarch Tiger.)

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Urni nyma skoryin fieka, Fykinja." (T: Show me what you can do, Viking.)

He sent his guards at her. With a flick of her fingers, she asked Nasan, Vazim, Ahyad, and Shyra to join her, the five of them against his ten guards. Brynhildr was glad for a game, and even gladder for the outcome. Her fighters with their weapons against the Maegyr guard throats. Malaquo leaned forward with interest, tapping his fingertips together and smirking.

Their work was not hard. She was used to training her warriors and had already shown them how to teach others– her best pupil was Shyra, who stuck close to her and learned to convey advice in the same tone that Brynhildr did. It satisfied her to know the cycle passed on and she knew that House Maegyr would make it known to the rest of Volantis and a great deal of Essos that they were a company to be trusted. They were a company strong enough to hold their own.

Brynhildr went to the ports every day to study the ships, sketching them and noting the differences between them. The galleys had sails and oars, and were used for warfare, trade, and piracy, requiring frequent stops but operating with a large rower crew that enabled them swift travel. Longships were longer, narrower, and lighter, making for the speediest travel and built symmetrically to prevent having to turn around. These, she found incredibly similar to the boats Floki used to make, and based her first ship design on it, adjusting her knowledge from Floki to the proportions used on longships.

There were cogs, propelled by sails but difficult to move upwind with. Though, she heard sailors mentioning that they were better for rough sea voyages and, because of its requirement of smaller crews, allowed more storage space for trade equipment. Carracks, she learned, were stable in heavy seas and roomy enough to carry provisions for long voyages– these, she took more inspiration from, not knowing when she'd use these hypothetical ships of hers and how long she might need them for. Better to plan for storage than to not have it and need it.

Her favorites were the swan ships of the Summer Isles. They had great white sails, high masts and forecastles, and figureheads in the shape of birds, designed to outrun galleys even though they'd be helpless when becalmed. She wondered if Oberyn was there now, because surely he'd gotten bored on the way to Dorne– there was no question about that.

Brynhildr was glad she didn't miss him as much as she would have if she'd tried for anything more. Surely, if she'd tried to leap for that which she didn't understand, she'd be a pool of misery and of no use to anyone in Volantis. It gave her more time to think, to feel. Succumbing to such a desire might draw her away from the plan the gods had for her. It might make them think she was no longer worthy, and that was the last thing she needed now that she was so far away.

When they'd received the final payment from House Maegyr following their two month stay, they sailed up to Myr, bringing them close enough to Dorne that she was almost tempted to stop in Sunspear to see if Oberyn had already arrived. But she knew that she wouldn't want to leave Dorne if he was there. She'd want to spend time with him, want to sleep beside him, perhaps even break her own agreement so that she wouldn't feel isolated without him.

It was in Myr that their numbers began to grow. What started as a camp of a hundred grew to one-hundred-and-fifty when they were found by female warriors from Lys and Myr who were waiting for Brynhildr's arrival. She'd found them work guarding the city from a small Dothraki khalasar and used it to keep themselves there for another month, which gave time for other recruits to arrive.

From the Summer Isles came women who'd heard of her directly from Oberyn. Apparently, he'd already impregnated one of their captains, which made Brynhildr let out a laugh, not at all surprised. From Dorne itself came women who wanted the sort of adventure their kingdom could not provide, and had intentionally sought out the company founded by one of their Princes.

Brynhildr trained them as they guarded, having the ever-devoted Shyra place her once-Company-of-the-Rose women in groups overseeing the new recruits. Their numbers now stood at two-hundred against the one-hundred-man khalasar that came trying to sack the houses of the nobles living closest to the city's edge. She'd lost not a single person in the fight, having had them run a rope along the entrance they baited them towards, just as she once advised Bjorn to do in the battle where they first defeated King Aethelwulf and cleared their path towards Wessex to kill King Ecbert.

The Dothraki had fallen, horses cut with the poisoned rope. Many men had broken bones and those who hadn't were cut swiftly with blades now constantly soaked in poison. With their money, they'd purchased a proper galley to carry them to Pentos. Brynhildr had told her sellswords stories of her gods, and told them that if the Dothraki were less of a threat, she would have shown them the Blood Eagle on Khal Lono. Instead, she offered that they would use it one day, only on another sellsword company if they gave them trouble.

"Commander," said Shyra, nodding her head as she came into her tent, their fighters ready to depart the following morning. "I've relayed your message of our movement to all the captains."

"Thank you, Shyra," said Brynhildr, beckoning her to sit at her small table, the one bit of furniture in her entire tent. Her clothes, she kept in a knapsack, and her bed was a pile of sheets and a couple of pillows tossed together. Perhaps one day she'd be able to afford to buy all of them proper supplies to cart around from place to place. "Would you like some water? I wish it were wine, but I've had the barrels put away now that we are going to pack up at daybreak."

Shyra sat beside her, accepting a cup of water. "I wished to ask you about something, Commander. About... what we are allowed to do with our fellow Valkyries as we ride beneath your banner."

Brynhildr raised a brow. "What are you worried about? Has someone done something they should not have?"

"No. No, nothing like that. All the new women have settled in nicely. They respect you a great deal. None would want to anger you, not even the men. They see you as... well, a goddess, really. Us Northerners who still somewhat worship the Old Gods think you a manifestation of their power... for you, too, came from nowhere we know and linger here with a strength you bestow on us. Those who follow the New Gods, or the Black Goat, or the gods of Old Valyria, they all agree that you are not someone to disappoint."

"Then, what troubles you?"

"My brother Osric was looking at one of the Myrish girls. And I heard Nasan entertaining a Dornish girl who wanted to know if he has tattoos everywhere or just where our eyes can see. Is that... allowed?"

"Is lust allowed?" Brynhildr laughed. "Yes, that is allowed. Oberyn taught me many things about preventing pregnancy. Of course, you all know that you cannot safely run with this group if such a thing happens... you will be careful, I'd like to believe. As long as there is no abuse, I am fine with it. If I hear even a whisper of rape within our group... I will Blood Eagle that person myself."

"I agree," said Shyra, offering her cup for Brynhildr to pour more water. "I was only thinking because, well, we're a mostly-female group. But we do have men in our midst and even some women can be... carried away. I didn't know if we were meant to be taking any vows of chastity."

"Chastity? Surely you all heard me and Oberyn in Tolos. No, I could never expect you to do things I do not myself do. It would be hypocritical."

"Will you marry?" asked Shyra. She blushed, "That was an inappropriate question, Commander, forgive me."

"You don't need to speak to me so formally," chided Brynhildr. "You were one of the first to join this group. You are one of my captains for a reason. I don't expect any of you to treat me like a Princess, because for all you know, I'm not one."

Shyra considered it. "But... we want to understand why you were a Princess. We want to know what it means to be Viking if we are following you. We want to know where your strength comes from."

Brynhildr nodded, finding it a good suggestion. "Then, I will begin to speak to you all about it. I should have done it sooner, I simply... wasn't sure you'd all want me to be imposing my culture on you."

"It isn't imposing," Shyra insisted. "We want to know more about you. We admire you, Commander." She set her cup down, toying at the guards on her wrists. She pursed her lips, side-eyeing Brynhildr. "Commander, do you... have you ever... fancied a woman? Did Vikings...?"

"They did," said Brynhildr, having a feeling where this was going. "The Queen I killed, Lagertha, she had a lover named Astrid. I saw that poor girl go on to marry a man I did not like... Lagertha killed her at her insistence, I think, for she was unhappy in her marriage. I stepped over Astrid's body as I killed Lagertha. In a way, I reunited Lagertha with both her lovers. Astrid, and my father. I have never discriminated between men and women. Though, because I was a Princess, I did not have room to experience anything. So, I've never been with a woman. Never thought about loving one."

Shyra got to her feet, tugging at her fingertips. "Would you... wish to be with one? I've only been with one woman, but I don't know if I can... well, the point is, if you were curious..."

Brynhildr leaned back in her chair. "Are you offering yourself to me, Shyra?" When she nodded, she said, "You do not have to, unless you want to. None of you owe me anything simply because you admire my strength."

"I am not doing it because I feel I have to," said Shyra, slowly removing the armor on her wrists. "Rather, because I want to. I thought you were beautiful when we first came, but... it wasn't until I started learning from you that I wished for more. That I felt desire. Since no one else is warming your bed, I wondered... if I could be the first."

Brynhildr's lips curled. "Take off your clothes and lay down. I am sure I must have picked up something about pleasing women from Oberyn. Let us see what can be put into practice."

Shyra began to strip while Brynhildr remained rooted to the spot, sipping from her goblet and watching the woman rid herself of all her armor. She was much shyer now, and Brynhildr assumed that she liked to put on a strong front before her people, though it was no longer necessary now that she wasn't the main person in charge of their group. She'd probably been allowed to explore more of herself with this change of command, with a change in her strength. Brynhildr was happy to provide that.

She laid herself down, turning onto her side and biting her lip as she stared up at Brynhildr. Brynhildr began to remove her own armor only now that Shyra was done. Shyra watched in wonder, eyes scanning rapidly over every bit of skin that carefully became exposed. Brynhildr sank down once bare, Shyra's gaze not leaving her.

With her knee, she parted Shyra's legs and dipped down to kiss her, Shyra immediately receptive to her touch. Brynhildr liked the difference of her softer lips, of her delicate touch. She did her best to remember every last thing Oberyn had done– how he dragged his tongue over her neck, over her breasts, down her stomach until at last she settled between Shyra's legs.

Shyra was even more unlike the fierce woman Brynhildr had first met. She became so eager, begging Brynhildr for more and becoming shy when Brynhildr would look up at her from between her thighs, war paint still smeared over her eyes. She didn't entirely know what came after this– it wasn't as though she had anything to push into Shyra aside from her fingers.

Perhaps that was what was meant to be done. As Shyra gripped the mess of sheets beneath her, writhing and moaning into her hand, Brynhildr sat up and replaced her tongue with her fingers. Shyra arched her neck back as Brynhildr began to mimic the same motions Oberyn had, using her fingers as a substitute for what she did not have hanging between her own legs. She kissed Shyra's neck in the same way, she cupped her breasts and nipped at her ear.

And by all the gods, all it did was remind her of Oberyn, which was both frustrating and eye-opening. Brynhildr liked this, she did, but how was it that it didn't compare to what she felt with Oberyn? Was it because she knew him better than she knew Shyra, who was currently a mess of feelings beneath her?

Even as she tried and tested different positions– Shyra enjoying all of them– she could not get Oberyn out of her head. Brynhildr thought of him as she tangled her legs between Shyra's, as she kissed her back the same way Oberyn had. It wasn't fair– this had to be a test of the gods.

She decided to make it an experiment, to open herself up to other experiences. Shyra certainly didn't expect to be Brynhildr's only one, and so, Brynhildr opened up the space in her bed to others who'd begun to demonstrate interest, particularly after Shyra had made it known to many of the female mercenaries that Brynhildr was a goddess in more ways than one.

She tried out both Vazim and Ahyad, part of their initial group. She tried out a Dornish woman named Allyria and a Myrish fighter named Terysa. Even once they reached Pentos, she found lovers within their streets. Damned Oberyn had left her saddled with an addiction that could not be pacified.

Brynhildr had to force herself to a halt, before it took over her. She'd asked her lovers to entertain themselves elsewhere while she handled the new recruits in Pentos. This time, female fighters from Sarnor and even as far as the Bone Mountains came looking for the woman they called 'Commander of the Valkyries.' It let her know that the name was spreading– people recognized her banner.

She taught them like the others, only now part of the lessons included learning about why they were called Valkyries and what it meant to be a Valkyrie or an Einherjar– all at Shyra's request. Her followers were wanting to learn her language now that she was learning everyone else's. A few who had left behind their beliefs wanted to follow her faith, wanted to be reborn with Viking names.

They came to learn from her, to serve her, to find their desires met while a great reputation was still maintained. Some had begun to call her a goddess, but she insisted they not– no, she was not a goddess or even a demigod, merely a believer chosen for a greater purpose. What it was, she didn't yet know. But regardless, they continued from Pentos to Braavos with her, now numbering near three-hundred. Though the women significantly outnumbered the men, they, too, knew her strength was one to admire, and they kept with her the way Dothraki did their Khals, only with the added lust that more of her followers seemed to feel now.

It was difficult to resist them and at the same time easy– no matter what any of them did, none reminded her of the feeling she'd had with Oberyn. She worried that she'd already begun to feel affection for him before they slept together– perhaps that was why it felt so good, to the point none could replicate it.

In Braavos, Myllo Erastes had housed them. He was a muscular young man who had caught her fancy and still been unable to take away her memories of Oberyn. At any rate, he was in better spirits once they did their negotiations the day after their arrival. Brynhildr split them into jobs– some were guards day in and day out. Some were smaller parties sent out for protection during festivals. Some worked with her making weapons and others worked with her building their ships. A handful had been chosen as envoys to go to Lorath and Norvos and bring recruits.

When those recruits arrived, she was astounded to find they'd heard of her in lands much further. Not only did she now have shield-maidens from all the Free Cities, but even some people from the Iron Islands, the North, and beyond-the-Wall who'd come looking for something more had chosen to find out what she had to offer them. The answer was much.

The Valkyries numbered five-hundred by the end of her second year in Essos. They'd learned from men at the Arsenal of Braavos how to implement every last one of Brynhildr's modifications until she'd made their group five longships to keep and ten to sell. The Erastes blacksmith business had been booming with so many new hands working and innovating, allowing him to hand them some of the responsibility– they not only sold their own swords, but those they made as well.

Brynhildr was afforded the chance to move the majority of the company around for jobs, and they now had the numbers to back their claims of power. When the Maiden's Men had left the Disputed Land and come to bother one the Prince of Pentos, Brynhildr had moved them down as soon as he requested aid from the magisters of Braavos, and swiftly crushed their attempted seizure of loot.

The few survivors had been given the option to join the Valkyries, but had preferred to spit at Brynhildr's feet. Without needing to ask it of them, Osric, Shyra, Izir, and Maseh– her most loyal sword-wielders– had seized them and asked Brynhildr to teach them the Blood Eagle.

They'd made sure the act was witnessed and had brought the bodies back to Braavos as offerings to the Faceless Men, who they kept their distance from– neither did anything to interfere with the other's business. The gift had been met with appreciation, and the money they earned in Pentos was approved by the Iron Bank of Braavos, granting them their own house large enough to give a room to every single sellsword with some to spare for newer members. All others would require the addition of further wings, which they could now afford.

With their own home base, Brynhildr began to sell poisons and herbal remedies as well, though the poisons often came with one of her sellswords attached to ensure it was used only for what it was purchased for. She'd risk no interference with the Faceless Men, not now that things were going so well between them. Doors were even opening to begin selling ships and weapons in Westeros, even though they didn't often hire sellswords in any capacity.

And, despite it all, it meant much less without Oberyn there. Still, her path forward was hidden. There were still no leads towards any dynasty, towards any fate that could fill the void left behind by the new curiosity born within. Oberyn hadn't returned and she had grown lonely despite being surrounded by sellswords, surrounded by people who worshiped her. She craved something more, someone more.

Would the gods think her unworthy if she indulged?