Athelstan looked up, as a beautiful pair of eyes looked deep into his; the tip of a sword touching his throat. The former monk had to admit that all this had happened in a blur. Now admittedly, Athelstan was not one to usually throw himself into such physical confrontations; he was a man that preferred to rely on his intelligence and survival skills, rather than the use of brute forces to get him out of such things. But as he and (Y/n) had begun to fight, it had appeared to him that he might have the upper hand; he was bigger than her and stronger, after all. But as the fight progressed, he had quickly come to appreciate that she was being gentle with him, and all the long hours of training with her brothers, with her father and with Lagertha, had in truth created quite the formidable fighter. Her technique with the blade, the power behind her strikes, and her ability to be prepared for any move that he might make next, made (Y/n), in Athelstan's opinion anyway, second to no one; and he had regretted thinking, even if for only that moment, that he might be able to best her. And as he lay on his back in the grass, his sword goodness only knew where; the glorious daughter of his friend Ragnar, sitting atop him; Athelstan would happily say that he didn't mind being beaten by her, at all.

"Not bad, for a monk. But you have still much to learn if you want to defeat me. So, do you surrender, Athelstan............?" The Northwoman enquired; her breath as ragged as his was, as she moved her face closer.

"To you, I will always be happy to surrender..............." The man beneath her replied softly. The look in her eyes softening at his words. His lips looking oh so tempting as he had spoken them.

So many nights she had dreamed of something like this; just her and Athelstan alone together. The world, her parents, her brothers seeming to fade away, as she enjoyed just being with him. As she savour the feel of his arms around her and the warmth of his flesh against hers; her back arching from the bed in pleasure, as he pushed himself inside her; as his firm thrusts brought them both closer and closer to that exquisite climax.................

Slowly she moved the tip of her sword away from Athelstan's throat. The blade dropping to her side, before her hands came to rest on either side of Saxon's head. He was beautifully, more beautiful than any man that she had ever seen. And he had an innocence about him; an innocence that she had never seen in any of her own people. A gentleness that set him apart from all the other men that she knew; and this........all this, made her love him. The only living daughter of Ragnar well aware that others may disapprove of her choice in men; but this was her life, and Athelstan was what she wanted. (Y/n) slowly leaning down and pressing her lips to those of the former monk. The kiss becoming deeper, more passionate, as the Saxon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

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

"Where are you going............?" Ubbe asked, as Hvitserk finished his second apple. Throwing the core off to the side as he had with the first, before making his way down the steps of the Great Hall.

"To find our sister............"

"Then I'll come to............" Ivar interrupted, before Björn could get to his feet. The son of Lagertha already having begun to worry if their angry sister was alright.

"No, you don't. You're the one that upset her in the first place, trying to act like you are father, or she is some kind of thrall; no, the last thing that she will want to see, is you. If anyone else was to come, it should be Ubbe or Björn; she can never be angry at us for too long............" Hvitserk explained, as he got to the bottom step. Ignoring his youngest brother's disgruntled grunt.

"I'll come............." Björn agreed. The first-born son understanding his sister well enough to know that Hvitserk was right, and that Ivar might just get slapped, or worse, if he was to be the one that found her. He and Hvitserk making their way out into Kattegat.

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

"Where do you think that she will be.........?" Hvitserk asked, as he and Björn wandered through the town.

"You know our sister better than most; so, where do you think she will have gone............" He continued, Hvitserk under no illusions that even though he knew (Y/n) loved all of them, and they loved her, Björn and Ivar had always had a special connection to the girl. That the oldest and youngest of Ragnars sons, had taken it upon themselves to be their sister's protectors.

"If I was (Y/n) and angry at Ivar, I would go and practice. I would pretend that that old stag skull was our brother's head.............." Björn replied. Hvitserk chuckling at the comment; but having to say that his brother was right, and that there was no better place to start than the clearing that they all spent so much time at.

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

Hvitserk and Björn quickly made their way through the trees; their ears having picked up the sound of clashing sword. Yet now it was all quiet, and both men couldn't help but worry. The pair fearing that someone might have come upon their little sister; that someone may have come to harm her. Yet as they got to the edge of the clearing, they spied (Y/n) straddling a downed man; her blade pointed at his throat. Björn feeling his usual pride in his sister when she would win a fight; yet as they continued to watch, (Y/n) removed her blade, and let the sword drop to her side. The oldest son of Ragnar not expecting to see what happened next. His instinct sending him forward as (Y/n) kissed the man, as he kissed her back. Björn not caring who the man was, just knowing that he was not good enough for his sister; and he would not allow this to continue............