Ivar has not shut up about how Ragnar has asked him personally to join him on his raid in England. It was becoming almost insufferable to be around the boy. His brothers chuckled when Ivar brought up the news, trying not to say much as they feigned happiness for him.

In the weeks that Ragnar has been back from the dead he's made his way between his friends, Floki and Helga as well as traveling to Hedeby to visit with Lagertha to ask for warriors, boats, provisions. Aside from some of the boats that Bjorn was rumored to given up to his father, Ragnar was still out a crew- save for Ivar.

It was clear that the King was not welcome in Kattegat. As he walked down the gravel and dirt roads of the marketplace he studied all of the strange new things from strange new lands, trying hard to make conversation. The towns people mocked him, glared or ignored his half-hearted attempt at conversation. He did well at hiding his emotions as he walked further on and started again with another merchant stall or passing man but after a long morning full of sneers and being chased away, he was finally starting to break down.

I followed him from a distance through the maze of people, half because I was curious to see if he could even get a raiding party together and because I was stalling before I had to get back to doing chores.

Ragnar stopped an older man who was driving a cart full of crops. A younger man who was walking along side of the horse tugged at the reins, stopping the animal. Circling around the towering animal, Ragnar started speaking with the farmer. He spoke of the settlement, trying to sound angered at the Saxon king who ordered his people be slaughtered. He told the farmer he was looking for men like himself, warriors, to voyage to England to exact revenge on the destruction of the settlement.

The farmer stops him by throwing up his hand to silence Ragnar's horrible acting. He tells his King that his brother and his family were some of those who established the settlement in England. Ragnar's eyes flutter shut, his fake smile disappearing as the man informs Ragnar that it was because of him that they are dead.

"I'd rather die a poor farmer, a dishonorable death in the eyes of the All Father and be dragged to Hell than go with you!" Ragnar flinched as the man spat on his face. The younger one tugged the reins forward as he laughed at Ragnar's broken appearance as they continued on.

Ragnar turned, wiping the spit from his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt as he watched the cart drive away. His eyes slowly moved to me as I stood still in the crowd of moving people. Realizing his gaze I quickly turned, trying to act like I was looking for something.

"You, girl!" He called out. "You are the one who follows my son, Ivar, no?"

"Yes, my king." I said sheepishly, looking up from the baskets filled with spices. He gestured his head for me to come to him. Tucking a wavy tress behind my ear I made my way to him.

"My King? You are the first to call me that since my return." Ragnar chuckled, his tone soft and kind as he looked me over. His fingers flexed at his side, a nervous tick of his that seemed to flare when he spoke.

"Is that not who you still are?" I asked, furrowing my brow as I met his gaze. His blue eyes reminded me so much of Ivar's from the color, though Ragnar's seemed cloudy, down to the same dominating, crazed stare.

"Hmm, In a manner of speaking." He laughed. His hand stretched out, taking a lock of blonde from my shoulder and rubbing it between his fingers. Examining it like if he'd stare long enough he'd find his answer. "Do I know you?"

I paused, bitting my lip as I thought if I should tell him the truth. Tell him who I am, who my parents were. Would it matter, would he even care that his friend's daughter was enslaved by his delusional wife? "You knew me,"

"I knew you?" He questioned, smiling coyly down at me.

"You knew my father and mother. Njal and Bodil."

He took a moment, visibly racking his brain for my name. "Briet?" He asked when he thought of my name. I nodded at him, a small smile spreading on my lips. "My you've grown." His tone was sweet as he paced in front of me again looking me over. Ragnar's smile slowly dropped as his brows came together in confusion. His tung dipped out, licking his chapped lower lip slowly before he spoke.

"Why are you my son's slave?"

I sighed, mentally telling myself not to falter as I spoke the lines I had rehearsed whenever I was questioned. "The queen believes I conspire with Earl Ingstad to overthrow her. She has made a display of me, so that the people know what will happen to them if they listen to Lagertha's lies."

Ragnar's eyes rolled dramatically as he chuckled at my response. "Earl Ingstad... yes. And does the queen know that I've known you from when you were a babe?"

"I'm not sure, my King."

"Stop with the formalities." Ragnar barked, making me jump. "My son has asked about having you join us in England. Has he asked you?"

"He has... but I've told him no." I answered, wringing my fingers as I spoke.

"Smart girl." Ragnar put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing his fingers as a silent farewell before walking into the crowd.

Sometime around midday, the battle horns were sounded, calling everyone to run towards the beaches. Tossing the wet rag back into the bucket of water, I jogged to the doors of the hall and looked to the fjords. Sails littered the horizon, hundreds of boats sailed towards the town. I walked out further to try and hear the people as they passed by to see who was arriving.

"Floki is bringing Bjorn's fleet!" One of the younger shield-maidens exclaimed to her friend as she tugged her along to the beach.

Squinting my eyes I could finally make out the markings on the sails. It wasn't just Floki but King Harald and his army were also sailing to our shores. My heart longed to run to the docks and greet the wary sailors as they came ashore but my damp and pruning hands reminded me of the work that needed to be done for tonights feast.

The feast to celebrate the journey to the Mediterranean was well underway. The great hall was filled with people enjoying the prepared food and endless ale. Bjorn traveled around the crowd of warriors, singing his praise and telling him how excited they are to travel under his command. Hvitserk followed him so he could be properly introduced to his crew.

I was tasked with serving drinks and food. Walking around the tables where rowdy vikings sat speaking merely about past raids, feasting hungrily on the various meats and playing drinking games.

A middle aged man who sat at the table across from where I was supposed to stand waiting held up his curved ale horn for me to fill. Even under his thick beard, I could see his lips turn up into a devious smirk as I rounded the table. Pouring the amber liquid into his cup I felt his eyes bore into my chest as the others who sat around him also stared. I felt small and helpless, like prey as they all leaned in a little closer, their drinks making them even more brave. I felt rough hands grip onto my hips as I finished pouring the drink.

Whimpering as the strangers grip grew tighter still, his fingers digging into my hip bones as he pulled me down onto his lap. He took the pitcher from my hands, setting it down and then pushing it across the table. His hand snapped back onto my body, roaming up my side to my chest. The others looked on with wild eyes, licking their lips as they watched the stranger grope me. He roughly pressed his bearded face into my cheek as he spoke threateningly, making me tremble.

"Such a pretty slave! I bet you've never been fucked by a real man. Only those pussy boys they call 'princes'." I could smell the ale on his breath as he breathed onto my face. My body tensed as the man sitting across from him reached out, sliding his hand from my knee up my thigh until his finger tips almost reached between my legs.

"Skarde! Birger!" My eyes darted to the voice who barked over the men and their taunting laughs.

Bjorn stood behind the one who held me, his arms crossed. "Let her go."

Violently, I was pushed off the man's lap as he growled in anger. "She was looking at us like she wanted a good time!" The other laughed, holding out his hands in a surrendering gesture.

"I though slaves were fair game," the first one snapped as he turned to Bjorn. His face was littered with scars from past battles including a large raised scar that covered most of his right cheek. His eyes were soulless as he matched Bjorn's intensity.

Bjorn's top lip twitched up in a scowl. "Not this one." He said sternly as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders before walking me away from the drunks.

"T-thank you," my voice was trembling as I spoke quietly so only Bjorn could hear.

Before Bjorn had the chance to say anything in return the towering wooden doors of the hall opened. Lagertha stood with her hands folded in front of her. Her dress was black with elegant leather patch detailing from the neck line all the way to the bottom hem of the garment. Her shoulders were wrapped in beautiful dark colored furs, shielding her from the still bitting winds of this spring evening. Her hair was braided in a crown around her head with fallen strands framing her face. Flanking her were warrior women that I recognized form my last visit to Hedeby but their names I couldn't recall except for the wide eyed woman standing at her side, Astrid. As her eyes met with Bjorn her stern expression quickly changed to a smile from ear to ear.

"Mother?" Bjorn questioned, letting go of my still shaking frame, walking to meet Lagertha. "What are you doing here?"

I'm frozen again in fear as I see the table where Ivar, his brothers and Queen Aslaug are sitting in my peripherals. Their attention all on Lagertha and I pray to Odin that they nor Lagertha see me. Before I can slip back into the crowd of people I see Lagertha's eyes look past Bjorn and meet mine.

"Fuck," I whisper. Quickly looking back to the table I searched for Ivar. His eyes still haven't left Lagertha, nor have Aslaug's. I duck into the crowd before they got the chance to follow Lagertha's stare.

It didn't take long for her to find me. Feeling a gentle tap on my shoulder as I sat in a dark corner, sipping on ale, I turn and am met by Lagertha's blue eyes. The eyes that are usually filled with laughter and happiness are dark and clouded as she looks over me. There was no mistaking my new status as she studied my dull tattered dress and apron.

"Child, what's happened?" She asks quietly, pulling me up into a tight hug. "Who's done this to you?" She pulled back, still keeping her hands firmly on my shoulders.

"The Queen. She has taken my freedoms." I answer, looking down at the tops of my shoes as I speak.

Lagertha let out a frustrated sigh, her grip on me tightening. "I will speak with her-"

"No, it's okay Lagertha." I cut her off, meeting her stare.

"It is not okay, Briet! You are the daughter of a dear friend. I look at you like a daughter. I will not let some false queen take away your freedoms as she took away my husband and home!" Lagertha's voice stayed low even though her emotions rose as she spoke.

"I am Ivar's thrall. He has control over me," Lagertha's expression soured as I spoke "and I have his protection."

Lagertha was quiet, thinking of what she could do to reason with Aslaug. Resting my hands on top of hers, I tucked my fingers under hers and squeezed. "I am fine, Lagertha. I have a warm bed and food in my belly every night. It is not so bad." I smiled up at her.

"You could have had that with me, in Hedeby, without having to be the slave."

"I don't think I will be a slave for much longer. Ivar is leaving with Ragnar for England-"

"Briet!" Ivar's voice cut off mine as he called to me. I cursed myself for jumping at the sound of my name being beckoned. I had just tried to convince Lagertha that I was fine but I was afraid my reaction to Ivar's call gave me away.

I pushed off Lagertha's hands and moved past her so I was in Ivar's view. "Yes, Ivar?"

His hand slowly rose in front of him, sticking out a finger and curling it towards him. I took a step forward then stopped, looking back at Lagertha and smiling as sweetly as I could muster and then hurried to Ivar's side. Ivar's tongue ran across the inside of his cheek as he continued to glare in Lagertha's direction. Once by Ivar, his arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me down onto the stool next to him.

"Stay by me," he growled, not looking at me once.

Glancing from the corner of my eye I see that Lagertha is still standing and staring at me. I turned my head slightly, hoping Ivar wouldn't notice and gave her a small smile, again reassuring her that I was alright. Lagertha gave a smirk in return as she finally walked back out into the crowded hall.

Ivar leaned closer to me so his words would only be heard by me. "What were you speaking about?" His hand grabbed mine and pulled it into his lap under the table. He squeezed my fingers signaling for me not to lie to him.

"Nothing,"

"Nothing, hmm? It did not look like nothing to me." Ivar questioned. Though his tone was light, I could hear his threatening undertone.

"She asked why I was a slave." I answered as his grip grew tighter. Not wanting to make a scene while his hold grew tighter still I moved closer to him, biting my lip to try and hide the pain from anyone who might be looking.

"And what did you say?" He growled into my ear. His breath fanned across my cheek leaving my skin hot.

"I said nothing. But I assured her that I was well cared for. I told her that I was yours and that she shouldn't worry about me." I blurted out, trying to hide my discomfort.

His vice grip loosened as I spoke. "Mine, hmm?" His eyes locked with mine as his devilish smile grew. Ivar's fingers moved, spreading mine so that our fingers were intertwined, still resting on his lap.

I glanced down to our entangled fingers and then back up to Ivar. The look painted on his face was new and I couldn't quite place it. I could tell that my words were repeating in his mind as he looked from me and out into the crowd. His smile was, genuine... happy. My stomach flipped as he slowly looked back at me, his smile still glowing.

"Come meet my brothers." Bjorn's voice breaks the spell we were under. Looking towards Bjorn just in time to see him pull Ubbe's hair, getting his little brother's attention.

Standing aside of Bjorn is King Harald and his brother Halfdan. Both of their faces were covered in intricate tattoos. Harald's chestnut colored hair was pulled back at the top of his head in a tight braid that flowed down his back. His fur lined cloak was held together at his chest by thick gold chains with elegant broaches at either side. His attire showing off his status as King. His brother on the other hand, Halfdan, had short blond hair that fell to the side of his face, covering one of his eyes. While Harald wore elegant bright colored clothes, Halfdan dressed in simple clothes, a blue tunic, brown trousers and boots. His cloak was simple, black with no fancy embellishments.

"Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar." Bjorn named the boys while pointing his finger at each. They stood to meet King Harald, all smiling from both being introduced to the famous king and from having too much ale.

"Hvitserk is coming with us!" He says, proudly putting an arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Ah, I remember you, I remember all of you!" Harald says joyfully, looking to each son. "But how you've all grown tall. You're not boys anymore!" His tone, though happy, seemed forced. As if he did not want to be bothered with the sons of Ragnar; the last person on his list of kings to defeat before he became the true King of all Norway.

Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd laugh as they raise their cups to Harald's comment. "Skol!"

"I am so much taller when I stand up." Ivar remarked, still seated in his chair. Instead of looking at Ivar, Harald's gaze landed on me. His traveling eyes made me feel naked, making me squirm under his stare. I was willing Ivar's attention, knowing he'd have no trouble saying anything but Halfdan's comment grabbed Harald's attention.

"I'm sure you wish you could come with us." Halfdan says, his tone dripping with fake pitty.

He shook away my hand from under the table and grabbed his cup and raised it to Halfdan. "Go to Hell."

Aslaug's face drops from her fake smile to a look of disbelief as her son had just insulted one of her guests. Harald burst into laughter at Ivar's comment, slapping Halfdan's shoulder. "I like him!"

Halfdan stood there, still surprised at the young prince's remark as he drank from his cup. Floki appeared from behind the brothers, blowing a raspberry to get their attention. Halfdan's relieved expression made me giggle to myself as he finally looked away from Ivar and to Floki who was already leading him and Harald away from our table.

"Mother," Ivar says, gently tapping Aslaug's arm with the back of his hand. She turns to look at him, her eyes narrow and her lips parted as she no doubt was about to chastise her son for his comment. Ivar slowly takes his hand from her arm and points his index finger out into the sea of bodies. Aslaug's brow raises questioningly before she follows his hand. Lagertha.

Aslaug's lips pursed as she held Lagertha's gaze. It takes Lagertha a moment to force a friendly smile at the woman who took her husband but she manages to make it somewhat believable. The Queen rises from her chair, grabbing at the sides of her skirt lifting it a few inches and then descends down the three steps, towards Lagertha.

My stomach does nervous flips as I see them start to walk slowly through the gathering, speaking but never once looking at each other. When they are swallowed by the crowd my attention turns back to Ivar who has his cup to his lips, slowly drinking while he peers over the rim. Following his stare I see Harald and Halfdan raising their cups with Helga and Floki. As I continue watching I notice Harald's not so discreet glances towards us.

Ivar snakes his arm around my waist as he pulls me closer still. With wide eyes I look up to him. Why was he acting so possessive tonight?

"You are free to enjoy yourself, but stay away from King Harald. Do you understand, little one?" He says into my ear. I furrowed my brows, surly he wasn't jealous of King Harald? Though I am still a slave, I would have no say if any man were to pursue me. I am not looked at as a human in the eyes of the free people and Harald knew that.

"Yes, Ivar. Thank you." I said, trying to hide the excitement in my voice.

When I left Ivar's side I immediately hurried into the crowd, grabbing a drink along the way and stalked Lagertha and Aslaug as they conversed. I had begged Lagertha not to bring up my situation with Aslaug and I was terrified she would. Maybe if she did while I was listening I could step in. It was impossible to hear them, however. The cheers and laughter of the villagers was overbearing and I couldn't read lips. I know their conversation ended on a bad note though because Lagertha stopped dead in her tracks as Aslaug continued to walk on, a victorious smirk on her face.

Not long after the two women went their separate ways, Lagertha grabbed Astrid away from her very flirtatious conversation with Bjorn and left the hall. Moments later, I saw most of the thralls hurrying out of the hall.

Jogging over to Margrethe who was going to fill another pitcher for Ubbe and Hvitserk I asked why so many thralls were rushing out. "There is going to be a sacrifice to bless Bjorn's voyage. Queen Aslaug is going to officiate." Her voice was annoyed as she continued her task.