Ivar sat in silence in the great hall with all his brothers, finally recovered from his journey back from England. Once he had rested, he had been bombarded with questions about their sister, while (Y/n) was being cared for by Helga and her mother. It days now since she had collapsed on the boat; days since she had lost consciousness. And her still being in that state, only added to the heavy atmosphere; only made the knowledge that their father was now dead, worse. The wild weather that had swept across the land after the visit of the allfather, still battering Kattegat.

Ivar had told his brothers about everything their sister had told him. How Rollo had not just betrayed Ragnar; but had also condemned (Y/n) to years of abuse and torture. A teary-eyed Helga telling the men of the injuries that she and Lagertha had found. Of not only the lash marks that covered her back and buttocks; but also, the multitude of cuts and even stab marks that had been made into her flesh. Of the deep scares that had been created by metal that had gripped tightly to her throat and wrists. Björn making his way to try and comfort his mother, only for him to be pushed away. The shieldmaiden cursing Rollo, cursing the gods and Ragnar, for not protecting their daughter, that day. For not having searched for her. For not staying in Frankia, until he had found her. Lagertha storming from the hall, as she did her best to come to terms with what had happened to her beloved daughter. How they had even taken her eye. The once beautiful orb now as white as snow. A deep scar cutting through the flesh above and below the socket.

"Do you think that she will ever wake up?" Hvitserk finally asked, before drinking what was left in his cup.

"(Y/n) will wake up. You will see. The gods would not let her die, not now; not after she has survived this long. Not after father.........." Björn replied. Doing his best to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. He in just as much shock as the others, when Ivar had said that the unconscious woman with him, was their sister. The dark-haired prince shouting angrily when Björn had tried to remove her hood. Ivar having learnt just how important keeping her face covered was to her. He not wanting the crowd to gawp at her, as if she were some kind of disfigured monster.

For years Björn had been lost, losing (Y/n) had been like losing a part of himself. For years he had blamed himself for her death; for years he had been haunted by dreams of her dying, of her calling out to him as she had been surrounded by the enemy. Björn waking up screaming out her name, as in his dreams, he would turn from her and walk away. But not once had he ever thought that she could be alive. Not once did he ever think that she might be being held somewhere, least of all by their own uncle, and he hated himself for giving up hope. So now that she was back with him, he was not going to lose her again. He was not going to allow the allfather to have her as well as their father. He was going to watch over her and protect her. Björn banging his fist on the table, before throwing his cup across the room. Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar, looking at one another. Their oldest brother not having to say another word for them to know what he was thinking.

For so long they had mourned for her. For the woman that had given them the love that Aslaug wouldn't or couldn't. For the older sister who had been training them, who had promised to train Sigurd. For the one who had been there to support and encourage them. All of them looking up, when they heard a voice call out Ivar's name.

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

(Y/n) leant up against the wall for a moment. After years of being kept as a slave, she had lost much of what she once was. The lack of food, of any practice with sword and bow, meant that her form was much frailer and thinner than it had been all those years ago. The Franks only ever giving her enough food and water to keep her live. And even when she had escaped, things had not improved. (Y/n) not able to recall the last time that her belly had been full; the last time that she had woken in a comfortable bed or been as clean as she was now. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself back off the wall.

"Ivar!" She called out. It the obvious name to think of, given that she and he had been huddled together since they had left the shores of England. The days long and the nights even longer, as she had watched over him and done her best to steer the little boat back to a place that she had not seen in so long. (Y/n) stopping in her tracks, as she moved out into the hall proper, and her eye fell on the five men that sat there. Her hand quickly reaching up and covering her blind eye with the hood, as four of them got to her feet. The largest of them, slowly making his way around the table; standing there for a moment before he took a step towards her.

"(Y/n)..............." (Y/n) gasping as she heard the voice, as she finally recognised the face.

"Björn..........." She managed to reply, before raced into his waiting arms.