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She avoided them all as if they were diseased, skirting around the camp on light toes. But it seemed her attempts at evasion were pointless, they seemed to single her out as easily as an owl could pick up its prey. But after spending a short while with Bjorn, working on her sword and bow and arrow, she'd quickly come to learn that the quietness wasn't too bad. There was something about it that settled her, despite the thought of fact that the man her father loathed was sitting only yards away on his throne.

Her grip on her quiver never eased as she walked around the horse and cart, Bjorn behind her, watching carefully as Lagertha settled atop of it, Athelstan beside her. The pair stood like guards next to the trailer- neither of them trusted the man she was to meet. Especially after seeing the horror on Merida's face, upon exiting the throne room only an hour before.

Bjorn nudged her side sharply, gaining her attention. Merida scowled but gave it to him all the same.

"You remember what I said?"

"How could I not? You repeated it so often that the words may as well be etched into my brain!" She said between laughs.

He shook his head. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Nothing will happen to you," he said, elbow knocking again to brush against her side, his other hand gripped upon the edge of his sword. The touch was comforting. It was pleasant, knowing he had her back- even if she was adamant that she would never come to need it.

"I know."

"That's why I think you should go with Lagertha," he said quickly.

"To farm?"

"Yes. To show you truly aren't a threat," he explained.

"I know you don't want me to fight, Bjorn. But Lagertha is right. I won't ever be a good shield maiden if I haven't had practice," she stopped, noticing the look on his face. "Stop looking at me like that."

His fair brows were raised, lips in a smirk, pale eyes piercing her way. Merida stared back, silently daring.

"Looking? I'm not looking- what do you mean? Looking?" He teased, jaw clenching as she squared up.

But then she laughed, an airy sound that trickled past his ears, easing his shoulders. She blinked, watching the change of expression like a hawk eyeing a mouse.

"If fighting is what you want to do, then I won't stop you." He smiled, lunging to the side to pick up her sheathed sword. "I fact, I will fight proudly by your side, sword in hand."

He held it out, silver glinting from where it peaked from beneath the leather scabbard. Taking it in hand, she stared at the beautiful work, feeling the lightness of the weapon. 

"I never did teach you to shoot," she muttered, twisting the sword in her hand.

She was shaken by Bjorn's voice: bold and sudden. "Let's make a bargain!" He said, taking her by the shoulders excitedly. "Live through this battle and I will do anything you want. Learn to shoot an arrow, give you a weeks worth of drink. Anything."

"I don't need to make a bargain to make myself fight hard enough," Merida smirked, slipping from his hold to point the sword toward his neck. "But I'll take it."

He stared, staying nothing.

"Anything?"

Bjorn nodded, whispering, "Anything."

The sound of a trickling river, meandering through the rocky scape only metres away was almost enough to make Merida want to drift off. The damp, mossy ground she lay on was as soft as any bed, the glimpses of blue sky above a canopy of emerald leaves, prettier than any ceiling she'd gazed up at on any night.

Differences, it seemed, was all that she could usually point out. But here it was similarities that were so glaringly obvious as Merida closed her eyes, a cool wind setting upon her flushed cheeks. So similar to the forests of Dunbroch, were the woods that bordered the river they were set to sail upon. Had this been what it felt like the day her father had set upon the foreign invaded that fateful day? She smiled at the thought. How proud he would be to see her now! Though she hoped not to lose a leg.

"Ah! That I could have her. I'd marry her tomorrow. And we'd have lots of children and be true to each other." Torstein called out in a list filled whine, head leaning sloppily against the log he lay against.

Merida sighed, pulling herself up from the grass and toward the shade of the tree by their group, leaning the opposite side to Bjorn. Under protection of a woollen sheet cast over the branches of some trees, Princess Kwenthrith tumbled about upon her feet, dancing and flowing with her long, slender arms.

Floki chuckled. "A creaking bow, a burning flame."

"Tied on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake," Rollo continued.

"The sons of a king, an ailing calf, a witches flattery."

"No man should be such a fool as to trust these things."

"No man should trust the word of a woman," Floki said, smiling as he spun the knife her was using to carve against his finger. "The hearts of women were turning on a whirling wheel."

"To love a fickle woman is like setting over ice with a two year old colt. Or sailing a ship without a rudder," Rollo recited.

Beside her, Bjorn exhaled, turning momentarily to glance for her reaction. Merida rose her brow in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Yet no woman would be such a fool to trust in the promises or hollow words of men. Nor would she be plain enough to let a man know her so," she hissed, chuckling bitterly, before turning to Torstein. "That woman wouldn't step within five feet of you that way."

The man beamed, leaning forward so his face was dangerously close to hers.

"Ah jealousy! I knew you felt the same!" He cackled.

"All I feel is repulsed by your smell. Do you ever bath?" Merida exclaimed.

Bjorn laughed, nudging the man back to his bottom with his foot, before turning to his uncle.

"I loved someone in that way once. I sat among the reeds, waiting and waiting for my love. I prized that woman as much as my own life," he said, glancing away from the Princess that danced among the soldiers. "Lot of good it did me."

"And what did you get from sitting in the reeds, but a wet arse?" Ragnar called from where he lay.

"I would say, let no man mock another over what touched many men," Floki answered, going back to carving with his knife. "Time and again the wise are fettered by beauty. They ache with love longing. Lucky are the fools like you, Torstein, who remain unmoved and free!"

As the Princess finished her dance, they were all broken from thought and chatter by the pounding of hooves from atop the hill, increasing by the second. Ragnar was on his feet in hurry, Bjorn following close behind him. They met with Kwenthrith half way, Merida tugging her bow and arrow along with her.

"He says that the armies of my younger brother and uncle are already assembled up the river." She breathed, staring at Ragnar in excitement. "They wait for us."

The joined army sailed up the river with unnatural speed, the great oars making not a touch of sound as they stroked through water like massive, wooden limbs. There were so many of them: an ominous sight upon the river.

Merida sat against the very edge of the boat, the opposite end to Ragnar and the Princess, but beside Torstein, Rollo and Floki, Bjorn leaning against the post in front. They were quiet, the sound of breathless pants from the rowers filling in any need for noise.

But then the first arrow landed.

A splash gained their attention from the halt across.

Arrows rained down upon the boats with great numbers, zipping through the air and finding their marks. Shields were piled up, followed by an increasing number of splashed and shouts as men toppled over board.

Both Merida and Bjorn could see the arrow flying straight toward her in the seconds before it found its spot. Two shields reached the air in between, the arrow scuffing against the side of both and instead planting weakly into the wood beside her thigh.

"Somethings just aren't in our hands." She said, keeping her shield held firmly over their heads.

The arrows shortly stopped and the shields were lowered hesitantly, the sound of arrows clattering to the floor as they were ripped from the wood. With slowing speed, the boats were nearing their destination, the trees cutting into a clearing, though were filled with stumpy figures still. The opposing army. They were gathered at either ends of the river, both in large numbers, banners hanging proudly from behind.

"That is a considerable force father." Bjorn said, stepping to his side with arms folded.

"If you want to change your mind, brother, now is the time!"

Ragnar was silent for a moment as he edged to the top of the boat, glancing out to the edges of the river.

"They must be stupid." Merida whispered as she eyed the separate army, standing so arrogantly with their many soldiers.

"What do you mean?" Bjorn asked, stepping his shoulder in front.

"I mean your father is not. And neither are you," she said, placing a hand encouragingly on his cheek. 

For a moment, Bjorn was still, but then his lips creeped into a smile, into a show of understanding.

"The forces on the right back are much smaller than those on the left. And as far as I can see there is no bridge. There is no way the two armies can easily rejoin," Ragnar instructed. "We attack your uncle."

The Princess was beaming, a hint of malice on her face.

"Now stay out of our way," he said. "Sound the horn!"

The sound of the horn ripped through the cool air as Rollo stepped up to the task. Merida gripped her sword, feeling the light weight of the quiver on her back. The sound of a long, threatening note continued across the river. The first sound of war met her ears.

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