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Merida stepped out upon the wooden dock, weaving between the people who pulled ropes from the ships that were already bobbing on the water, filled with supplies for the coming weeks. There was no briskness to the air, or at least not as there had been, and the sun, an icy tinted yellow shone upon open waters, free of a frozen layer. Rollo stood by one of the first boats, hanging onto the side as Floki hopped around him as light as a bird's feather.

She had hardly spoken to Ragnar's brother- there was something off about him. But Merida was just happy to be leaving, to be setting sail across the sea once again. Though she wasn't as happy as Floki, it seemed, as he was almost dancing across the boats in the water, meeting Bjorn at the other side. Helga had spoken to her the previous day, telling her how happy he was to be with a family, but also how angry it made him. Merida understood, she loved her family but the whole nature of it made her feel trapped.

Tall blonde hair caught her eye among the men that sorted out the boats. Merida hurried her way over, meeting Lagertha with a smile.

"Lagertha."

The woman smiled, meeting her broadly with hands on her shoulders.

"Merida," Lagertha greeted. "I did not think you would be coming with us."

She felt a hand at the base of her neck. "No one could stop her."

They walked together toward the ship they would be boarding, the first one that would leave the beach.

"I did not come to Kattegat just to stay in one place as I would do in Dunbroch. I came to explore," she said, stepping over the gap and next to where Floki pulled the sail.

"Wessex? It's on the same land as your kingdom, is it not?" Lagertha asked.

Merida nodded. "South of Dunbroch. But we do not trade or converse between Kingdoms."

Lagertha looked as if she would speak again, but Merida shook her head, following as Bjorn lead her to the bottom of the boat. "I want to put all of our training to use, Lagertha."

"As I said, I could not stop her, even if I wanted to," Bjorn laughed, watching as Merida pulled the bow from her back.

"And would you want to?" His mother asked.

Bjorn shook his head, looking away with a chuckle. "Never in a million years."

"I am glad. You are a good shield maiden, Merida" Lagertha said, placing a hand to her shoulder. "I would be honoured to fight alongside you."

"As would I," Bjorn said.

Merida turned to look to where he was standing, finding him closer than she expected. He was smiling, hiding a smirk behind amused eyes. There was flint behind his gaze too- something deep and unlike she had ever seen before. It was a look behind his eyes that she didn't understand. She smiled in return, looking away, not able to return his stare.

"Let's sail," he said, ducking his head and moving away.

The journey was far more difficult than the one that had taken her to Kattegat in the first place. Sweeping and ferocious, were the waves that crashed down upon their boats, after only a day of sailing through the oceans west. Even the sun never peered down for too long, taking ominous glances from behind thick, charcoal clouds that hid it well.

Merida didn't believe in fate- she had made that obvious enough- but there was something about the timing of the thrashing weather that sent shivers up and down her arms. Perhaps it was a sign. A sign that going to Kattegat was the right choice, and leaving was the wrong one. But from who that sign was from, she didn't know and didn't wish to guess.

There was something about the Northmen's reckless relationship with their Gods that made her uneasy too, as if there was something festering behind the horizon each time the moon lifted from its cold shelter. The belief of the Christians, south of the Kingdom of Dunbroch, never had the same effect.At home it would have all been nonsense, and though the concept of alien entities being somewhere beyond lay forever in the back of her mind, Merida could still feel the presence of her home beliefs, within the splintered wood that carried her to her homeland, and in the sparkles of the waves just across the sea.

Of all of them, it was Floki who would have made a preacher. He left everything: their journey's conclusion, the weather that tormented them and his hateful nature toward Athelstan, to the Gods. On the roughest of hours, she hoped he would bring them some good fortune, at least.

The first time that Bjorn had said more than a word of greeting to her, was when their feet were finally planted firmly on solid land. Even then, she had sought him out first. For the full week that was spent on water, he had spent most hours keeping to himself, brooding by the edge, face always solemn. Merida had a clue about what had gotten him in his mood to begin with.

"Where do we go from here?" Merida asked as she helped him haul a rope to where ever they needed it.

Bjorn didn't bother glancing to her as he answered. "To a meeting, with King Ecbert."

She nodded, expecting nothing more from him. There was enough in her mind, dealing with the fact that she was in Wessex- a kingdom that would see her slaughtered and delivered to her father's door before she ever set foot near their King.

"My father wants you there."

Her head snapped toward him, arms loosening around the rope. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You will have to ask him."

Then she dropped the rope all together. It rugged toward the floor, nudging the sword, gifted to her from Ragnar, at her waist on the way down.

"If you didn't want me here, Bjorn, you could have said," she spat, glaring at him straight.

He sighed, dropping the rope too. He jaw was clenched, eyebrows slanted and angry, shadowing his bright yet pale eyes.

"That wouldn't have made much of a difference, would it?"

She scoffed, almost adding a laugh at the end. "Oh, it would have. I wouldn't have wasted my time trying to get a word out of you," she shouted, stepping closer until her eyes were level to his chin. "Why don't you want me here? Because I am not one of you? Because my home rests on the same land as where we will fight?"

He scoffed, waving his arms incredulously. "None of that!"

"Then what is it?"

He sighed. "You want to hear it?" Merida nodded sharply. "I don't want to have to look out for you."

"I can hold my own."

Merida's chin shot up proudly. Perhaps it was arrogance that made her nose twitch and rise- but she didn't care. She was as good a swordsman as almost anyone around them, and an even better archer too. The weapons slung across her body felt heavy suddenly, as if they were all the more prominent.

"My people have held against the likes of King Ecbert for longer than you could possibly know," she hissed, looking away suddenly as his eyes darted to hers.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Something is wrong," Bjorn insisted, reaching to place a hand in her wrist. His touch was sharp, and she ripped away staggering back with a glare.

"Why do you care if I'm such a burden?"

"I never said that."

"But you did!" She screamed in frustration, lowering her voice again as she noticed the looks being sent their way. "I'm here because I can fight. You don't get to dictate whether I do."

"I know."

Merida softened as she saw he would say no more. Only the ripple of the waves by their feet filled the silence between them.

"I don't understand why you worry."

Bjorn shook his head. "Something is wrong."

"Fine, avoid my question," Merida said, smiling at his stubbornness that she had become accustomed to. "King Ecbert. He has... troubled history with my father and his kingdom. He'll recognise me the moment I'm within his attention."

"Stay by my side and you'll be fine."

Bjorn nodded awkwardly, going back to moving the rope with out looking at her at all. She sighed.

"I can protect myself."

He paused, eye flickering toward her. And for a moment, Merida held her breath, her strength faltering all together. Bjorn shook his head.

"I know you can, you've made that clear already." Merida smiles at his fond laugh. "But that is besides the point. Sometimes you shouldn't have to."

"But why do you worry so?"

"Am I not allowed to?"

Merida sighed again- it seemed like the only sound she could make at that moment- and moved toward him, hands sliding down his fingers, taking the space on the rope in front of his place. The corners of his lips tugged slightly, and they pulled the rope together again.

"I suppose you are."

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Not sure how big to make chapters. This one is about 1500. Any suggestions for word length?