They prepared for an attack.

While their men furthered their work on the walls and ramparts attempting to have a proper hold against the Saxons when they arrived, Brynhildr kept up with her training, working with both Ubbe and Hvitserk while Ivar took on some other project he claimed would help them forget he was a cripple. Even just a few months ago, she would have helped him. Back when Sigurd was alive. Now, she let him suffer on his own, if that was his fate.

He was more successful than expected, creating firm steel braces for both his legs, to be used with a strange sort of cane that acted as a third leg for him to drag himself. With great difficulty, he could move his legs, as they were more firmly supported, but simply unable to bend. Whether it hurt him or not, she couldn't understand. He simply appeared proud and immediately got to preparing a sacrifice for the gods, both out of gratitude and in the hopes of good fortune.

Their plan was in place before the Saxons arrived. Ivar had purposely neglected a back wall close to the forest, to make the Saxons believe it a weak point. Particularly narrow hallways were chosen to place blades and sharp branches through the dirt, so they might impale themselves if they tried to run through. Large wooden doors were made to push up the moment the men got into the close quarters, allowing archers to send volleys of arrows down once they were stuck. Brynhildr had arranged for barrels of oil and pitch to be carried up with them, so they might incinerate the men who had fallen into the trap.

She, Ivar, Ubbe, and Hvitserk held watch atop the clock tower to wait for their arrival, and would rush down for the battle once it was time. The men began to sneak in through back wall, hopping over as silently as possible, wishing to flood their city in the early hours of the morning when they expected no one would be awake. A layer of fog shielded them, amplified by smoky torches they left behind to make the city seem somewhat abandoned, if not only sleepy.

"Is that Aethelwulf?" asked Brynhildr, pointing down at a man wearing red beneath his armor. "Ecbert's son?"

"Yes," confirmed Ivar. "And look–" He motioned to where King Aethelwulf was helping two boys climb with him. "He's brought his own sons, like lambs to the slaughter."

Brynhildr noticed Aethelred first, much taller than when she'd seen him two years ago. She had to admit, he looked more handsome now, like an actual warrior should. Yet, she still thought of preventing him from becoming king as a punishment for what his grandfather had done to her father. She had to convince herself that no attachments could be made– not with Christians, especially not with Aethelings. She missed the days when she was younger and didn't find people good-looking. Normally, it did not distract her, but Aethelred remained someone who had made an impression in her mind, in one way or another.

"We will kill the rest of Ecbert's bloodline today," said Brynhildr, convincing herself of what she would do and following Ubbe and Hvitserk down. They scurried quickly as the Saxons began to divide their forces, waiting on the other ends of the narrow hallways with blades. If anyone made it through, they'd meet their men with shields, swords, and axes. The archers and those strong enough to lift multiple planks and barrows repeatedly would wait on the roofs.

Though the dust and smoke made it hard to see, Brynhildr leapt into battle alongside Ubbe and Hvitserk, wondering on what end King Aethelwulf and his sons would appear. She imagined this must be each of his sons' first battles, and looked forward to killing them both swiftly.

"Mineri, there!" yelled Hvitserk.

She saw the flash of red and began to pursue, cutting down the men who got in their way– they seemed to know what she wanted. King Aethelwulf was shielding the smaller boy, Alfred, while Aethelred ran behind him. For a moment, King Aethelwulf looked over his shoulder and seemed to recognize her. Seemed to realize he never should have assumed she was weak.

Brynhildr had to screech to a halt when Ivar's chariot zoomed past the street before her. Ivar was supposed to stay in the tower and call for greater defenses where needed, not swoop in here where he would risk their warriors' safety. "Ivar!" she shouted angrily. He was too far to hear.

She had lost sight of King Aethelwulf, rain now beginning to pelt over their heads. She chose instead to follow after Ivar, but it seemed the Saxons had had the same idea. She saw his chariot hit a dip just as a man swung a spear at him, the combined force throwing him off the chariot. He managed to catch the man who had hit him, beating his ax into his face, but Brynhildr didn't make it to the courtyard before she saw a large force of Saxons had arrived to face Ivar alone.

She motioned to the few Vikings around her to join her and slink towards them on the other end, hidden while they looked at Ivar. He'd crawled to his broken chariot and begun to laugh, face bathed red. He screamed in defiance as the Saxons began to close in, their archers pointing at least twenty arrows at them. Brynhildr motioned her men to stay still, to wait her signal. She had to get to Ivar while they entertained the Saxons long enough for their fighters on the other streets to come and find them.

One arrow was fired at Ivar, and he flung his ax at the man who'd thrown it. "Don't you know who I am?" he snarled at them. "You can't kill me! Don't you know who I am? I am Ivar, the Boneless. I am Ivar, the Boneless. You can't kill me!"

For whatever reason, be it his rage or the fact he was caked in blood, the men did not approach and no further arrows were fired. Brynhildr pulled the men out, prompting Ubbe, who'd been in the street across, to rush out with his own fighters. A protective line was formed in front of Ivar, and she saw that King Aethelwulf had come back to join the fight, his son Prince Aethelred wounded with an arrow.

Brynhildr made for them again, using her ax to cut past the men. There was one man in particular who fought very well, sword shining silver in the dim light. He called out, "Fight for your King! Fight for your God!"

She slid past him, the ground slippery as the mud began to gather. King Aethelwulf was staggering away through the open gates, both of his sons with him. Just a bit closer, only a bit. "RETREAT!" called one of the Saxons, forcing Brynhildr to duck to the side as they stampeded past her, some on horses and the majority fleeing on foot.

King Aethelwulf dared to look back again, and she raised her ax and shouted in warning, "I am the Killer of Kings, and so I shall be Killer of Princes!" A horse swept past him, and he quickly loaded his sons on, not daring to look back at her.

She was exhausted as they ate, scarfing down every last bit of meat that'd been placed on her plate. Ivar drank happily, certainly pleased with himself. "We did well, my siblings," said Ubbe proudly.

"We?" questioned Ivar.

"Don't start," muttered Brynhildr, spitting a small bone at him.

"Yet, it was all my strategy," said Ivar, flicking the bone away from his cheek.

"I was the one that told you about lighting them on fire," she retorted. "Besides, you did not adhere to the plan. You rushed out and broke your chariot."

"We all did very well," Hvitserk tried to say. "Why... why do you argue, huh?"

"I'm not arguing," said Ivar innocently.

"Good," said Ubbe as Brynhildr rolled her eyes. "The most important thing is what we do next."

"And isn't that obvious, Ubbe?" said Ivar.

"Yes," he agreed. "We have defeated the Saxons. Let's make good our claim to the land. Let's all make peace."

Ivar huffed, "I have no interest in peace. 'Peace' is a dirty word."

"More of our people can cross the water," insisted Ubbe. "We can all farm, huh? Now, it is time to negotiate."

"And that is the wrong advice, as always, Ubbe," countered Ivar.

Hvitserk sighed, "So, Ivar, what do you suggest, hmm?"

"The Saxons lost the battle," said Ivar. "But they have not yet lost the war. I would beware of trying to negotiate with them."

"My only warning here is that I did not trust King Ecbert to begin with," said Brynhildr. "I agree with Ivar only to say that we have to keep beating them back until they are truly beaten."

Hvitserk and Ubbe shared a look, as if not entirely in agreement.

_

She learned the next morning that they had snuck out. Made the decision on her own to go to King Aethelwulf's camp to speak about the land. Brynhildr had been upset at first, hating that she wasn't included. Then, when they came back bruised and beaten, she was glad they hadn't thought of taking her with them.

"You are both idiots," she said, cleaning their wounds after Ivar humiliated them in the cathedral, trying to force them into accepting him as leader of the Great Army while they wallowed in their anger and their injuries. Ubbe decided that he and Hvitserk would be returning to Kattegat with their forces, leaving Ivar to lead the army apparently with Brynhildr at his side, the one genuine offer he still seemed capable of making.

"Don't need to be reminded," muttered Ubbe, flinching as she spread an herbal paste over his bruised eye. "Will you come with us to Kattegat?"

"No," said Brynhildr. "You mentioned this was done to you by that man we saw fighting yesterday... that one who was an incredible warrior. You said he's a bishop. I want to kill him for doing this. I want to snuff him out so he might never hold a sword again. I still want to fight. I still want to continue into the unknown, even if it's at Ivar's side. Going back to Kattegat offers only the promise that I will kill Lagertha, yet both of you would stop me from it. I must go back in my own time. Once I am sure it is ripe."

Hvitserk sighed. "We are sorry we did not even offer to take you to make the deal."

"I wouldn't have gone," admitted Brynhildr. "Not if I'd given it a second more of thought. This was likely to happen– you are lucky you only had to leave like dogs with your tails between your legs, rather than as dead men. If I'd gone to that camp, I don't know what they would have done to me. I don't think a beating would have sufficed."

She started to clean Hvitserk's face. "You will not be persuaded to stay, then?"

They both shook her heads, and she sighed to herself. "Then I will be left with only Ivar for company. He is lucky we share the same ideas about how to proceed, otherwise I would have already killed him."

By week's end, their three ships of men were ready to sail back to Kattegat. The majority of the men stayed on land behind Ivar and Brynhildr, the older of which called out, "Look at you! Trying to sneak away to avoid your shame! Surely you must be embarrassed that nobody else is with you! Now, why is that? I can't understand it, can you?"

Brynhildr stared ahead at Ubbe and Hvitserk, who tried hard not to look their way. "Ubbe!" yelled Ivar, taunting, "know that nobody is with you! Everyone is with me and with our sister."

Their men cheered, sounding hard over the water in support of Ivar and Brynhildr. Ubbe ignored them, calling for their ships to sail out. Then, out of nowhere, Brynhildr saw Hvitserk climb back onto the rocks, walking back in their direction. Brynhildr began to smile as he stood at her side, but her smile faltered when she saw Ubbe's face, already bloody and swollen yet now also heartbroken. She hoped she would see him again, even if they took these different paths.

They got back to fixing up the damage done on York, holding it and letting the Saxons notice that less men returned from the river than those who had left. With their trip from the river, they brought back baskets filled with fish and filled up their stocks to hole in there until they were ready for another battle. After all, they didn't need to go anywhere if they didn't have to.

It was evident fairly soon that the Saxons wanted to try and starve them out. Their scouts reported movements blocking the roads and rivers, archers hiding in the forest to keep their hunters out. Two hunting groups had already been attacked trying to fetch them some deer.

They were lucky they'd been stocking up from the surrounding areas since they first arrived, otherwise Brynhildr was sure they would have been in terrible trouble. She got them started on rations with both food and water, thinking that if worse came to worst, they would eat their own horses.

"So," said Hvitserk at a quiet and abysmal dinner, much silence hanging without Ubbe, "the hunting party did not return today. We'll be out of food soon."

"That is their aim," muttered Brynhildr, the two glaring at Ivar, who kept eating happily. "Take away our food, bring in sickness. Force us to die in here."

"The Saxons are in their own country," added Hvitserk. "They can be reinforced and grow stronger, while every day we just grow weaker."

Ivar snapped, "What are you two really saying? That I was wrong not to negotiate with the Saxons, and that Ubbe was right?"

"No one is saying that," said Brynhildr. "Not everything is about you, Ivar. We're trying to have a conversation about what is best for our people. Besides, Hvitserk is here, not with Ubbe."

"Is that so?" asked Ivar. "Hvitserk, do you regret not going with Ubbe?"

"Ubbe treated me like his little faithful dog," said Hvitserk. "I am no one's dog, Ivar."

With a malicious little smirk, Ivar whispered, "Woof, woof."

"I've had enough of this," said Brynhildr, getting out of her seat. "I'll be going for a walk, if you care to join me, Hvitserk. Perhaps we might devise a plan where both parties are serious about enacting it."

Ivar rolled his eyes as she left, followed closely by Hvitserk. He called louder, "Woof, woof!" Hvitserk clicked his tongue angrily at the insinuation that now, he was turning into Brynhildr's little dog.

"I could try to sneak into the forest," said Brynhildr as they walked. "Alone, no other hunters. I was always good at getting squirrels, rabbits, and birds without much of a sound. Without ripping away at their precious flesh."

"It is too risky," said Hvitserk, climbing with her to the ramparts. "If the Saxons find you, they will do worse than to beat you. You've only just turned seventeen. We've spent all those years of your life protecting you from cruelty because we knew life would be different for you as a woman. I won't have you stepping out of here knowing what could happen if you do." He chose a spot to lean on and sighed. "I wish Ivar would tell us what he's planning."

"We can only assume," said Brynhildr, leaning beside him. "If the Saxons want to starve us out, we might need to pretend it is working. With the rations, we have at most a week left. But we've already gone a few days and it only takes about a week for us to starve without fresh water or good food. If people really are sick, he might use that as our advantage. Have them believe their plan is working. Have them lower their guard and come to check on us closer than from the woods."

She nodded to where she could see one knight pacing between the trees, staring up at them. "Did you mean it, when you spoke of marrying me to Aethelred?" asked Brynhildr.

"Only a suggestion," murmured Hvitserk. "Not because I wanted it to happen or because you would want it. It would have given us something to grasp."

Brynhildr thought of it. She didn't imagine she'd hate being married to someone like Aethelred, who had at least somewhat appealed to her preferences and simultaneously intrigued her. There was no telling if he would ever feel the same, but she could defend herself if he tried to hurt her for it. If he did somehow think her both pretty and brave– which she knew she was– then she thought she might enjoy it. Perhaps they could open this land to her people.

And yet, she knew it was not her destiny. Otherwise, her mother or the Seer might've pointed her to a place Vikings had gone to and continued to go to. "We could try to take him hostage," offered Brynhildr, so as to not make Hvitserk aware that she had, nor or ever, held any romantic interest in Aethelred. Gods, she was nearly eighteen and yet it was still stupid to think of. "Wield him like a puppet, though I will not marry him. He is handsome and he is my age, but my destiny does not lie in finding a husband here. Mother said I would not find love in these lands."

He snorted. "You still believe everything Mother said, Mineri?"

"I have no reason not to believe what my fate will be," she murmured. "I accept it as truth and so I will it to be. Because there has to be more than this for me, Hvitserk. Raiding suffices me until a path opens but in the long-term, it will never be enough."

"I envy you, in a way," he admitted. "For knowing your fate." He looked up at the sky. "Lord Odin, did I make the right choice? Give me a sign. Help me. What is my fate?"

An arrow was shot between their heads, lodging into the target behind them. Brynhildr and Hvitserk dropped down, shared a look, and burst out laughing.

Ivar's plan began to take root the next day, having them light every fire pit to bring up smoke, so it would seem as if they were beginning to burn the bodies of those who were dying. He sent a small party of men in the middle of the night through the sewers to sneak to their ships and move them out of sight, a bit further down the river. Most of the men came back, and those who didn't had killed at least one Saxon before they, too, succumbed.

At the end of the week, they followed Ivar down into the sewers, where he planned to launch his attack. They'd hold their rations there and lie in wait until the Saxons came to investigate. They all hoped they would come soon because of the smoke they'd seen, otherwise they'd have to resort to eating the horses or the rats. Not the worst thing but something that might place them aboveground when they came.

Finally, they arrived. Their men began to move their ladders to the entrances of the sewers, and they were quiet as they felt for the Saxons marching around aboveground, finding the city was seemingly deserted. The rats had gone to eat the scraps left behind, their home in the sewers now tainted.

"We must call the faithful to the Cathedral," she heard King Aethelwulf saying overhead. "To celebrate High Mass and the delivery of York from the pagans!" Their men cheered, and someone began to toll the bells, perhaps to signal their victory.

As soon as Ivar gave the signal, they began to climb out of the sewers, rushing in every visible direction. Hvitserk and Brynhildr gave Ivar a boat, the men that emerged before him carrying him out the rest of the way before they all started to cut down the Saxons around them, all rushing to protect their King and the Princes.

Brynhildr split from her brothers, leading her group down a different path, where the Saxons had tried to rush out the gates they had already closed, thinking they were safe. They cut down all the men trapped there, then she rounded back around the streets to catch those trying to make a way out for their army. She reached Hvitserk once more, finding him in battle close to where Aethelwulf and the Princes were, one of their Vikings nearly killing young Prince Alfred before he stabbed him in the side with his sword.

Ivar had focused his men on Bishop Heahmund, the only man who'd managed to mount a horse. They cornered him, allowing Brynhildr and Hvitserk to focus their energy on the heirs to the throne. Brynhildr caught up to Aethelred, who seemed dead-set on facing her. He turned his sword in her direction and she caught it with ease.

"Didn't think you knew how to fight," he panted as he slammed his blade back against hers, metal clanging and echoing in her ears.

"You didn't know a lot of things about me," said Brynhildr. He was a good fighter, she had to give him that. Still, not as strong as the men she was used to facing. She held back from killing him, if only for a conversation. If only to indulge her curiosities. "I am Ragnar's daughter, of course I am also a warrior."

"And yet you will not be Queen of your people," he said, pushing himself close to her as he tried to cut her neck. She twisted her sword sideways, keeping him back. "Why is that?"

"Have you seen how many brothers I have?" she inquired. "My fate lies elsewhere." She kicked at his leg, turning around to use her shield and slam him to the ground.

He managed to scramble up, narrowly avoiding a stab she sent right into the mud. "If you were not a pagan, I'd like to hear more about that."

"If you were not a Christian, I would not have to kill you," she said, finally tucking her blade against his and twisting suddenly, disarming him completely.

"Mineri!" shouted Hvitserk behind her.

She had to abandon Aethelred when she saw Aethelwulf barreling towards her. She raised her sword to meet his, finding he pressed with significantly more force than his son. More force even than the other Saxons she fought. He backed her away from him and she laughed in his face, taunting him as she fought back just as hard, hoping to bring him fear. She felt Hvitserk nearing, stopping the King's men from coming to his aid. Already, several of them had ushered Prince Aethelred and Prince Alfred to safety.

"Afraid of what the pagans will do to your good little Christian boys?" said Brynhildr, baring her teeth as she swung her blade so close to his face, he staggered back in anticipation of a blow that didn't arrive. "Afraid of what the children of Ragnar would do to your whole bloodline? I don't even need my brothers to help me deal with all of you."

"You are a demon," shouted Aethelwulf, lumbering back towards her. She ducked and nearly made him fall on his face. "A demon pagan infecting this land of York! A pagan nightmare!"

"The Demon of York," she said, cutting over his arm as he failed to stab her leg. "The Pagan Nightmare. I like it." She elbowed him in the face, then slammed the hilt of her sword against his forehead.

"SIRE!" The knights pushed their way forward in a thick blockade, leaving Brynhildr to step back and roll her eyes, the barricade the only reason she could not get to Aethelwulf. He knew he was defeated, and she watched him run away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Ivar took Bishop Heahmund captive, the most valuable hostage they could have. Most of the Saxon army had been defeated, including several bearing Northumbrian banners. Within days, scouts confirmed that the Saxon army had abandoned their camp and left, having no fight left in them.

Brynhildr wasn't sure why, exactly, Ivar preferred to have Heahmund captive than simply kill him. She still wished to drive her sword into him for having beat Ubbe and Hvitserk. Ivar forbade it, and she made a silent promise to herself that one day she would see it done. If she could not kill Ivar, she'd kill Bishop Heahmund.

This was where they abandoned their sights for York entirely. Hvitserk worried that Ubbe might kill Lagertha or have her crown him king. He wished to return to Kattegat and crown Ivar before Bjorn came back. That way, Brynhildr could have the freedom to go with the assurance that Lagertha was dead and their mother was avenged.

The more Brynhildr thought of it, the more she felt that her path was finally clearing. She felt no need to remain, she felt the tug drawing her in this same direction, the only one that led her towards killing Lagertha, the one thing she knew she had to do before she could turn her back on her family.

For a moment, as they rode to their ships, she thought of Aethelred. She wondered what kind of king he would be. If they'd ever see each other again. She wished she hadn't been so curious, about as much as she wished that he had been born a Viking, so she might've seen a different side of him. Known him without circumstance getting in the way. She wondered if that was the last time she'd be curious over a boy, if she'd ever feel the same intrigued tug as she had with him.

She bade Aethelred farewell in her head, a boy who never knew she somewhat fancied him. She even said goodbye to the rats that lingered, eating happily in the sewers once more, and feasting in celebration of Ragnar's name.