No one heeded Brynhildr's warning fully.

Bjorn made the decision for all of them and accepted the lands while allowing Ecbert to choose how he would die. Unfortunately, this entailed Ecbert slitting his own wrists inside his bathhouse. She had to sneak around Bjorn to enter the bathhouse just as Ecbert was going unconscious, reaching into the water and grabbing at the blade, digging it in much deeper on both arms just to be able to say she'd killed him to avenge her father.

They convened in the yard, setting up a great feast for all their allies using the food left behind by the Saxons. A large platform was erected for the children of Ragnar to sit in front of everyone, high up where they could be seen. Sigurd played his oud to entertain everyone, zoned out from their conversations.

Bjorn addressed the crowd only once Ecbert was confirmed to be dead– he didn't seem to suspect Brynhildr had been in there with him at all. "Friends... no one will ever be able to doubt what we have achieved! An army of all our peoples, and we have defeated not one, but two English kingdoms!" Their men cheered. "For us, the children of Ragnar, our first duty was to avenge our father's death. And that we have done. But also, we have achieved my father's dream. We have the legal right to the land, and to farm here!"

Their army cheered once more. "It is up to all of you to use this opportunity to send over new settlers and young families! Unfortunately, I will not be here to see this new settlement grow and thrive. My fate will take me elsewhere. I always knew I had to return to explore the Mediterranean Sea. And now I feel free to follow my destiny. As does my sister, I believe–" He raised his glass to Brynhildr. "Her path does not end in East Anglia. But, our brothers will be here for you. Skol!"

"Skol!" they chanted.

"I will be here," called Ivar, "but not to settle down and plow. Who wants to be a farmer now? Hmm? We have a great army and we should use it. There are many other places that I want to attack and raid! And those of you who feel like I do, you should come with me. And those of you who don't, ask yourself, 'Who can stand in our way now?"'"

The roar was much louder. Ubbe made a face, "You cannot lead the army, Ivar."

"Hmm?" challenged Ivar. "I don't want to, Ubbe. All that I'm saying is that, for those who are still brave enough to raid and find adventure, then I will lead them." He offered his cup to Brynhildr, "Will you join me, sister?"

Her lips curled into a small smile, and she took the cup. "Alright."

"Good," said Ivar happily. "Ubbe, you can put on an apron and settle down if you want to."

"It will take you both being a great man and woman," noted Hvitserk. "To stake a claim here and defend it. Brynhildr won't be staying long, will she?"

"Ah..." Ivar assumed that meant Hvitserk was counseling them against it. "That does not sound like yourself, dear brother. The Hvitserk I know, he loves to raid. He's a real Viking. What you said, that is not the Viking way. So..."

He faced Sigurd, who did not reply, then turned the rest of the way to their army, "Who among you will follow me?" He forced himself out of his chair, "Who will follow me into battle? For the love of fame and for the love of Odin, our All Father?"

Many of them raised their axes and swords in agreement, shouting, "Odin!"

"Don't do this, Ivar," said Sigurd. "We are all children of Ragnar. We have to stick together."

"Well, Bjorn is leaving," noted Brynhildr.

"What of the rest of us?" he inquired.

"Frankly, dear Sigurd," said Ivar, "I don't care what you say. The truth is, I wouldn't even piss down your throat even if your lungs were on fire."

Brynhildr rolled her eyes as the crowd laughed, "That's not necessary, Ivar. If he doesn't want to come, he doesn't have to."

But Sigurd had taken the insult to heart. "Well, maybe that's because you're not really a man!" he challenged. "Are you, Boneless?"

The crowd murmured, and Bjorn tried to change the subject as Brynhildr motioned for Sigurd to be quiet. "So," said Bjorn, "who is going to stay and farm?"

"I would like to stay," said King Harald from below, standing with his goblet raised. "But, I have other plans."

"Skol," said Hvitserk simply. The others called along.

"As for me," said Halfdan, getting to his feet, "I want to go with Bjorn. I want to see the Mediterranean."

Bjorn leapt over the table, glad, and approached their people. "Then, it seems, the only thing–" He hugged Halfdan, "That really kept the children of Ragnar together was the death of their father."

"Oh, shut up, Bjorn," said Brynhildr sharply. "You're the one who accepted the deal for the settlement without thinking through what Ecbert could have planned for the settlers, as he did before. You're the one who decided we would take this course while you got to go to the Mediterranean. It seems like you only ever came anywhere near the rest of us because of Ragnar."

The crowd 'oohed' as she continued, "Your own ambitions have always mattered most. Do not pin our separation on us as if you haven't always been the first to step away from our father. You chose to go to the Mediterranean though he asked you to come to England with him. Your family matters nothing to you. I've heard how you speak to Torvi. I remember being told how you neglected Þorunn and your first daughter, Siggy."

The men 'oohed' once more, though less intensely, as if afraid they'd anger Bjorn. "She is right!" shouted Ivar. "Poor Bjorn, it is you who doesn't want to keep the army together. It is you who wants to go away to sunny places. Everyone else can follow me and my sister."

"I do not want to follow you, Ivar!" snapped Sigurd, standing and pounding his fist against the table. "You are crazy. Brynhildr will follow you only because she has yet to find her path, but anyone else who follows you is submitting themselves to follow someone with the mind of a child."

"And all you do is play music, Sigurd!" accused Ivar. Brynhildr and Hvitserk shared a look, holding their foreheads annoyed that this had turned into another fight between them, and one that was frankly embarrassing.

"I'm just as much a son of Ragnar as you are," said Sigurd.

"I'm not so sure," said Ivar. "As far as I remember, Ragnar didn't play the oud. And he certainly didn't offer his arse to other men!"

"Ivar!" shouted Brynhildr as the crowd laughed. "Stop!"

"You make me laugh," sneered Sigurd. "Just like you do when you crawl around like a baby. If our mother hadn't forced Brynhildr to carry you around, you'd be even more pathetic than you are now."

"Shut your mouth!" snarled Ivar.

"Enough!" said Bjorn.

Ivar turned to him, "This has nothing to do with you!"

"What's the matter, Ivar?" taunted Sigurd. "You can't take it!"

"Sigurd," begged Brynhildr, "you need to let this go. Come on, let us go and walk around the castle."

"Ivar," pleaded Ubbe in kind, "do not listen to him."

Sigurd wasn't being stopped. "No, I guess it must be hard for you now that your mommy's dead. Knowing she's the only one who ever really loved you."

They all began to shout as Ivar reached for his ax, flinging it at Sigurd without hesitation. "Sigurd!" screamed Brynhildr as the ax lodged in her brother's abdomen. He stumbled and ripped the ax out, holding it and staggering towards Ivar, with every intention of taking him down with him. He raised the ax and Ivar looked afraid for a moment, until Sigurd collapsed, dead.

Brynhildr fell beside him, cupping his face. "Sigurd– Sigurd!" Hvitserk and Ubbe leapt over the table and felt his neck for a pulse, but there was none. She lifted her brother's head, seeing one of his eyes glowed with the image of the serpent before they went glassy and cold. Ivar looked panicked for a moment, then looked down with acceptance, jaw clenched as if he owned up to what he'd done.

She ripped the ax out of Sigurd's hand and made for Ivar, stopped only by the combined forces of her brothers. Ivar had shoved his hands out in front of him to keep her at a distance and both Hvitserk and Ubbe had yanked her back, though the ax managed to swing and cut Ivar's shoulder.

"Brynhildr, no!" snapped Hvitserk as she fought with all her might. She flailed her legs and kicked hard at Ivar's knowing it would cause him pain. Ivar was trying to rip out of his chair, yelling out in pain as she slammed her feet into his knees.

"Bjorn!" shouted Ubbe.

Halfdan ran up with him, the four men finally managing to rip Brynhildr off the stage entirely and away from Ivar. Bjorn wrenched the ax out of her hand as she glared at Ivar, fuming. She wasn't sure if he looked more apologetic or not.

"You are lucky today, Ivar," seethed Brynhildr. "But you may not always be so."

Sigurd's funeral was held in the morning.

It was solemn, without a sea close enough to set him in. They laid him in one of their boats and lit the pyre in the center of a field surrounded by stones. Brynhildr was the last one to caress his face and the one given the honor of lighting the pyre. Ivar sat behind her, watching, a single tear rolling down his eye.

Brynhildr wanted to beat him with her shield until he never cried again. She wanted to cut him all over his body until he begged for mercy, a mercy he did not grant Sigurd. Her brothers had to repeatedly guide her away from Ivar once she started walking towards him with the intention of arguing, of goading him into snarling something that could give her an excuse to hurt him.

In recent years, she hadn't been so close to Sigurd. He cared more about arguing with Ivar than about spending time with her. But when they were children, Sigurd had been her closest companion. The one nearest in age who could run with her and felt excluded from the older pair that was Ubbe and Hvitserk. He used to spend hours with his little sister, the two each other's most loyal companions.

Gradually, he'd become more argumentative, more sure that Ivar was only a burden. Brynhildr started carrying him around and Sigurd resented him more. Brynhildr didn't mind, thinking Ivar could join their fun, but everything stopped being fun when Sigurd and Ivar were in the same room. They both ceased being entertaining.

And yet, she'd cared a great deal for Sigurd. He wanted more out of this life as well, and she wondered if he'd hated that their mother foresaw a greater future for Brynhildr yet nothing for him. Perhaps he would have wanted to come with her when she left, even if he never made it. Perhaps he would have been calm again, once Ivar wasn't around. She lamented that she would never see him again. That Sigurd would not know tranquility.

The only thing that truly stopped her from killing Ivar was the fact that Sigurd had been instigating him for a long, long time. They'd expected this to happen many times, and while it never had, she knew it was a real possibility. If Sigurd was dead, Sigurd was also to blame. She wanted to believe Ivar felt guilty, yet she could not bring herself to coddle him over this. Her absence now weighed on Ivar the way Sigurd's absence weighed on her. In a sense, they all punished each other for their anger.

"I know what you're all thinking," said Ivar once they'd convened in their tent for a silent meal, King Harald and Halfdan with them. "But it is not true. I didn't mean to kill him. He made me kill him." Bjorn scoffed, and Ivar tried to continue, "He taunted me. He made fun of me. What was I supposed to do? What kind of a man taunts and tells lies about his own brother?"

"Do not speak ill of him, he is dead," said Brynhildr coldly. "You did not need to be as cruel to him in return. If the things he said were 'lies' you could have simply remained calm. He had no right to taunt you but you had no real reason to react as you did. You could have beat him into silence instead of killing him."

"And it begs the question of what lies Sigurd told," said Hvitserk.

"Well, you know that as well as I do, Hvitserk," said Ivar.

Ubbe offered, "He said you weren't a real man."

Ivar was silent, drawing a deep breath as if trying to stop himself from getting angry again. "And what would you have done if he had said that to you, Ubbe? What would you have done if you were 'a real man'?" Ubbe drank and chose not to add to the fire. "I swear to the gods and everything that is sacred that I never meant to kill him. Anger overcame me. And I wasn't thinking. I am truly sorry."

"And yet our father counseled you to use your anger wisely," muttered Brynhildr. "Clearly, you weren't thinking."

The rest of them did not speak. Frustrated, Ivar crawled away and left them alone. "You cannot leave him in charge of the Great Army," said Ubbe to Bjorn.

"That is your affair, Ubbe," replied Bjorn. "You're his big brother. You take charge. I told you, this is none of my concern."

Brynhildr gritted her teeth. "It is, you simply aren't accepting responsibility for it."

"I told you I planned to return to the Mediterranean," said Bjorn sharply. He clapped Halfdan on the shoulder, "With Halfdan."

"Will you return first to Kattegat?" asked King Harald.

Bjorn made a face. "I have no intention of doing that. My fate is too urgent."

"Then I will go there," said King Harald. "And I will tell Lagertha about the avenging of your father's death and the defeat of the Saxons. And the great gift of land to our people."

Bjorn pursed his lips. "And tell my mother and Torvi and the children that I think of them. And I will return, if the gods will it."

"Skol," offered King Harald, tapping his cup with Bjorn's. It unnerved Brynhildr how unsuspecting Bjorn was being.

Their camp moved back towards East Anglia for the next several months, and prepared their ships to head to the Mediterranean directly from there. Bjorn's ships set out, as did King Harald's to return to Kattegat. Brynhildr kept close to Hvitserk and Ubbe, while Ivar was given company only by Floki, who'd been building a lone boat for him to find something that seemed to await him.

Brynhildr couldn't bring herself to go to Floki, nor did he seem to be able to come to her. It was as if they both knew that he would not go anywhere if she reminded him that he had raised her, if she showed the traits she'd learned from Helga and made him believe even for one second that a part of her was still alive. Saying goodbye to Floki would hurt both of them more. He'd go and find his destiny, and so, too, would she find hers.

Yet, her brothers knew that she would not forgive herself if she disappeared later on and never came back. Ubbe and Hvitserk dragged her to the docks once Floki's ship was ready, loaded with provisions and a raven in the water. "You were planning to leave without telling us, Floki?" asked Ubbe.

"I wanted to spare you the trouble of trying to stop me," said Floki, eyes flickering towards Brynhildr. "I suppose... let us just say farewell properly instead."

"Where will you go?" asked Brynhildr quietly.

"Wherever the gods will take me," said Floki. "But as long as I live and breathe, you, the children of Ragnar Lothbrok, will always be close to my heart."

He pulled Ubbe into a hug, first, pressing their foreheads together. "Farewell, Floki," said Ubbe. "You are the greatest boat-builder of all time."

"Farewell, Floki," said Hvitserk when he turned his way. "Beloved by the gods."

Floki looked down at Ivar, who spat, "You knock-kneed fool. Stay. we need you just as much as our father needed you, but instead you choose to run away, you coward."

Floki half-smiled, "Stand up and say that to my face." He turned to Brynhildr last, holding the back of her neck. She forced back tears, and he whispered, "Young Princess, always a bright pupil. You know how to make boats, you know how to fight and kill men. You and I both must find out what the gods have in store for us. Do not fear it. If it is their will, we will see each other again."

"I hope it will be," she murmured. He stepped away, heading to his boat without looking back.

She listened to her people chant their support as he rowed through the river out into the open sea. She watched Floki stay committed, staring at what he was leaving without turning his head toward those who waited. She wondered if her people would feel so passionate when she eventually left them, if she even knew exactly when she'd go. She felt this weight over her as she imagined Floki's solitude, his pain. Would she find herself feeling the same when her time came?

Brynhildr lingered alone in the woods for a while, sitting under a tree and staring at the water flowing in the same direction as Floki. She gave herself a moment to really miss him before she finally trudged back to their tent, her brothers meeting once more.

"Speaking for our father," said Ubbe, "I think we should claim and settle the land given to us by Ecbert. The Saxons are in disarray. This is a good opportunity. We have the resources to make a permanent settlement."

"Good," said Hvitserk. He questioned, "Do you agree, Ivar?"

"I don't want to disband the army," he insisted. "In fact, I want to continue the war against the Saxons while we are still in a position of strength. My suggestion is that we go back north, to where we defeated Aelle. We should establish a permanent camp, as you say, but near the coast, from where we can raid wherever we want."

Ubbe pursed his lips. "Our father's dream was that we wouldn't be just raiders. That we would behave in a different way."

"You're not listening, Ubbe," insisted Ivar. "We have to have a stronghold. If we go north, we are closer to our own lands and shipping routes. We can build an impregnable fortress."

Brynhildr narrowed her eyes. "Where? What do you mean?"

"I've heard of a town called York," said Ivar. "It is built on a major river, and it is not far from the sea. And I think we should take it."

"No," said Ubbe with a sigh. "It would seem like a withdrawal."

"Yes, yes, it would. But it is only tactical. Surely you understand, Ubbe, if we establish ourselves in the middle of the country, then we are surrounded by enemies. In York, we are nearer home. Right, Hvitserk? Brynhildr?"

Hvitserk hummed. "I agree with Ivar. We should go north and attack York."

They all turned to Brynhildr, who pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. "I do still want to try it," she murmured. "But I'll only do it if Hvitserk does it."

"It's good," said Ubbe, relenting. No sense in denying that the majority of them wished for this. "We will do it."

They left for York in the morning, taking with them what remained of their army. Everyone was happy to continue raiding, figuring they could claim their lands later on. Something about them still seemed like a trap to Brynhildr; she wondered if men would be waiting there to kill them. They decided they would attack York on the day of one of their saints, as per Ragnar's advice because it meant most people would be in church or drunk.

Her brothers captured two little boys by the river to tell them when this would be happening. In three days' time, they were told it would be Ascension Day, whatever that meant. Brynhildr chose not to take part in the sacrifice Ivar orchestrated after that, killing the two little boys to secure them good fortune. The more she thought of it, the less she wanted to be near her brother in the long run. Perhaps she never should have started trusting him.

On Ascension Day, their army massed outside the gates, bringing ladders with them and beginning to scale the walls. Brynhildr climbed first with Ubbe, reaching the ramparts and getting to the gate so they might open it and let their men pass. Though she had fun rushing around cutting men down and sacking all of York, she couldn't help but feel that this no longer meant much without Sigurd there. Without Floki.

Especially once Ivar began to melt gold over the face of one of those strange men in pointy hats– a bishop, she heard him called– she wondered if she should have gone with Bjorn to the Mediterranean, or if she should have dared to follow King Harald back to Kattegat. She didn't feel safe around Ivar, she didn't think he would be so keen on sharing this now that he thought he was accomplished.

Her fears began to mount as she learned the next day that Ivar had chosen men from the army to be his guard, as if he thought himself a king. Only after threats did they let Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Brynhildr go in to see him, finding he was receiving a tattoo on his back.

"Did you all take a look around?" asked Ivar casually as they approached. "The work on strengthening the defenses is going well."

"Yes, we noticed the defenses," said Brynhildr curtly. "Why do you have bodyguards? Did you put that up because of us? Because you think one of us is going to kill you?"

"Of course not," said Ivar. "I'm a cripple. I need a bodyguard."

"It's not just a bodyguard, Ivar," said Ubbe sharply. "The fact is, you never seem to consult us about anything. It's as if you think you are now the leader of our Great Army."

Ivar motioned for his tattoo artist to stop. "No, I don't. Why would I ever think such a thing?"

"I'm glad to hear you say that," said Ubbe. "Because you are not the leader. Us four are the leaders together, as our father would have wished."

"We are older than you, Ivar," said Hvitserk. "Even Mineri acts older than you. You can't push us aside– it's unacceptable."

"I've pushed no one aside," said Ivar, narrowing his eyes at his sister. "Least of all you."

Brynhildr rolled her eyes. Ivar continued, "What you three have to understand is that it is harder for me to share and to stake my claim. I truly want to be your equal but in order for me to do so, I have to do better than you."

"Then that's not being equal," muttered Brynhildr. "That's being superior."

"No," said Ivar. "I simply mean I have to make you forget that I'm a cripple."

"Gods, Ivar, no one makes such a big deal about you being a cripple other than you. You get bodyguards because you are a cripple but you can still kill men as we do. You trampled men with your chariot when you didn't kill them with your bare hands."

"Precisely," said Hvitserk. "Don't try to make us feel sorry for you. Because, my brother, we never will."

Once Ivar seemed to calm down, Ubbe said, "There's a large Saxon force on its way here." When he noticed Ivar seemed surprised, he quipped, "But I thought you'd already know that." He motioned for his siblings to follow him away.

Brynhildr looked back at Ivar, whose jaw clenched angrily. She hoped that he'd rein in his anger before she left. And yet, she knew she could not worry too much about that if she was truly going to get away. She could have no ties holding her back. Already, she knew she could easily leave Bjorn and Ubbe behind. Ivar, for killing Sigurd. The only one she'd truly miss was Hvitserk.

She wondered for a moment if he might want to go with her, but knew that all the prophecies seemed to point the same way– the journey would have to be alone. Brynhildr wondered how much longer she had left with this fractured family.