My skull felt like it was being split open and I swore it felt like I hadn't had a drink of water in weeks. The small beams of light that made their way in through the cracks of the window were blinding me. This was, without a doubt, the worst hangover I've ever had.

I groaned, gingerly rolling over onto my side, trying not to lift my head while I pulled the blankets up around me, hoping that somehow that would make this hangover go away. The moment I felt better, I planned on going to Harald and punching him for feeding me so much mead at dinner.

I felt a stubbly chin brush against my shoulder followed by a tender kiss on the crook of my neck. Before I could even register what was going on I heard him speak.

"Marry me, Breit."

I rolled over to look at him and before I was even all the way on my side, Ivar's hand cupped my cheek and his lips met mine in a gentle yet possessive kiss. I couldn't help but moan into his lips as flashes from last night played behind my closed eyes. A wave of heat washed over me and the same feeling of desire rose between my legs.

Breaking the kiss, I looked up at his hooded eyes. "I thought you said we were gong to take this slow?"

His hand moved from my cheek and his fingers ran through my blonde locks. "The full moon was just the other night, hmm? We can plan to marry by the next full moon and in the mean time we can take things slow. That also gives everyone time to prepare the celebration and feast."

"And... and what if this doesn't work out? Then what?"

Ivar licked his lips, his smile dropping for a moment. "Then it will be a feast to celebrate the end of the raiding season."

He leaned over and kissed my forehead before taking the blankets from his still naked body and sat up. Gingerly he pulled on his trousers, shifting his weight from one side and then the other to tug them up over his hips.

"If I remember correctly, you said you would teach me to ride a horse. I'll call for the blacksmith to join us, he can get some ideas for new braces for riding." He pulled his tunic over his head and then grabbed for the blankets that I was still snuggled under and pulled.

"Too much mead last night?" Ivar teased when he heard me groan from the hangover that was still getting worse.

Ivar's smile slowly dropped when his eyes landed on my bare stomach. I knew exactly what he was looking at. My heart sank and the feeling of nausea that came over me wasn't from the mead. The heavy feeling of emptiness hurt more than any battle wound I'd experienced and now that Ivar was looking at my scar I felt a new emotion; guilt. This was my fault. True, he was the reason I was with child in the first place and I had no idea we would be back together in any way but if it wasn't for my stupidity and my insatiable need to prove myself, my child would still be alive.

Thick, hot tears burned my eyes before they started to roll down my cheeks. Ivar saw my sadness and leaned over, resting on his elbows before he placed a long, gentle kiss on the puckered skin of my belly. I winced from the slight pressure. Even with the time that had passed and all of the herbal pastes that the healer painted on the wound, it was still tender to the touch.

Ivar felt me flinch under him, his brows came together and his already closed eyes tightened still. He breathed out a harsh breath through his nostrils then looked up at me.

"This is as much my fault, little one." he whispered, wiping my tears with his thumb. He moved up closer to me, moving a lock of my hair behind my ear and then placed another gentle kiss this time on my forehead. "I promise, I'll never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you." Placing another kiss on my forehead, his fingers gently started to stroke my hair. He looked into my eyes and I couldn't help but see a strange look of both sincerity and possession. "We will make another."

Make another? His words had my mind racing. Does this mean that at the end of the moon cycle I only had one choice, would he let me say no? Or was he serious about wanting to change?

Idunn was far too eager to burst into a gallop. To run into the woods or to take the trail up into the hills that surrounded Kattegat. She had been pent up in her stall for some time now and clearly the horse wanted nothing more than to run free. I too had that same urge deep down, the want to just take off into the woods and be alone, be free. Away from the thick cloud of uncertainty that hung over the town since Ivar's take over. The more days had passed, the more I knew I would never have the opportunity to run off on my own, I had bodyguards trailing me wherever I went.

Like the the guards who constantly trailed me, holding me back from being free, I had to constantly pull back at her reins, keeping her next to the smaller dark brown colored stallion that Ivar was perched precariously upon.

Although Ivar tried his best to hide it, I could tell that he was scared of riding a horse rather than being pulled along by one while he was safely strapped to his chariot. We had been at it for a few hours now and he was still trying to get his balance in his saddle, flinching and panicking whenever the horse would move on its own accord.

"Ivar, tighten your belly and press your heals down and use your legs to keep you stable." I instructed, circling around him.

He scoffed. "Easy for you to say, you have two working legs."

I bit my lip. He was right and like a fool, I hadn't even considered that when I offered to teach him. "Maybe we should stop?"

The blacksmith that Ivar had come with us stifled a laugh from his spot against one of the trees. I glanced over at him and watched him quickly cover his mouth in hopes of hiding his grin from Ivar and I but to no avail. When the smith saw Ivar and I looking his way, he quickly straightened his back and took his hand from his mouth, the color draining from his face.

Ivar breathed in through clenched teeth while he tried to position his legs like I had told him. The horse that the was given to him was an older stallion and according to the man who ran the stables, the horse would be best for teaching Ivar since he wouldn't try to buck or run off. I thanked the Gods that the stable man was kind enough to think about the new king of Kattegat and his needs. Or was it because he was secretly scared of Ivar?

Once Ivar finally got his legs in a more comfortable position, he straightened his back and looked back at me with a smug grin.

"Of course not. My chariot is useful but there will surely be times where I'll need to ride like a normal man." He made a face at me to try and convince me that he was fine but the pain was still written all over his features. "And besides, I dragged the blacksmith all this way, it would be shame if it was for nothing, hmm?"

Ivar glared back at the smith who was still squirming from having been seen laughing at Ivar the Boneless.

Idunn stutter-stepped again, showing me that she was still restless and wanting to run. I sighed then tugged the reins to the right, nudging my heals into her side and let her gallop to the tree line across the meadow where I knew there would be some apples. It only took a moment to get to the trees, I let her run along the tree line for a moment before I took an apple from a passing tree and then directed her back to Ivar who watched the whole thing. The moment I got back to Ivar's side, I leaned forward and held out the apple for my horse to take.

"Show off," Ivar teased.

"No, just trying to keep my horse from running off with me." I smiled over at him, meeting his ice blue eyes. Something in the way he looked over at me was different. His expression was that of adoration, a look that I have only ever seen him give his father. Maybe our time away and how we were brought back together has actually changed him, I thought. That moment didn't last long though as memories from York started to flood my mind.

Ivar smirked his devious smirk then kicked his heals against the belly of his horse, whipping the reins. The old horses' eyes widened, letting out a startled neigh before he broke into a gallop.

"Ivar, wait!" I yelled. My horse didn't need me to command her forward, she took off as soon as she saw the other start to run.

In no time I had caught up to Ivar's side. He looked both terrified and exhilarated while he was being bounced around atop the old horse. Images of Ivar falling from the saddle and writhing in pain on the ground played in my mind. I desperately thought of a way to take control of his horse knowing that nothing I could say to him would make him stop, the stubborn ass.

"Just- just keep your heals pressed down into the stirrups and keep your legs tight," I'd never given much thought into how to describe riding a horse to someone. It was something that came rather naturally to me, my body just knew what to do. Now I had to instruct Ivar while he was heading full tilt into the woods.

"Stay out of the woods, Ivar. It'll be too much to try and run through the trees and the brush, we can take the trail up to the cliffs instead." But naturally, Ivar refused to listen to me. In a few strides, we were in the forest, our horses breaking from each others side as they started to run around the trees.

I could hear Ivar's grunts of pain as his horse dodged the trees, throwing Ivar from side to side.

"Pull back on the reins, Ivar!"

"Keep up, little one!" Ivar yelled between grunts.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "This man will be the death of me." I muttered. I squeezed my legs tighter around Idunn. "Yah-yah!"

Idunn gracefully weaved through the woods, getting well in front of Ivar. Clearly telling Ivar to stop wasn't going to work so I would have to physically stop him.

Nudging my horse with my heals to make her go faster still, I pulled out a ways in front of Ivar and then pulled back on the reins. Idunns' whinny was loud while she skidded to a halt, her hooves sliding in the dirt. The moment she came to a stop she bucked up onto her hind legs, kicking her front legs to show me her anger for making her stop the run she was clearly enjoying.

I leaned forward and tightened my legs around her still, not wanting to be thrown from her like I had been weeks before. Her front legs came crashing down to the ground where she then paced, snorting from her flaring nostrils. Gods, she was as animated as Vidar, I thought. I heard Ivar closing in on us.

I watched as he locked his legs out and leaned back, pulling the reins with him. The old station slowed to a trot before he came to a halt at my side.

Ivar's face twisted in pain even though he tried hard to hide it. "Having trouble keeping up?" He teased.

"Ha! I could beat you any day, Ivar." I scoffed.

He grimaced in pain once again while he tried to find a more comfortable position on the saddle.

Letting out a sigh, I reached down and placed my open hand on Idunn and pet her softly. "I didn't want anything to happen to you, you stubborn brute."

The slow smile on Ivar's face as my words sunk in made something click in my mind. He was happy that I cared about his safety. This realization made me feel oddly uncomfortable. Ivar never seemed to care what I thought about him or my feelings towards him. All he cared about was possessing me. His words from earlier this morning echoed in my head, how he would be sure that he would never hurt me again. Has he actually changed?

The fall leaves crunched under my boots while I walked the town with no real direction. My mind was busy dissecting my conversations with Ivar from yesterday and this morning. Going over his story about why he had me enslaved because of his feelings for me had me feeling vexed. Of all the ways he could have gone about confessing his feelings towards me he chose some long, convoluted plan that made me lose what little I had and fall in love with him seemingly against my own will. At first, anyways.

I sighed out in frustration. The past is the past, I clearly cannot change it. It happened and now I am stuck here at this new fork in my life's path. There is no doubt, I am in love with Ivar the boneless. I cannot deny the feeling of being completely at home when I am in his arms. A feeling I didn't know I would miss in the months we were apart. Now that I had felt it again, there was a part of me that never wanted to let it go.

But then there was her. Freydis. The burning image of her naked body on top of Ivar stung as it played in my mind. I hated her for driving the stake between Ivar and I. With the thought of Freydis came flashes of Ivar's hate filled attack on me. I can never forgive him for that but I know that he was a different person when we were in England. Helheim, he killed his own brother in cold blood in front of the entire army.

That Ivar was a cold, calloused animal who had only one true ambition; to murder those who killed Ragnar and anyone who got in his way. He spiraled into an unrecognizable creature.

This Ivar, the one that I woke up to after the battle for Kattegat is different. I can see it in his eyes. He's never looked at me the way he does now. It's like I am some fragile thing that he has to protect, especially after finding me half dead on the battle field. Perhaps the time we spent away from each other made him realize his true feelings for me.

His words repeated in my head, "I promise, I'll never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you." Something deep inside me believes that he is telling the truth.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I managed to walk right into someone. My bent head collided with the chin of whoever I'd just walked into and I heard a man's voice groan out in pain. The force of our bodies colliding made me stumble back a few steps.

"Gods, I am so sorry," I looked up to see Hvitserk clutching his chin, his brows knit together.

"Hvitserk... hi." I said awkwardly. I hadn't spoken with him since England, really. I'd seen him here and there after waking up from the battle but he's been seemingly keeping his distance from his brother.

"Hello, Briet." He answered, his eyes darting around to the people who were bustling around us.

I couldn't help but feel like he was searching for someone by the way he was looking from person to person, scanning their faces. Trying to calm him down with small talk I decided to ask about Margrethe. "How is Margrethe doing? You're caring for her, no?"

Hvitserk scoffed. "I am. She's not well. May I ask what happened to her while we were still in England?"

I licked my lips, trying to choose my words carefully. We never got along while we were serving the sons of Ragnar. Her ambitions were clear to me, she wanted to win the affections of one of the sons in hopes of them freeing her from slavery. Her true intentions were made evident when we returned from England. "Well, she wasn't a fan of Lagertha. She tried every chance she got to speak against her, to try and get the people of Kattegat to go against her."

"I don't blame her. She killed my mother, Lagertha deserves to die." Hvitserk spat, finally looking me in the eyes.

I couldn't help the scowl that formed on my face. Lagertha was the reason Margrethe was really free to begin with, even though Ubbe had freed her, Lagertha was the one who made it official. She'd still be a slave if Aslaug were alive, no doubt.

"She was going mad, Hvitserk. I feel like she didn't even love your brother, she tried to convince Ubbe to usurp Lagertha anyway he could so she could be queen. As if she were only with him because he was her ticket to be queen.

Hvitserk laughed. "The only reason why she was married to Ubbe is because he freed her under the condition that she marry him. She really didn't have a choice. Ubbe and I shared Margrethe and it was clear that she loved me over him."

His comment made me hate her even more. She was using Ubbe for her own selfish gain.

"Well your brother finally figured it out and put some distance between himself and Margrethe. He started to develop feelings for Torvi, Ubbe tried ending it civilly with Margrethe and do you want to know what she did in return? She tried to kill torvi's children!"

Hvitserk shook his head, his nostrils flaring in anger. He didn't want to hear anything I had to say at this point. "If you hate her so much, why even bother asking how she's doing?" Hvitserk spat. "If all you really wanted was to find out how I am doing so you can run and tell Ivar, you can tell him I am fine." He pushed past me, making sure to hit me with his shoulder as he passed.

So he thinks I am a spy for Ivar? Why would Ivar need someone to spy on Hvitserk?

Ivar's POV

Every ounce of my being was in pain. Every move I made caused lightning bolts of pain to shoot through my body. Riding a horse proved to be a lot harder than I had imagined. I knew my legs would hurt from having them situated on the saddle but I didn't think that every single movement from the animal would cause me such pain. But Gods, it was worth it. I felt so free, freer than when I am riding in my chariot. Riding through the woods, feeling the wind against my face as the animal moved around the obstacles, that was the closest feeling I would get to actually running.

And getting to spend time with Briet, getting to see her do something she is seemingly passionate about had me looking at her with a whole new light. I loved the way she looked when she took off to take an apple from the tree across the meadow for her horse. The look on her face as she did so reminded me of how she used to look before all of this. She looked innocent and happy.

Bitting my lip, I gripped the arm rests of the chair that I was sitting on and used my upper body strength to lift and reposition myself on the chair, trying to find a comfortable way to sit.

After our ride, Briet and I took our horses back to the stable and went our separate ways for the rest of the afternoon. I had a meeting planned with King Harald and afterwards the blacksmith wanted to take measurements of my legs for new braces. Thankfully Harald was quick about his business and didn't take long to discuss his proposed trading deals between his lands and Kattegat. Before he left the table at the great hall, he again made mention of the whispers of distrust that were floating around Kattegat. The way he said it was suspicious enough, his awkward half smile after the words left his lips and his shifting gaze before he turned to leave me with his comment. I was the road block for him being true king of Norway. I knew that his comments were meant to get inside my head but there was also some truth to it.

I noticed my brother, Hvitserk being more standoffish with me, not wanting to be around me or at celebrations. He was now completely occupied with the slave girl, Margrethe. No doubt she was putting lies in his head about me. He was slowly turning into an enemy.

I sighed. I was now sitting here in what used to be my parents room waiting for the blacksmith to show up. I thought I would be so happy to be home but this town, this hall that used to be my home felt foreign somehow.

Lagertha had redecorated this room with all of her bright colored furnishings and tapestries. I barely recognized this room. Turning, I looked back at the bed, my hand reaching out to the plush furs that covered the bed.

I was serious about what I told Briet this morning. I would never hurt her again and I would kill anyone who dares to lay a finger on her. The four months we were away from each other was hell for me. Seeing her sail away on the long ship was worse than any pain these damned legs have ever caused me. And seeing her like that on the battle field beaten and bloodied, I thought I had died then.

My fist clenched the fur blanket remembering that heart wrenching feeling. Never again. I won't let anything like that happen to her again, I thought. My eyes trailed over the pillows and furs. In three weeks time the moon will be full again and I plan on marrying Briet. This will be our marriage bed.

My thoughts were interrupted by the blacksmith who knocked on the wooden beam to get my attention instead of saying my name.

The smith got to work right away, fumbling with the materials that he brought with him. He let them awkwardly fall to the floor and then picked out the leather straps he would use to buckle the new braces and put it between his teeth. He grabbed two metal plates and put one on my shin and the other against my calf then tried to wrap the leather around my leg to hold the metal sheets in place.

He made his marks and quietly did everything he had to. When he was finished, he went to replace what were my every day braces. I could see his hands trembling as he put the tight fitting materials on my legs, clearly he was trying to be as gentle as possible as to not hurt me.

The buckle that was right below my knee was stuck and wouldn't budge. Before I could even reach to push his hands away and do it myself, he applied more pressure to the latch which made him simultaneously put too much pressure on my knee. Before I could even tell him to stop there was a loud snapping noise.

I roared in pain feeling the bones in my leg snap from the pressure. Almost instantly I felt my rage consume me, muting the waves of agony. My hand shot to my belt where I grabbed my knife and brought it to the smith's throat, my other hand gripping the back of his neck to keep him in place.

"Forgive me, my king!" The blacksmith yelped, his. Eyes wide with fear.

"No more mistakes, hmm?" I growled between shaky breaths, taking the knife from his neck.

"Mm-hmm." Is all the smith could manage before he stumbles to his feet and scurried out of the room.

Leaning back in my seat I closed my eyes in an attempt to steady myself. Stupid blacksmith, I thought to myself while another wave of pain came over me. Upon opening my eyes they were instantly drawn to a figure that was standing behind one of the decorative curtains that separated the open space of the hall and the bedroom. Squinting my eyes to try and make out the figure I felt my heart skip a beat.

Freydis.

Without thinking I immediately spoke. "Please, don't just stand there. Come in."

Moving slowly and almost meticulously with her eyes cast down, she stepped around the hanging curtain. She was wearing a long red dress with blue sleeves, her hair braided loosely and pulled to one side. Her eyes slowly moved up to look at me while she moved to the stool that was at my feet that the blacksmith was previously on. I felt a strange ping of embarrassment at the thought that she probably saw me threaten the smiths' life for having accidentally hurt me.

"How are you?" I asked. Freydis was smiling that sweet smile I remember so vividly from England making me feel nervous to speak to her.. "I have been thinking about you."

Stupid, I chided myself mentally. You sound like a fool.

Trying to recover from the awkward comment I leaned over and poured the both of us a glass of wine, handing her a cup with a slightly trembling hand. "Are you married?"

Good job, Ivar. Not sounding like an idiot at all.

"No," she says with a slight laugh, breaking me from my nervous thoughts. She took the cup that I had offered her and took a small sip. "I am not married. I live alone. I like it that way. You freed me and so I live freely with no man in my life, no obligations, no ties."

Her answer had me feeling a strange excited and hopeful feeling. Her eyes never once left mine while she spoke. She had me under her spell, I was helpless.

"I've never forgotten what you've told me." I said looking out at her through my thick lashes, my voice low.

"It's true what I told you." She says in a very declaring way, her back straightening slightly as she spoke. "You are a very special person, Ivar."

I cannot help but laugh awkwardly. Despite all that I've accomplished, I know I have a lot to do to still prove himself, not only to the people that I now rule over but also to the Gods.

"It is still hard for me to believe that. All my life has been a struggle. A war against myself-"

She interjects, "But look what you have already accomplished! The Gods have marked you out. You are favored above all men."

"Even so, I am in daily danger of being killed." King Harald's words seemed to have subconsciously sunk into my mind. The very real truth that people wanted me dead for overthrowing Lagertha was finally becoming evident.

"Killed? By who?"

Looking away from her piercing eyes I sighed, upset that I had let myself voice my concerns that I should have kept to myself. But why should I keep them to myself? I should have someone to talk to, to confide in. "Can I speak honestly and openly with you? Somehow, I feel like I can trust you."

A slow smirk pulls at the corner of her lips. "You can trust me, Ivar. I would give my life for you if you asked me to. You know that. Now, how can I help you? What do you want me to do?"