She sat in the damp Frankish dungeon; manacled and collared like a dog. It might sound strange; but this had been the plan. Admittedly Ragnar had not liked it, yet with looming defeat, he had given in to her. She had been left behind to strike right at the heart of the enemy. To do what only Ragnar's Wolf could, to his perfidious brother. (Y/n) telling him that even if it cost her own life, she would bring down this traitor to her king and their gods. And if it was her time, she would wait for him in Valhalla.

(Y/n) owed Ragnar everything. She was the child of no one and nothing. A black-eyed girl, that seemed to have been spat out onto Midgard, from the realm of Hel; yet instead of destroying her, instead of leaving her for the beasts in the forests, he had kept her. He had secreted her away in one of the unused hunting cabins, with an old woman that had taken care of anything that she might need until he could come back to her.

The Northman had always told her that he had seen something in her. That the gods had spoken to him; Ragnar taking it upon himself to train her in the art of war. The young girl quickly proving to be a natural with weapons, and even her fists. But it was not until one evening that he had trudged through the snow to get to the cabin, that he had seen what his found child was truly capable of. The king standing there, a flaming torch high above his head, staring in disbelief at the carnage.

It was obvious that the pack of wolves had come looking for food. That they had smelt the child and the old woman. And given the chewed up body of the pale haired female, it was also obvious that she had foolishly gone out into the snow believing that she could somehow chase away the snarling beasts. But the wolves had not had it all their own way, that night; for they had come across a predator that they had not bargained on. Ragnar racing over to her when he had finally spotted her in the dim light of the torch. The child that he had kept, surrounded by the bodies of an entire wolf pack. She was bloodied, shaken, yes; but she had just stood there and smiled up at him, as he had placed a hand on her shoulder and slowly taken the sword from her hand. It was then he knew that what the gods had told him was true; that she had been made for death. Born for war. That no matter how dangerous his youngest son had already proved himself to be; (Y/n) was something more. The king knowing that she would never have a normal life. That she would only be alive while in the midst of the destruction of others; and he had been right. From that moment, from the moment that he had taken her from that gruesome scene and brought her back to Kattegat, everyday life had felt like it had weighed her down, peace, a dirty word. It only when Ragnar had taken the one that he now called his wolf on a raid, that she learnt what true freedom, true happiness was. (Y/n) quickly becoming one of Ragnar's most trusted warriors. And that was how she had first met the now Duke of Normandy. Her king having sent her to fight with his brother, when he had caught sight of all the men surrounding him.

She had seen how Rollo had looked at her after the battle, as the corpses piled up around her, and their blood had soaked her skin and hair. She had known little of the love of men, other than the fatherly affections of her king; but even she knew what he wanted. Even she knew what that look in his eyes had meant; and she had to admit that a little part of her wanted it too. He was tall, handsome, a true warrior; and even though she had pledged her life to Ragnar, Rollo had sparked something within her. But then..........then he had betrayed them. He had betrayed their people, their gods........his brother; and (Y/n) hated him for it. But as the Vikings and the Frankish forces had clashed, she had met his eyes once more; seeing the old look that he had always had, when she had caught him staring. A plan forming in the wolf's mind. A plan that would destroy the traitor without even having to kill him. So, that was why she was here, in that hole that smelt like piss and shit. Her head not moving, as she heard the door to the cell being opened. As she heard someone make their way into the cell, before the door was closed behind her visitor.

"Wolf.........(Y/n)........." A voice came, sounding much weaker than she supposed he had intended it to. A small smile creeping across her lips, as she answered.

"Traitor................"

"(Y/n)........look at me............." His voice firmer this time. More demanding. Yet it only made her laugh.

"I have no desire to see the man that would betray everything and everyone he had known........." (Y/n) retorted angrily. Her head suddenly jerking upwards, as Rollo placed his hand around her throat and squeezed. Her black eyes peering deep into his soul.

Despite all the dirt, despite all the dried blood, she was still beautiful. She was still the same woman that had saved him. She was still Hel in human form, and he still wanted her. The desire for her burning like an unquenchable fire in his belly. He wanted to fuck her; he wanted to fulfill all the desires that he had had about her since their first meeting. He wanted her quivering beneath him, begging him; screaming out his name as he showed her how much he wanted her to be his. Yet, given the murderous glint in her eyes, and the snarl on her lips, it was obvious that despite abandoning her, she was still Ragnar's wolf; and he would not take her, until she was his wolf. Rollo slowly releasing his grip on her throat and moving his hand to gently rest on her cheek.

"You are coming with me.................."