Arrow after arrow hit the skulls of the deer. Axe after axe landing perfectly in the centre of the hanging wooden targets. Each deadly projectile, in her mind's eye, had been aimed at either Sigurd's or Margrethe's head. (Y/n) able to imagine the blood trickling down their faces, before they dropped to their knees, dead. Their bodies laying at her feet, before she turned and walked away; completely forgetting about the existence of either of them.

She hated to think that she was less in Sigurd's eyes, than a thrall was. Less than a slave that was only there to serve; to do all the things that free people did not want to do. But here she was, Margrethe bedding three of the sons of Ragnar, whereas she, a freewoman and shieldmaiden, couldn't even love one. (Y/n) having the most terrible feeling that she may have offended Freyja, and that was why the goddess was denying her love. That was why she had made the man she cared so much for, look to that slave, instead of her. (Y/n) picking up one of her daggers, and throwing it without looking, at one of the targets. The tip of the blade landing at the very centre of the wood.

"I feel sorry for anyone that may have to face you on the battlefield; if you can do that without even looking." A voice suddenly came. (Y/n) reaching for the nearest weapon, before she spun around. A large smile making its way onto her lips, as she saw who the visitor was. The weapon dropped to the floor, before she ran over to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

"Björn!" She exclaimed, as the older man hugged her tightly. (Y/n) forgetting about everything as he laughed at her antics.

There had always been something about Björn, for (Y/n). Even though he was not Aslaug's son, and she had not been able to spend as much time with him as the others, the two had always got on well, and he seemed to have an amazing way of making everything better. (Y/n) hoping that he had come to stay for a while; though if he hadn't, perhaps when he left again, he would agree to take her with him this time.

"Hello, little one." He replied, as he finally set her down on the ground. (Y/n) taking his arm and leading him over to where she had been sat.

"What are you doing out here all on your own? Where are my brothers.......?" Björn continued. His brows furrowing, as (Y/n)'s smile dropped.

It was strange to see such a thing from the younger woman. (Y/n) had grown up with his younger siblings. Björn having to admit that he was a little jealous of the relationship she and the others shared; that they had been gifted with this sister like being, when his own had been taken. But for some reason, she had come to love him, as much as the others, and he in turn had come to love her. Björn not blind to the devotion that she had to his family, so for her not to smile at the mention of his brothers...........

"I left them eating. I don't know where they are, and I don't care. That is why I am here on my own; I needed to get away from them." (Y/n) explained. A heavy sigh leaving her lips, before she looked up at him again.

"Are you here for a while? Tell me you are. You make everything better when you are here............."

"For a little while, yes. I have come to speak to the others. But for now, maybe you should come back to town with me, it's getting late." The eldest son of Ragnar said, before he got to his feet and held out his hand for her to take.

"I can take you back as I used to do, if you would like......." He added, a broad smile spreading across (Y/n)'s face, as she climbed up onto the tree stump and then jumped onto Björn's back.

"Come on then donkey. To Kattegat............."

                                                      >>---------------------------------<<

Sigurd had been walking........just walking since the earlier events; lost in his own thoughts, in what (Y/n) had said. He knew that he could not stay with his brothers, after her outburst; only able to imagine what Ivar would say. Only able to imagine the joy with which his younger brother would use her words, against him.

Sigurd had never seen (Y/n) like that before; never seen her that angry. And how she had come to know about his.........interaction with Margrethe, he didn't know, though why she should care........but it was obvious that she did. That that was why she had called him, pathetic, because he had had the same woman as Ubbe and Hvitserk. Yet she had not shouted at them; she had not called them pathetic. So why........then it hit him. It so obvious now, yet it could not be true. (Y/n), their friend, his friend, the one that all were sure was destined to be as great a shieldmaiden as Lagertha, cared for him. Cared for him more than she cared for his brothers. Cared for him enough to hate that he had known Margrethe, just as his brothers had. The notion that she.......that someone like (Y/n) might actually feel the same for him, as he did for her, stopped him in his tracks. That he, just like his brother Björn, might be able to claim a shieldmaiden, when none of the others could. Yet then he recalled the look of hate, the look of hurt and betrayal that he had seen as she had glared at him. Sigurd believing that he had lost his chance with her, before he had even realised that there was a chance. That nothing between them, would ever be the same again. Sigurd finally looking up, as he heard laughing. As he heard (Y/n) laughing. Quickly moving himself into the now looming shadows of one of the buildings, as he saw not only (Y/n) but Björn too. His oldest brother carrying the girl that he loved, on his back like he would do when they were younger. A sudden jealousy filling him, as he could only watch as the two passed by. Sigurd wondering if he would ever get the chance to make (Y/n) smile, like Björn could.