A/N: This chapter contains details of blood and gore. I put a couple of asterisks between the bit that depicts the battle between King Aelle and the Vikings so if blood and gore and stuff isn't your cup of tea you know what part to skip :)

Cold sea water sprayed over the side of the long ship as it cut through the waves, making its way ever closer to England. Huddled in the a small space at the back of the boat, I peered over the side and looked out at the sails that followed. Stretching out my sore legs, I rubbed my calf muscles trying to get out the stiff feeling that had settled in from not being able to walk much. More water sprayed over the side of the boat and soaked my face, making me wipe the salty water away with the sleeve of my tunic.

Of all of the things I imagined about the voyage to England, feeling this restless and trapped was not one of them. Not only was I confined to this fifty foot vessel but I was also not aloud out of direct eyesight of Ivar.

"Since we both know I cannot trust you, little one, you will stay by my side for the journey." He spoke as I boarded the vessel back in Kattegat. "I wouldn't want you to make any new alliances." Ivar added as he stared coldly at Florian who walked across the plank onto our boat carrying huge sacks of supplies.

We had been sailing for almost a week, five days to be precise. Five days of being under Ivar's constant gaze. I prayed for Thor to strike me down with one of his lightning bolts or for Njorn to drag me down into the abyss below and drown me. I had half a mind to curse them out for not hearing me but I wouldn't want to anger the gods considering they had given us favorable weather and strong winds this whole journey.

Vidar was none too pleased with being confined to the small space of the boat nor the constant rocking of the waves. He was cuddled at my side, head resting on my leg looking pathetic. Ivar begrudgingly let me bring the wolf along. Something to keep me busy and out of trouble, he reasoned.

"Bjorn!" Halfdan's voice called over from his ship. Bjorn's head perked up from his rowing seat before he stood and looked to Halfdan. Halfdan stood at the front of his ship, arm wrapped around the serpent's neck that decorated the front of the boat and hung over the side above the water. He pointed excitedly at something in front of the fleet.

I stood up on wobbly legs and leaned over the side of the boat to look in that direction. I could feel Ivars' scrutinizing stare behind me as I investigated. Fuck him, I thought. I can do as I please. I followed Halfdan's invisible line and strained my eyes to see what he was pointing at.

"Land!" Bjorn shouted, dropping his oar and pushing his way to the front of the boat. "England!"

Today was the day; the day the great heathen army would march on King Aelle's army. The day the Sons of Ragnar would get their revenge. Ivar was sitting on the edge of the bed inside the tent we shared, strapping his leather armor around his legs. He tied the strings off tight before he turned and looked at me.

"My shirt, please." he spoke in a soft tone. I grabbed his tunic and walked towards him. His eyes slowly trailed up my body until his roaming eyes met mine. He gently took the shirt from my hands and then pointed to his leather vest. I grabbed the piece of armor and helped him pull it over his head and down his body. His hands worked on buckling the straps at his side while I laid out the piece of chain mail over his shoulder and fixed the collar of the garment so that it would protect his neck.

When he finished, his hands grabbed my hips and pulled me down so that I was straddling him. Ivar's hands moved over my own body armor I had on and chuckled softly. "I don't think you'll be needing this, hmm? You'll be safe here while I'm gone."

I furrowed my brows as I looked down at him. "I am going with you. I want to fight."

Now Ivar laughed, pulling me closer still in an uncomfortably tight hug before pushing me away so he could get down off of the bed of furs. "No, little one, you will be staying here with the women. To skin the game we've hunted and to make sure we have a feast to come back to. Besides, I don't want you to be a distraction to me." He slithered his way to the opening of the tent that was tied back with rope.

"No, Ivar. I am going to fight. I am a warrior!"

Ivar's head snapped back around, his expression one I'd only seen him give to Sigurd when he had gone too far with him. "You are no warrior, Briet. You would be killed in an instant." Ivar's face softened slightly. "I don't want to lose you."

"But I've already bested you," I said in a silly attempt to show my worth.

"Did it ever occur to you that I wanted you to win that day at the training grounds, hmm? You would never actually win in a fight with me, girl." Ivar turned and ignored my stammering as I tried to plead with him to let me fight.

I looked down at my clothes and armor and weapons that adorned my belt. My heart sink to my stomach. He knew that deep down, proving myself as a warrior was the most important thing to me. To make my father who sat in Valhalla proud of me and now that I have the chance I'm told to stay back with the women.

Coming out of the tent, I watched as Ivar was strapping himself into his chariot with the help of Hvitserk. Ivar pulled up a black cloth around the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes to peak out of the top of the cloth and then pulled his helmet down over his head.

"You march with us, Briet?" Hvitserk asked happily as he looked me over.

"No, Hvitserk. Briet is staying back with the women to prepare the feast. Isn't that right, Briet?" Ivar teased, looking down at me from his perch.

I desperately fought back the tears, trying to stay calm as I answered him. "Yes, Ivar."

Hvitserk looked up to Ivar and then back to me. He gave me a half smile as he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I could see Ivar out of the corner of my eye move uncomfortably in his seat as he watched Hvitserk touch me. 

"There will be other battles," He said, trying to make me feel better before he walked away.

"Move out!" Bjorn's voice boomed over the large field crowded with warriors. They all roared back, banging their swords and axes against their shields in a rhythmic way as they marched on into the woods and to battle.

"Stay here, little one." Ivar spoke as he shook the reins, commanding his horse to move.

It didn't take long for the army to spill out into the woods and be almost completely out of sight. I stood there feeling numb knowing many of my fellow country men and women would not be returning. As much as I hated Ivar at times, I prayed for his return as I clutched the Mjolnir necklace Lagertha gifted me before leaving Kattegat.

"You do not march with us?" Florian called while jogging up to me.

Quickly wiping away the stray tear on my cheek I looked up at him, trying my best to fake a smile. "Prince Ivar doesn't want to be distracted with my presence on the battlefield. He asked that I stay back."

Florian smiled wider while he adjusted his shield on his arm so it was more comfortable. "Well, now that he thinks you are here with the women, march with me." He flashed a devilish smile down at me.

"I couldn't... he would be angry." My eyes darted down to the ground while I pictured him angrily on top of me, his hand tightly wrapped around my neck for disobeying him. "If he would see me-"

"But he won't. At least, not until after the battle. You can march with me, I'm in Floki's battalion. I'll be away from the sons of Ragnar and near the back. He won't see you, Briet. Not until after the battle anyways." 

I pursed my lips and looked to the woods. The warriors were out of sight now. "Come on, before you talk yourself out of it." He chuckled, putting his arm around my shoulders and leading me towards the army.

"I've always told myself it's better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission." His tone was lighthearted but if only he knew Ivar.

****
Floki dressed in barely any armor, a couple of arm cuffs and a light leather vest, his face painted black with Tiwaz standing out in white paint against the black. He stopped and held up his sword in a silent command to hold. The warriors in his battalion stopped behind the cover of a grassy hill. The regiment led by the sons of Ragnar moved up the hill first, followed soon after by King Harold's unit. Floki's was next. He brought down his sword and the horde marched, meeting with the two other divisions. Looking across the field I could see, who I assumed, was King Aelle and his pathetic excuse for an army at the top of the adjacent hill.

Looking around at the landscape, I tried to familiarize myself with it so that when the fight started, I wouldn't become disoriented. So this is it, I thought while I felt the adrenaline surge through me.

The thundering sound of Ivar's chariot passed in front of our unit and I quickly ducked behind Florian so he wouldn't see me in the crowd. I hated to admit it, but he was right. This was his first battle, he first chance to truly prove himself as a Ragnarson and he couldn't be worrying about me while in the theater of war. A pang of guilt hit me but I quickly pushed it aside, I was here now and I couldn't think about anything else than surviving. Ivar stopped in the middle of the great army and turned his horse so that he was facing the Saxon King from across the field and drew his axe from his belt.

Florian turned to me, "You do not have a shield, so first thing you do is find someone who has been killed and take their shield." He brought his shield in front of his body and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. "Second, stay alive. I will try and stay by your side but I can make no promises."

My palms were starting to sweat and I could feel myself shaking from nerves. I took a deep breath in through my nose to steady my nerves and released it slowly through my lips.

Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd emerged from the men wielding their shields and weapons and joined their brother at the front of the force. I glanced again to Aelle, seeing him fidget even more on his horse as he struggled to take his sword from its sheath as he looked on the full scope of the great heathen army. We now outnumbered the Saxons ten to one and the men knew it as they nervously looked to their king for some type of mental reassurance.

Harold's laugh could be heard over the hum of the warriors. He could no longer hide his amusement of how easy it will be to take the opposing army. Harold turned to his men and lifted his shield which caused the warriors to shout in excitement. The Norsemen all started to bang their weapons against their shield, one final amp up before the charge.

I looked up to Florian, his face changed to one of a predator about to attack his cornered prey. He growled low from his chest but I could hear it over the clanging of metal on wood. He bared his teeth before he let out another much louder growl. He looked how I imagined a berserker would from the many tales I heard as a child. A truly frightening thing to see a man, even one as kind as Florian, turn into.

"Ragnar!" Bjorn bellowed, lunging forward, sword in the air and charged the Saxons. Ivar let out his battle cry as he whipped the reins of his horse. The horse bolted forward into action, his brothers and the men following suit.

The Saxons took a moment before they too ran into battle. I shook off the last of my fears and pushed away the voices in my head as I joined my countrymen in the melee. The first Saxon I came in contact with looked terrified but that soon changed to confusion when he realized I was a woman, particularly a woman with barely any armor and no shield.

I brought my sword up to my middle, ready to defend my most vital parts from his attack. He swung his sword around aiming it at my ribs. I blocked his coming hit and immediately went on the offense, trying to land a blow to his open ribs but he blocked it with his shield. He foolishly swung his shielded arm away and left his belly open. He was fast, but I knew I was faster. I grabbed the hilt of my weapon with both hands and quickly brought it back to center and buried it into his stomach.

The soldier spewed blood from his lips, droplets spraying my face before he fell to the ground. I did as Florian instructed earlier and grabbed his shield before his dead body had time to hit the ground. I had no time to properly mount it on my forearm when the next attack came.

A punch landed square on my jaw, snapping my head in the opposite direction, momentarily disorienting me. The edge of a blade cut my shoulder and I yelped out in pain. Blindly I swung my sword around and caught my new opponent across the chest. My eyesight steadied and I looked at the man twice my size who stepped back as he looked down at the open wound on his chest. Dropping my sword I charged at him, taking the axe from my belt and wound up above my head before planting the blade in his face. The sickening mix of squelching and shattering bones rang out as more blood soaked my blond hair.

I let go of the handle of the axe and stepped backwards on shaky legs, breathing heavily. I wiped the blood and brain matter from my face with my sleeve and tried desperately to catch my breath.

Blood, sweat, mud and bodily fluids sprayed through the air. The filth had soaked my clothes as well as the new cut on my arm. Screams of dying men pierced my ears as I looked out over the mayhem of the battle. I could see we were already winning.

"Briet!" I looked to my right to see Florian who was being attacked by three Saxons. "Briet, move!"

I turned just in time to see a Saxon, sword raised high above his head a few paces from me. He brought his sword down with all of his strength, screaming as he did so. I brought my shield up to block his attack but the force of the man caused the shield to split in two. The bit of metal at the middle of the shield was the only thing that separated me from the death blow. The force caused me to fall to the ground where I immediately cursed myself for leaving my sword. I searched the ground frantically for it or any sword for that matter.

"Briet!" Florian roared again, this time sounding a little closer.

I didn't dare look. I couldn't take my eyes from the ground as I searched for something, anything. The warrior grunted while he brought his sword around for another strike. My fingers touched something hard and bound in leather. A sword! I grabbed it with both hands and managed to bring it around just in time to stop what would have been my death.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that Florian was trying to get to me but was running into opposing soldiers. I was in a horrible position, on the ground and now starting to panic as the Saxon tried to land his sword in me. I was crawling backwards in an attempt to put some space between us. My legs were kicking out as I used my heals to push me back. His blade cut the flesh of my thigh and the searing pain made me scream. Instinctively I went to grab at the pain but I quickly stopped myself. I couldn't drop my weapon or stop moving.

Looking up at the Saxon with wide eyes I thought this was the end until he slowly brought his sword up and over his head, holding it with both hands leaving his core exposed for attack. I gripped my weapon and just as I brought it up to kill him the thundering sound of hooves came from the right of the battlefield.

In one swift motion a blade appeared at the left of the man and cut him through at the hips from left to right. The mans eyes widened instantly while the blade cut him. His jaw went slack and I watched as the light left his eyes. Blood spilled from his mouth and dripped down into his beard. Slowly, the top half of his body pealed back and fell behind while his legs stayed upright for a moment more before they too fell to the ground. Blood and intestines spilled out and covered the ground in front of me. The sight of gore didn't bother me but the smell was enough to make me want to vomit.

*****

I looked up to see who had saved me and my worst nightmares were confirmed. Ivar pulled the reins back, his horse who was now drenched in blood and mud slid to a stop on the muddy ground and struggled to turn in my direction. Pulling his mask down from his face, Ivar looked down at me from his chariot, a mix of absolute furry and utter shock painted his face.

"I-Ivar... I," I stammered, out of breath. My heart was racing more from being found by Ivar than the fact that I almost was killed.

Florian jogged over towards us and put an arm around my shoulder, smiling from ear to ear. "You did good," he said between breaths, shaking me lightly.

"She was almost killed!" Ivar bellowed. He was glaring like mad at Florian and while our men were busy with the dispatching of the last few Saxons, I could tell Ivar was thinking about killing Florian.

"She had him," Florian squeezed my shoulder tightly and I winced from the pain of my wound. "She saw his ribs were unprotected, she was going for the kill."

"And I suppose you are the reason why she is here in the first place, hmm?" Ivar questioned him though his eyes were fixed on me. I shrunk under the weight of his stare, now wishing the Saxon had ended me.

Florian scoffed. "She's a warrior, Prince Ivar," he sneered at his title "she can do whatever the hell she wants. And she is a damn good shield maiden."

Ivar's nostrils flared and I saw his arm that held his axe twitch. I pushed Florian's hand from my shoulder and walked the few steps to Ivar's side. I slowly looked up at him with teary doe eyes. I could already feel my cheek and eye start to swell from the punch I took earlier. I know he wouldn't soon forget this exchange with Florian but seeing the terrified look on his face when he saw that I had almost been killed showed that beneath it all, he did have some type of feelings towards me.

Opening my mouth to speak, I struggled to find the words. I looked away from his piercing blue eyes and looked to the grass that was spattered in glossy red. Ivar's hand brushed strands of tangled blood soaked hair from my face before he brought my chin up so I was looking at him.

"Come here," he spoke softly and tugged my sore body up into his chariot. He positioned me so that I was standing at his side in the small space between his seat and the rim of the chariot. Ivar wrapped an arm around his waist before he commanded the horse towards Bjorn who was calling out his name.

"We have him!" Bjorn shouted over the field. "We have the bastard who killed Ragnar!"