They sailed back when ready for battle.

Their army made camp in the same place as before, singing solemnly in anticipation of what would happen. Brynhildr had what she needed to start a fire in the forest, she even had torches lit in the camp for them to carry some fire with them on the way.

They marched out, army buffed up with the presence of the Frankish soldiers. Lagertha was with her people now, with no sneak attack about to come from the forest. She had them strike first, archers sending a volley at them. With their shields, their side held strong, having their archers rain a volley back.

Brynhildr led their men into the forest alone, allowing Hvitserk to remain on the field. He'd told her of a rumor he heard after Bjorn's coming, something about how he'd abandoned Torvi and married Princess Snæfrid, daughter of the Sámi King Svase. It didn't surprise her much, yet she did find it strange knowing that apparently, Torvi now seemed close to Ubbe. She still remembered when Torvi first came, a grown woman while Ubbe was still mostly a boy. It motivated her further to kill the Sámi, if only to punish Bjorn for how he mistreated his wives.

This time, they seemed to have moved into the forest before the Sámi could properly get into position. Brynhildr had their men carrying torches, and began to have their archers light arrows and burn the brush where they might be hiding with their darts, then ordered their fighters forward to those hiding within the trees.

Once she saw they had it handled, the Sámi unexpectedly overwhelmed, she pulled back a small fraction of men to fight on the field, emerging through the forest and zipping right through the center of the battlefield. Up in the hill, Ivar had their reserve men and their archers waiting to see clear targets. Ivar stumbled between them, sending them ahead to aid those already occupying Lagertha's men. She heard Bjorn shout for archers, firing a massive volley up to these men before they could fully reach their comrades. She heard Ivar let out a defiant yell, spreading his arms and accepting the volley. Not a single arrow touched him.

She saw Hvitserk and Ubbe fighting for a moment before they both hesitated and chose to be distracted with other warriors rather than hurt each other. She watched King Harald cut open Halfdan's throat then cradle his brother in his arms. She noticed Bishop Heahmund now fought with a blue shield, fighting alongside Lagertha and Bjorn. Good, another reason to kill him. She thought of finding him as soon as her battle with her mother's killer was done. As she stepped closer to where she saw Lagertha's braid whipping in the wind, she crossed over the dead body of Guthrum. He was the only one on their side that she mourned, if only for a moment.

No one could hold her back as she made a beeline for Lagertha. She cut down men as if they were birds flying past her. Her eyes had met their target, and she saw Lagertha falter in the moment she drove a sword through Astrid for attacking her, hugging her and gently laying her down in the earth.

Lagertha was still distracted as Brynhildr reached her, slamming her shield over her head and tossing her off of Astrid's dead body, which she kissed and cradled. Ivar hadn't even yet called the Franks in, and the battlefield was all theirs to decide if the Seer's prophecy– if Aslaug's prophecy– would hold.

She struggled to get to her feet, weak from loss and not yet filled with rage from it. Meanwhile, Brynhildr's every fiber was channeling her hope and anger. This would be the end, this would be her vengeance, Lagertha would die and Brynhildr could finally leave.

"You killed my mother," spat Brynhildr, slamming the shield back onto Lagertha's shoulder. "I hope you will get to see Ragnar today in Valhalla to tell him that his daughter defeated you. That his daughter, named for a shield-maiden and Valkyrie, was stronger than you, Lagertha."

Though Lagertha managed to grab at her sword, Brynhildr was ready, pressing hard with her own and giving her barely any room to get back up. Lagertha threw her own shield aside and Brynhildr did the same, locking the two of them in a fight with swords only. It shouldn't have mattered that Lagertha was an old woman, as her strength should have stood, but Brynhildr felt a meager resistance. Lagertha had given up. The gods had given up on her. Brynhildr had every advantage– she was mightier, she had more reason to beat her. The gods wanted her to do it.

She finally drove her sword into Lagertha's leg while still tucking her hilt against Lagertha's blade to keep her from cutting her. As Lagertha yelled out in pain, Brynhildr used her free hand to reach for her ax, and slammed it right into Lagertha's skull.

Brynhildr shouted in triumph as Lagertha fell, the ax perfectly sunken into her forehead. Taking her weapons and shield, Brynhildr rushed next for Bishop Heahmund, who was fighting off a group of their men alone. Joining them, she rushed in-between, and they cleared a space for her to slam him back with both the shield and ax.

Bishop Heahmund probably hadn't expected for her to be fighting against him. She bared her teeth at him and began beating back at him, over and over while he failed to cut her. "Accept my sword as your end," shouted Brynhildr, pushing him further and further into the people behind him. "Let me send you to your God, so we may both be free."

One of the men with her helped to hit him with his shield, and Brynhildr swiped the ax across his face, cutting over one of his eyes. As he recoiled, she slammed the shield into his throat, and as he choked, delivered one more blow with the ax until his hand had been cut clean off, his magical little sword with it. She wasted no time in taking it and stabbing it through his heart.

"May you rest in peace," she said simply, kneeling down to close his eyes while her warriors searched for other targets. Out of respect for his skill, she performed the sign of the cross over his forehead. A weight was lifted from her– she felt she could breathe again. This was the end.

She heard Bjorn far ahead calling for a retreat, and turned to see that Ivar was finally sending down the Franks. Bjorn knew his army was beaten, and she yelled excitedly, raising Bishop Heahmund's glowing sword and calling for her men to celebrate, too, now that they'd won.

She'd killed Kings and now killed a Queen. Brynhildr knew that the time to go was now.

_

They cleared up their camp and made for Kattegat.

"I cannot return fully," said Brynhildr honestly as she rode between Hvitserk and Ivar. "Before we reach Kattegat, I will have to take another road."

"You finally did it, didn't you?" said Hvitserk. "You have killed Lagertha. Even Bishop Heahmund. Your work here... you feel it is done."

"I know it is done. I have fulfilled my role in Norway and must find the one that lies beyond this land." She offered her hand. "Could I persuade you to come with me?"

Hvitserk furrowed his brows, glancing over at Ivar. "Mother said you had to leave us behind. She said you'd go to a land the Vikings would never touch."

"I can still ask for a companion," she said. "Perhaps we will make it, perhaps we won't. You went to the unknown with Bjorn when he sailed for the Mediterranean. Will you take a chance with me?"

He thought of it, but ultimately shook his head. "I'm sorry, sister. I cannot. I don't think that is what the gods have in store for me. Otherwise... I believe you and I would already be gone. I believe I would feel in my bones that I must leave. But I want to go back to Kattegat."

Brynhildr turned to Ivar, though she knew what his answer would be. "And you? You will be happy as King?"

"Of course," said Ivar. "I have earned that throne."

"Make good use of it," she counseled. "Do not lose it as our father did. Hold it well, and you will be known everywhere in the world. Perhaps, though Vikings will never touch the land I will go to, your name will reach it."

He smirked, perhaps liking this idea. "Will you forget us, little sister?"

"No," promised Brynhildr. "I must go, but I will never forget you. I learned much from you. I am glad I followed you both here."

"Bjorn will come looking for you," noted Hvitserk. "When he learns you killed his mother."

"He will not find me," said Brynhildr. "I will be long gone. He knows he could not kill me for it."

Ivar muttered, "Then you are a coward for running."

"I am not running." She noticed a glimmer in his eyes. "Ivar, your eyes are more blue today. Be careful. Do not mourn me. Do not forget me, either. Be wise, do what Father advised you to. You are the strongest of us, Ivar. But strength is not all that makes a king. You must be wise and you must inspire your people. You have the makings of a great man, if you try for it. Sometimes, it is alright to be a coward. As long as you never stop fighting."

Hvitserk reached over to her horse, holding her arm and smiling. "Do not stop fighting, either. In that land, where you will change history, make sure they know you are Ragnar Lothbrok's daughter." He glanced past her, to a spot between the trees. "There is a woman there, on a horse."

Brynhildr turned, and saw atop a white mare a beautiful woman with golden hair, reaching a hand out. "Idun," she said, believing this to be true. "The goddess herself has come to take me. To rejuvenate me in a new world. It is time."

She stopped, as did her brothers. Leaning over, she hugged Hvitserk, letting him place a kiss on her cheek. Then, she did the same with Ivar, who made a face as if to show he wasn't sad she was going. "Goodbye, my dear brothers," said Brynhildr. "I will hold you close to my heart."

"Not too close," noted Ivar. "We don't want you to come back."

Even with that last quip, she managed a grin. "I wouldn't want to come back to King Ivar. Gods, he will be insufferable."

She turned her horse away from their group, none following her as she made for the woman on the white mare, who had begun to ride away, beckoning her deeper into the forest. They were headed in the direction of the sea, though Brynhildr knew a cliff came ahead.

She rode for what felt like ages, not able to catch up to the woman even when she made her horse go faster. As they neared the cliff, the golden-haired woman finally came to a halt, and turned to speak, "Where do you wish to go?"

"To wherever the gods will me," said Brynhildr, slowing her horse to a stop. She dismounted, staring up at the woman. "To wherever my fate leads."

"You have a role to play," said the woman. "The gods know this. All the gods. Even those you do not know yet. Tell me, child, who are you?"

"I am Brynhildr," she said. "Daughter of King Ragnar Lothbrok and Queen Aslaug Sigurdsdottir. I am sister to Bjorn Ironside, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye, and the new King of Kattegat, Ivar the Boneless."

She regarded her statement. "Kneel, Brynhildr."

She did so, unsheathing the sword she now carried– the one she'd taken from Bishop Heahmund– and laying it over her legs. The woman stepped off her horse and reached out to touch her head. "Eat," she said, her other hand extending to her a golden apple. "You must trust that you will get to where you need to be."

Brynhildr took the apple in her hands, and slowly bit in. As she chewed, her jaw began to ache, and movement became more difficult. She forced another bite, slumping forward against the woman's legs. A buzzing filled her ears, and for a moment, she heard the woman whisper in her mother's voice, "Let us go, little one."

She saw nothing. Felt nothing. Her body was not her body. Her soul was trapped. She could not open her eyes even when she started to sense a strange swaying, as if she were a child once more being rocked to sleep.

The rumble that echoed in her head faded. She heard a woman singing, but the words were not those she could understand. As she finally found in herself the strength to sit up, the rocking became more fierce, and she nearly threw up over the side of the bed she'd been placed in. She was in a strange wooden room filled with young women like herself. She was the only one wearing armor, the rest in a variety of dresses in rags. All of them looked dirty, as if they hadn't washed in days or even weeks. They looked different, some with darker or lighter skin, some very small and others even larger than Vikings had ever been, a few with perfectly silky hair and others with curls that never seemed to end. She was one of many that seemed to have been plucked up from all over the world. How did that make sense?

"You are awake." She turned to the golden-haired woman, much less beautiful now. Her eyes were tired, deep lines etched beneath as if she hadn't slept. Brynhildr was surprised she could understand her, given the other women were all speaking completely different tongues.

"I am awake," said Brynhildr carefully. "Where are we?"

"Picked up by slavers," she muttered, picking at her nails. "Ship's taking us somewhere they called... Astapor. I don't know what it means. I don't know what the others are saying."

Brynhildr was confused. "You are not a goddess, then?"

She snorted. "A goddess? No. I found you on a cliff, asleep. My husband and I carried you to our home by the sea. Men came, they took us all. I don't know if my husband is alive. They kept you because of your sword."

Brynhildr traced her palm over the hilt, now tucked back into its holster. "Astapor. I don't think I had ever heard of that place before."

"Nor I," she agreed. "My name is Alva." She reached out quickly and pressed her finger over Brynhildr's lips before she could speak. "Do not tell them your real name. If they find out who you really are... perhaps they will hurt you."

She thought for a moment, then decided, "Call me Mineri. They won't know what that means."

Alva made a face. "I do not, either." She began to laugh. "This ship, it is bigger than anything I have ever seen Vikings make. I do not understand it. How were we found?"

"I think that may be my fault," said Brynhildr. "You appeared to me as the goddess Idun. She was guiding me to a new land. I think because you found me first, you were carried along."

"Then the gods must have it in store for the both of us," said Alva. "Or they would not have let me find you."

Brynhildr found it difficult to keep track of how long they were at sea. She could feel the massive ship– surely, Floki would have fainted if he saw this– bobbing hard in the water. Men who spoke in strange tongues came to give them food. She'd learned a few words from them, mostly how to ask for more water, more food, a chance to use the bucket they called their privy. Most of the time, her requests were denied. Still, she was managing to communicate it.

It felt like ages later that the ship finally stopped. Bald men in grey armor wielding spears came to rip them out of their bunk, forcing them out of the ship and onto the bright deck. Brynhildr felt her eyes burn from not having seen the sun in so long. The sight that greeted her was magnificent. A strange golden statue rose ahead over what appeared to be a triangle building. It looked like a person with wings. Someone called it a 'harpy' and the pointy buildings 'pyramids.'

She and Alva kept close together as they were shuffled into what appeared to be the main plaza of Astapor, made of white stone that reflected the sun and made her feel even hotter beneath her clothes– gods, she hadn't taken her armor off in months, surely. Brynhildr turned to look behind her, the ship as magnificent as she expected. It was surely twenty times bigger than anything Floki had ever built, though the design was not so different. She wondered just how many people could fit, if all those women with her had been crammed into a small room. Surely, horses could be transported in these.

People in colorful cloaks stood below a platform the women were lined up on. The grey-armored man holding Brynhildr made her hold out her sword so it could be seen, and this apparently intrigued a great deal of their prospective buyers, who kept pointing and asking 'how much.' At least, that was what it sounded like, if one could judge in the way they flicked their fingers together.

"To Yunkai," she heard one say just before grabbing Alva. Alva tried to fight, tried to hold onto Brynhildr, but failed.

"I will find you again!" promised Brynhildr as she was dragged off. "I will find you, I will free you!"

Alva offered her a small smile. "You do not need to, my child. I've done what I could, and now I must go. Your heart remains pure, and I know you were the right choice for this." As she looked over her shoulder, pulled by the guard, her face changed, looking like Idun once more. As Brynhildr blinked, suddenly, the guard and woman were no longer there.

Then, a second guard— a real one— came for her, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her towards a man with curly hair, who nodded and beckoned her over. He said something about 'bring' and 'Meereen,' whatever that meant. Three guards seized her and bound her hands and feet before carrying her to a different carriage, binding her to the seat with ropes and taking her sword.

The ride to this place, Meereen, was even worse than having taken the ship. There were holes in the doors of the carriage that let in the sand and heat, and the smell of the desert didn't seem to make it better. She was hungry and thirsty but was only given sustenance in the night when they stopped to rest. Some other fighters seemed to have been chosen– all the men brought along equally restrained were bulkier and had holsters for their weapons.

They were marched on foot after a certain point, once more pyramids were visible. Brynhildr saw large brick walls of different colors, so high she almost couldn't see the tops of the pyramids after a few more steps. There was another massive statue of a harpy, only this one was bronze. They passed beneath it as they entered the gates, the streets so twisted, she wondered if she and her brothers would've managed what they did in York in a place like this.

Their group was stopped a few steps into the city, the slavers exchanging words with other men. She heard 'Daznak' mentioned several times. The language here was slightly different from the one in Astapor, but the words were close enough that she could assume what they were still talking about– something told her that there was going to be a fight involved. She'd heard that word used on the ship, when the women started to argue and others had to tell them not to.

Finally, they began to walk again, once some sort of agreement was made. The group was split, some led down one winding street and some down another. She walked with three men, all taller than her, who spoke words similar to those used by the slavers. She wondered if they were being enslaved by their own people or if they were somehow enemies. Perhaps her gods meant to test her with this, to have her fight these people, or even free them.

They reached a large stone structure rising high in what must have looked like a circle above. Two giant statues of men locked in combat marked the entrance, and underneath them were strange runes, separated enough and either single lines or pairs of words that could have been names or very simple quotes. As they went inside, they found a circular brick arena with descending tiers that some people were sitting on– it was what she imagined to be perfect for many people to see one person speak without being blocked by a crowd. These stone benches were all colors of the rainbow, and seemed to mark where people could sit. Those in the purple bench looked significantly poorer than those on the red bench.

In the center of the pit was a large circle of sand. A group was already locked in combat, several shirtless men using a variety of weapons and fighting freely against each other. Those in the red and orange benches were passing each other heavy bags filled with coins they flicked at one another. Brynhildr assumed she would fight and people would bet if she would win or not. Someone would get the money, though she doubted it would be her. She supposed that being underestimated might not help so much if she did see a penny from it.

Of the men fighting inside, one seemed the clear winner. He was about her age, lithe and smooth-skinned with blue and purple hair that was tied back in a braid. It was so strange to see in a person. The closer they got, the more she could see of him. He was very handsome, though his looks did nothing for him here. He was a magnificent fighter, wielding a strange curved blade and cutting the men to ribbons as if they were nothing. He emerged victorious, and held the weapon up yelling in triumph. He walked over to where their group was about to enter, his blue eyes immediately scanning over her. He had large, curving nose, and she was about as intrigued by his strangeness as she'd been with Aethelred.

The slaver said something harshly to him, and he simply smirked in what appeared to be defiance. He made several hand gestures as he talked back. The man slapped him hard and then wagged a finger in his face before ushering him out of the pit and pushing Brynhildr and the three men with her inside in his stead.

One of the other slavers came forth with a large knapsack, dropping in front of them the weapons that had been taken. Brynhildr made a beeline for her sword, holding it up as the other men grabbed their weapons– a spear, an ax, and a warhammer. The slaver's hand dropped, as if a signal to begin fighting. The three men certainly knew what it meant, and lunged at each other and Brynhildr.

It was pitiful how bad they fought. Brynhildr made quick work of the man who came at her with the ax, dodging even without her shield and cutting through the back of his legs before she swept around and sliced off most of his head. As he fell, she went to the weaker of the two men locked in combat, aiding his spear against the warhammer that packed a hard punch against the dirt, blowing it into their faces. Brynhildr was quick enough to dodge, and managed to use his movements against him, slicing when he least expected it and weakening him for the other to stab the spear into his heart. Before he could remove it, Brynhildr grabbed at the hilt and drove the sword into the man's abdomen, leaving herself the last one standing.

The slavers clapped amongst themselves, bags of coin were traded. The blue-haired fighter was chained up again, but watched her with interest once she was being pushed towards him, apparently having proven herself for the day.

He started to ask her something elaborate, but the only thing she caught was a question about her 'name.' Brynhildr pointed to herself, saying, "Mineri."

The man raised a brow and asked another question. This, she understood even less. He repeated it, and still she did nothing but stare blankly. At last, he pointed at himself and said, "Daario Naharis."

Brynhildr nodded, and said as best as she could in his tongue, "Hello, Daario Naharis."

He smirked, quick tongue flicking as he said something else. She caught the words 'teach,' and 'fight.' She assumed either he wanted to teach her or he wanted to learn from her. That sounded like a good sign.

In this strange land of Meereen, she'd made her first friend.