Floki was a genius.

He figured it out quicker than either of them would have expected. Brynhildr had tried to come by more often to see if she could determine what he was working on, but Floki had been secretive. Instead, she spent time with Helga and Tanaruz. She braided the young girl's hair while Helga soothed her, speaking in her language. The girl was never keen on speaking in Brynhildr's presence, but it made Helga happy that she was there. Brynhildr appreciated these quiet moments with Helga, moments she never truly had with her mother.

They'd come to see Floki one day and found him ready, saying they would be going into the woods to see what he'd made for Ivar. Brynhildr carried Ivar and followed him through a thin path within the trees filled with a low fog that hid part of Floki's workstation in the next clearing. A small pit of fire was lit, the only thing that allowed them to see at last a large wooden shape with wheels.

"What is it?" asked Ivar.

"It's your legs, Ivar," said Floki. "It's your wings."

She carried her brother toward it, and as the fog cleared, they saw that the structure had two long branches extending outwards the way a cart was attached to a horse. Around the other end, it was open and had reins laying over the end, as if for a man to stand and guide the horse.

Brynhildr lowered Ivar onto it while Floki fetched a white horse held at a tree nearby, teaching Brynhildr to tie it onto this thing he'd called a 'chariot.' Both Ivar and the horse were given a sort of war helmet to wear as they began to rush around the forest, flying like birds.

In the coming weeks and months, they prepared their provisions and had their allies dock in Kattegat, boats filling the bay and making it seem as though the water no longer existed. People from Sweden, Norway, and Denmark had come to join them, men filling Kattegat and the surrounding forest to create this truly magnificent force who would swarm England and crush it into the dust.

Brynhildr and Ivar both believed they ought to be chosen as leaders for this great army, who Ubbe surmised might have multiple heads. Her brothers were less concerned with that. Hvitserk and Sigurd were helping Ubbe prepare for his wedding to Margrethe, while Ivar and Brynhildr could barely be bothered to attend. They'd only go for the sake of feasting, not to see Ubbe and Hvitserk openly compete for a woman that, later, they ended up sharing. Brynhildr found her brothers infinitely annoying.

Lagertha performed a sacrifice before their departure, Earl Jorgensen himself choosing to die to bring fortune to their Great Army. Strange lights danced in the sky, passing over them as an apparent blessing. Brynhildr saw Astrid disappear after that, then Bjorn. She wondered if it was what she thought it was, considering she heard Astrid was Lagertha's lover. With her jaw clenched, annoyed regardless of the explanation, she watched Lagertha invoke their gods and stab the sword gifted to her into the body of Earl Jorgensen, who gripped her shoulders and pulled himself closer to her in order to see it impale him fully.

Brynhildr took it as a sign of good fortune. This meant they would be successful, this meant the rats would indeed celebrate in Ragnar's name.

As they set out to leave, Bjorn called them to the docks to make the final decision on leadership. "Brothers," said Bjorn, "Sister. This is my decision. We refuse to share power with any of the other Kings and Earls, whoever they are, or however powerful they are. Least of all, King Harald Finehair and his brother, for they are dedicated to our overthrow. Is that understood?"

"Yes," said Brynhildr. "Say the world and I will kill King Harald and Halfdan."

"And how, exactly, will you do that?" said Hvitserk.

Brynhildr narrowed her eyes at him. "Women have their ways. I will find the right one." She turned up to Bjorn. "Which of us, then, will lead this army?"

"We are all equally Ragnar's children," said Bjorn. "But we are not equal in battle. So I will take the lead. I will establish the battle plans, and I will give the orders. Do you understand that?"

"That's not fair," complained Brynhildr. "You may be more tested in battle but Ivar and I were in England. Our father had us memorize their defenses. We know what he truly wanted out of this Great Army. You may give the final orders for everything but you must let us help make these battle plans."

Bjorn side-eyed Ivar, who was smirking in agreement. "Your age makes you both believe you know more than you do. Many months have passed, little sister, but you are barely on the cusp of turning seventeen. As such, what do you reallyknow? What have either of you done?" He leaned down to question Ivar in his face, "What battles have you won and what battles have you lost?" He straightened up, continuing, "For it is in failure that we learn the most."

"Really?" asked Ivar mockingly.

Bjorn snapped, "You don't want to listen, that is your choice. But I am the leader of this great army." He snarled in his face. "ME! And you will obey me! And if you do so, all of you, revenge for our father will be ours."

They set out, their ship near the front, shielded by the others but still leading them to their sweet revenge. They filled every stretch of water visible in the distance, their course due for the shores of Northumbria.

Once they finally docked, they swarmed the beach, quick to split at Bjorn's orders. Each King, Earl, and Jarl would lead their armies in a unit, moving little by little to meet the Northumbrian forces. Bjorn's plan was to have them seem so small in the distance that they were not a threat, and then, for the men to slowly build up into a unit until every last blade of grass in front of the English was covered by the feet of a Viking.

Bjorn had his brothers and sister join him at the front, Ivar in his chariot and Floki at his side. It was on the second day after their arrival that they met with King Aelle's meager army in a large clearing outside of the forest they'd been slinking through like panthers. They shouted in unison, tapping their weapons to their shields, staring ahead at the men who were about to meet their death, nowhere near enough to stop them. It would take very little effort to kill this first force.

"RAGNAR!" shouted Bjorn, calling them forward. Brynhildr began to run alongside Sigurd, Ubbe, and Hvitserk, swords and axes raised as they went to meet King Aelle's army.

Ivar's chariot rode along the edges of the army, guiding the men forward on Bjorn's signals, as he would otherwise trample their own men. Brynhildr felt a rush of energy as she finally reached the first line of Englishmen, cutting through them without much effort. A small fraction of their force was enough to surround them, ripping men off their horses and cutting through them with little effort. Blood splattered everywhere as she swung her ax at them with one hand and slashed her sword with the other, until a path was cleared for her to mount one of their horses.

Bjorn and Ubbe had taken on King Aelle himself, easily disarming him and tossing him onto the back of Brynhildr's horse. She shouted to their army, "WE HAVE THEIR KING! THE KING WHO KILLED RAGNAR!"

The men cleared a path, most of Aelle's soldiers were already dead at their feet, and others including a man with a pointy-hat were on the ground too injured to get up. She rode the horse towards Ivar, who had Floki already attaching chains to the end. King Aelle shouted all sorts of blasphemies about them being wretched heathens, and could do nothing as they fastened him to the chariot, which Ivar led through the path the Northumbrians had taken to get there.

They forced one of his men to tell them where Ragnar had died, having him ride ahead on Brynhildr's horse. She had him seated in front of her, holding a knife to his throat as he guided Ivar down the damp and winding path running between near-naked trees, Aelle's body dragging in the mud.

Rain began to fall when they arrived at the site. Brynhildr slit the throat of the man who had led them there while Bjorn dragged Aelle to some wooden planks covered in leaves. With their feet, the men swept away at the leaves until the planks were able to be moved, a pit below most likely the one said by Odin to have contained serpents.

"This is where our father was killed," affirmed Ivar.

Bjorn quoted, "How the little pigs will grunt, when they hear how the old boar suffered."

King Aelle began to sob, filled with pain and held by Sigurd with an ax to his throat. "How much gold and silver do you want to spare my life? Name your price. Anything– anything!"

"You're mistaken," said Ivar. "My father was worth far more than gold and silver. That is not the price you must pay."

Floki reached for Aelle, who spluttered fearfully as he was forced to his knees. "I've been told your god is a carpenter," said Floki. "And guess what? So am I. Brynhildr, come here. Today, you will learn to Blood Eagle."

Her brothers held Aelle down as Floki had her nail Aelle to a log, holding him still for the blood-eagling. Bjorn handed her a sword held in the flame, showing her how to slice open Aelle's back then, with all her strength, hack away at his rips to spring them from his spine. She was strong enough to do it, having been hammering at boards for the past several months on top of carrying Ivar almost all her life.

Blood splattered everywhere, bursting up into her face as Aelle shouted in pain. Ivar crawled beneath the log, staring up at Aelle and letting him be the last thing he saw. Aelle did not live long enough for his lungs to be cut out. They tied him to ropes and lifted him over the pit, held between trees with his blood continuing to drip down.

"Sister," said Hvitserk, offering her a small handkerchief. "Your face... I cannot see it."

"What do you mean?" she asked, twirling the handkerchief in her hands.

"He is right," said Sigurd, bringing a torch closer to her. "Since the battle, you've had blood bathing you. And now that you've blood-eagled King Aelle, you've become completely drenched. It looks as though you dipped yourself in a river made only of blood."

"I think she should leave it there," said Ivar, staring up from the ground. "Until our next battle. I want Ecbert to see her this way, so he might know he underestimated her. So he might see her bloody as she kills him, too."

Bjorn glanced over at her, then spoke quietly, "Bloody Brynhildr. Killer of Kings."

Her lips curled into a smile, and Hvitserk laughed, noting that not even her teeth were fully white.

_

They made for Wessex.

As their boats passed through smaller rivers, slinking near Mercia and heading to King Ecbert's castle, townspeople began to abandon their homes, running away in the hopes of escaping them. News of their arrival would be spreading to the high lords soon, and surely King Ecbert would already know of their movements. Brynhildr hoped to add him to the list of Kings she'd killed.

"It seems to me," thought Ivar as the siblings stopped to eat and rest, the weeks of moving tough on all, "that the Saxons are as timid as frightened women. Their hearts are faint. I don't think they can truly trouble us."

"You are wrong about that, brother," chided Brynhildr. "Even a frightened woman can find herself filled with power in the fear that she may not live if she does not fight."

"She's right," said Sigurd curtly. "You don't know enough, Ivar. You haven't seen enough."

"These are brave men," agreed Bjorn. "I have fought against them, you haven't."

Ivar spread his arms, "I can only see what my eyes tell me, Bjorn. And what I see is frightened people running before us. I see their spineless God running away from our gods."

"For once," said Ubbe, "why don't you just listen to an older, wiser brother?" He offered him a cup of ale. "These people who are running away, they're not warriors. They are not the ones who will stay and fight to defend this kingdom."

"And protect their honor," said Sigurd. "For what is a warrior without his honor?"

Ivar chuckled derisively. "I don't know. You tell me, brother. And, tell me again, how many battles have you fought?"

"Same as you, brother," said Sigurd. "Except I don't ride around in a comfortable bloody chariot."

"Both of you," said Brynhildr sharply. "Stop. We all know this isn't over. They still have fight in them. All that matters is that we have more."

"What you have to learn, Ivar," said Bjorn, "is that if you break up this brotherhood, we shall not succeed. We have many challenges ahead of us. So, if you want to keep arguing and whining like a little girl, then I suggest you leave. I don't see Brynhildr crying about anything. She kills men and she sees a path forward. If you do not do the same... then we do not need you."

"Oh, but you do need me," said Ivar, upset that Bjorn was praising his sister. "Why do you think Father chose me to come with him to England? He had a reason for doing so. He told me I was the one who would act for him, who would make sure he was avenged."

Bjorn held up the head of a stag that'd provided their meal, pretending to speak from it, "If that's what you want to think, then think it."

They all began to laugh. Brynhildr tried to diffuse the situation, "It's true. But, Ivar, it also means that you must think like Ragnar. He never underestimated the people of this land. We were underestimated by King Ecbert and that will be his downfall. But we cannot assume things will be easy, or we, too, will fail."

Ivar held up his hand, not wanting to hear it. He stared down Bjorn, "I understand it must be hard for you to accept that the true heir to the great Ragnar Lothbrok should turn out to be a cripple and a reject."

Floki laughed behind him. "So, this was what the grunting of the little pigs was all about."

"Don't be ridiculous, all of you," said Brynhildr tiredly, getting out of her seat. "You are so boring. Ruins a perfectly good meal. The true heir will be the one who lives to tell the tale of this journey and who acquires the most feats in our father's name. We all have a chance." She kicked Sigurd when he snickered. "All of us."

Camping out with these warriors was proving to be troublesome for Brynhildr. She wanted to be with Helga and Tanaruz, but the girl was incredibly anxious now that they were traveling, and it meant she was even more uncomfortable around Brynhildr. Thus, she opted to try and wander around, entertaining herself in the solitude of the nearby forest.

Even so, there weren't moments of peace in this. She'd pass by the tents of other Jarls, Earls, and Kings along with their warriors and stares would follow her. She knew what most of them wanted from her. And even those who did nothing in her direction bothered her.

King Harald, for example, had been on her nerves since she saw him again, and she learned soon that he'd killed Earl Vik of Denmark because he was married to a Princess named Ellisif that Harald had been in love with. Apparently, it was for her that he vowed to become King of all Norway. She didn't trust him for one second.

Keeping her distance was all she could manage, at least until they began to move again. They followed the path through Mercia to Wessex, knowing that the Saxons were coming up to meet them. They sent riders ahead of their party, led by the children of Ragnar, so their scouts might inform them of their enemy's movements ahead of time.

One day, as they were riding, one of the scouts came back, bringing their army to a halt. The man leapt off his horse and gasped, "The Saxons are less than a day's ride away. They have a large army."

Bjorn looked around at the others, "We'll make camp here. Tomorrow we shall fight. In the name of our father, we shall overcome."

As they began to disperse, Ivar called, "You can make camp. I want to take a look at where we're going to fight."

"What are you talking about?" asked Hvitserk.

Ivar mused, "They will expect us to fight in a certain way. Why should we do that? Why don't we plan to fight in a different way, and surprise them?"

Hvitserk posed, "Our warriors won't understand what's happening. We fight in the shield-wall. That's how we fight."

Brynhildr was curious, "And yet, we can revert to that if all this fails."

"Precisely," said Ivar. "We have a bigger army now. And they have a bigger army now, Hvitserk. We cannot fight in the same way."

"It's a lot to change now," posed Sigurd.

"Who are you to say that?" snapped Ivar. "Shut your mouth."

"Shut up, both of you," said Brynhildr, climbing onto the chariot with Ivar. "I say we at least hear Ivar out."

"We are siblings," said Bjorn. "Together! Why do you want to change the tactics?"

"Do you want to win, brother?" questioned Ivar. He tried to be more gentle, "Listen, come with me, Bjorn. Let's investigate the battlefield. Perhaps, instead of a narrow and small place, we should stretch the battlefield across a large area, many miles. And use the landscape. Ditches, hills, woods. What do you say?"

Bjorn considered it. "If it works, it is a good plan. If it doesn't, then it is a bad plan." He climbed on his horse. "Let us go, then."

The others remained at the camp while they rode out to see the possibilities of terrain ahead. They found a large clearing between the woods, with a hill near the middle. Repton lay behind them, and the Saxons would be coming up ahead, most likely having to find them from within the trees.

"What do you think, then?" challenged Bjorn as Ivar looked over the path. "What is your plan?"

"A game," suggested Ivar. "To frustrate them. We urge them to come towards us on the hill... then we retreat into the forest. We fire arrows, have another half of the army appear in the trees behind. Back and forth until they decide to go for our ships. We ambush them on that path."

Bjorn made a face. "They are not stupid, Ivar. How are we meant to get around them? They will make their lines and have defended flanks."

"Aethelwulf will lead them, will he not?" said Ivar. "They will have to follow a thin line through the forest."

"But they will not stay in the line. And why would they follow us up the hill if we have it? They will find it suspicious."

"But Aethelwulf is aggressive," countered Ivar. "He is impatient, we've seen it. He will want to kill us and he will chase us. All we do is lure him into a trap."

"Aggressive doesn't mean imbecilic," said Brynhildr, for once siding with Bjorn. "If we take the high ground– which we have a sort of 'right' to given we're coming from the direction closest the hill, then we have every advantage. We're already more likely to win. We can hide most of the army behind the hill as it is, and they won't know. We send in our lines a few at a time, engage below, have archers above ready to kill the Saxons as they approach. Besides, they may follow a thin line if they have horses, but these forests are wide. They'll have a mixture of cavalry and footsoldiers, won't they?"

Ivar's jaw was clenching. "Well, you wanted to come."

"To hear you out! I would support you if I thought it a solid plan, but I am not sure it is."

"What do you suggest, then?"

Brynhildr considered it. "We can easily frustrate Aethelwulf but we cannot underestimate him. They don't know exactly how big our army is. I say we have our men on the high hill, just enough so it's about the same as the last time a Viking army came to these lands. They'll have numbers for about that amount, maybe more. We can show part of our forces to make them believe our army is great but not massive. Have them engage in the front, hide some reserve forces on the Repton side of the hill, replenish as needed. Fill the hill and the surrounding forest with archers that can sneak through the trees once their army is distracted. Slowly move some of our men to end up behind them and cage them in the lowest part of the clearing."

"It may take longer," mused Bjorn, "but it would be better than to assume they will immediately fall into a trap. What of their horses? We have none."

"If we're on this hill, they'll approach from that end of the trees there. They'll need to cross a good part of a field, and some of it will be inclined downward. I say we use a rope. Run it across the slope of that little hill before the lowest point of the clearing. If they send out the horses first, we pull the rope up. The front line will trip and will cause chaos behind. We fire at them with our arrows, preserve our men for those who survive, and give our other warriors enough time to get around the back and attack from behind. That way it doesn't look like we're ceding the high ground, rather using it for its advantage. We hold our flanks and let them come to us. We can handle them with the men we keep on the high hill without even needing to round the forest, but that could at least incorporate Ivar's idea."

She knelt down, pressing her palm to the grass. "It is too damp here, but we could still attempt to start a fire and burn them where they stand. Another suggestion."

"We do Brynhildr's idea," said Bjorn, Ivar scowling.

Whether her contributions did much, she wasn't fully sure. As they arrived on the hill the next day, facing off against Aethelwulf's army, they knew they outnumbered them regardless of any other tactics. Aethelwulf had tried to organize his cavalry into neat lines, but the rope had felled them as soon as they all began to charge forward. The horses toppled, archers rose over the hill and from within the forest, and though their army began to wrap around, it became nearly unnecessary.

Prince Aethelwulf called his retreat once he realized Vikings were swarming in from the trees, which mobilized their army immediately to chase them back to Wessex– Prince Aethelwulf and his riders had a few hours of advantage, at best.

By the time they reached Wessex, several weeks later, it had been almost entirely deserted. Their men swept into the castle, taking out whatever guards remained. King Ecbert stepped out, allowing himself to be captured by Bjorn.

She emerged from the castle when she saw Floki emerge carrying Helga. Brynhildr ran to his side, asking what had happened– had a guard killed her? Apparently, Tanaruz had, before killing herself. Brynhildr surmised the girl had wanted to be free and knew she would never be.

Silently, feeling no triumphs from the day, she walked out of the walls beside Floki, until they found a soft mound of dirt where they could bury Helga. She insisted he sit with her while she dug, forming as deep a grave as she could beneath a large tree. He cradled her, sobbing, his forehead pressed to hers.

He wasn't ready to say goodbye even after she'd made the grave. She returned to the castle, where a camp was being set up for their men, and retrieved some of Helga's possessions. With a faraway look in his eyes, he set her down, then first placed her hair comb over her golden locks.

"When Baldur, Odin's beloved son, died," whispered Floki as Brynhildr knelt beside him, holding his shoulder, "not only do people weep... but fire wept." He placed on her neck one of her favorite necklaces. "And iron and all the other metals wept." He lowered a knife and her golden bracelet. "The stones wept." He set a smooth stone on her throat. "Farewell, voyager. Farewell, my heart. Farewell... for now."

He leaned his head on Brynhildr's shoulder, still holding onto Helga's hand. She didn't want to believe she was dead, and yet it was right in front of her. So suddenly, it did not make sense. How could the woman who'd truly raised her be dead? How could it be that the woman who taught her of the gods had had to die in a foreign land where their gods did not exist?

Brynhildr began to tear up, finding it unfair. If Helga hadn't felt this longing for a daughter, perhaps she never would have taken Tanaruz in. If Angrboda had lived, if Brynhildr had been a bit more attentive with Helga to make her feel she had a daughter already... but no, she'd always been more worried about preparing for battle than just being there with Helga.

Her mind was clouded as she met her brothers in the throne room, King Ecbert having been hung in a cage overhead. Upon her entry, Bjorn began to pace beneath the cage, though Hvitserk motioned for him to wait before he spoke. Hvitserk patted the spot between him and Sigurd at the steps of the throne, and she sat, half-smiling at her brothers. The elder of the two put an arm around her shoulder, the younger offering her a cup of wine.

Finally, Bjorn spoke in their language, "We have to decide what to do with King Ecbert."

"I don't understand," said Ivar. "What is there to discuss? We Blood Eagle him. Ecbert is as guilty as Aelle so we should do the same thing to him. I've told you this many times, brothers, I was here. I saw Ecbert hand father over to King Aelle."

"We all understand those feelings, Ivar," said Bjorn sharply. "No one is denying what you are saying. But sometimes– sometimes–" He jabbed a finger in his face, "We have to consider things beyond our feelings. And think what is best for our people."

Ivar huffed, "I know what our people want, Bjorn. And they want what I want."

"We have to consider our position of strength. And use that to our ultimate advantage."

Ivar laughed derisively, "You always like to complicate things, Bjorn. You think it makes you look clever."

"And what if we kill Ecbert, Ivar?" questioned Ubbe. "Huh? What then?"

"Well, then, he's dead, Ubbe!" said Ivar, as if this was the only obvious answer.

"We are in the middle of an enemy kingdom," exclaimed Bjorn, irritated Ivar wasn't understanding his point. "How long will it be before the Saxon forces gather up another army and drive us away?"

"Exactly!" said Ivar. "So we Blood Eagle Ecbert and then we move on. We raid this entire land, so that they never have a chance to assemble another army again. Why would we even want to stay here?"

Bjorn pinched the bridge of his nose. Ubbe replied, "It is what our father wanted. He didn't just want to win battles. He wanted land here. He wanted to make settlements so our people could live and they could work."

"Mmm, and we all know what happened."

"Yes," said Hvitserk, "but in those days, he did not hold a king to ransom, nor did he have a great army. We do."

"His family has abandoned him," said Brynhildr. "Aethelwulf isn't here, nor are Aethelwulf's sons. We have to find them. They have the influence to raise other men against us to try and rescue King Ecbert. Because, regardless if we kill him or not, they still have their line of succession. Aethelwulf is next in line for the throne, so he will take this place back even if Ecbert dies. If something happens to Aethelwulf, he has Aethelred next. Aethelred is my age."

"We could try to force them come back to leave Ecbert alive," said Hvitserk. "While simultaneously trying to capture them. If we kill Ecbert and Aethelwulf to make Aethelred the King of Wessex, we could marry Brynhildr to him to keep them in line. Make her the Queen of Wessex and have her control him."

Brynhildr made a face. "I object to that. I don't want to stay here longer than I have to and I don't want to be made to marry a Saxon prince."

Ivar pinpointed Sigurd, who'd remained sullen. "What about you, Sigurd? You've been very quiet so far. I'm sure you have an opinion."

"I agree with you, Ivar," said Sigurd, much to everyone's surprise.

"Excuse me?" said Ivar.

"We should Blood Eagle him," said Sigurd. "Have Brynhildr do it again."

"Finally," said Ivar. "Thank you."

"But I'm not sure," added Sigurd. "I'm not sure what they're saying."

Bjorn sighed in exasperation, "What I am saying is that we should do what our father always wanted."

Ecbert wiggled in his chains, calling down, "I'd like to speak." Once Bjorn gave him the floor, he spoke, "Well, I understand most of what you say, and I speak a little of your language now." He pressed his cheek into the cage. "I loved your father. He was my friend. And I know that, more than anything, he wanted to build a farming community here."

"And you killed all the settlers," noted Ivar.

"Yes," said Ecbert. "It's true. I did. But..." He laughed, wiggling his hand to make the chains clink together, "Now the tables have turned. We can make a new deal."

Bjorn narrowed his eyes. "What are you proposing?"

"Well, as you say, it's only a matter of time before you are driven away from here. Without any legal right to English lands, you have no hope of staying. Well. I am king of kings. And I can give you that legal right. I will give you a legal claim to the kingdom of East Anglia. It's a large kingdom. Because I am king, no one can question that claim. And it seems that... you have enough men to enforce it until it holds. That's my offer. You should consider it."

Brynhildr looked at her brothers. "We were betrayed before. I say we still find Aethelwulf, Aethelred, even Alfred– the next three in the lineage– and have them bear witness and sign as well. Ecbert is not long for this world."

Ubbe nodded as if it might be a good idea. Ecbert's motives were questionable. Ubbe asked the king, "What do you want in return?"

"I'll only tell you that once you agree to my proposal," said Ecbert, sitting back in the cage.

Brynhildr glared at the others, warning them not to trust him. Something didn't seem right. Ecbert was just as calm when he gave Ragnar and Lagertha their land before, yet he still betrayed them. Later, Ivar said he recommended they take the land and still Blood Eagle Ecbert.

It irked her that no one was willing to hear more of her advice, of her worries. These weeks had taught her that she wasn't exactly going to miss being around her family, with the way they always believed she knew nothing. Underestimated her perception, her wit. If she was truly wrong, why not teach her? Why simply brush her aside? It kept her from wanting to attach herself more to any of them. Sigurd was insufferable to be around, Ivar seemed to resent her again, Hvitserk only wanted to coddle her, and both Bjorn and Ubbe thought she was too young to understand everything.

How she looked forward to the day she'd leave it all behind. This was not fulfilling her. This did not come close to the ecstasy she'd have when she killed Lagertha.

She thought of Aethelred as she imagined herself killing King Ecbert. No, she would never be Queen. She very much doubted it. But she envisioned a day where she'd have something to call her own, people who would listen. The influence of a Queen without the title.

Wessex was not providing that. She wanted to move on.